Chapter 584

Chapter 583:

“He laughed,” Carmen whispered, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “He said your political ideals were fragile. That you were a boy playing a man’s game. He said I was a liability that would drag you down p>

The words hit Justin like a blow to the chest. The sheer arrogance of it, the mockery of everything he had built, the casual cruelty with which Sterling had destroyed the woman he loved — it ignited something dark and toxic deep in his gut.

He turned his head sharply, his eyes burning with an agonizing, bottomless regret.

“I should have killed him,” Justin said, the sound vibrating low in his throat. “I should have put him in the ground seven years ago p>

Carmen saw the madness flickering at the edges of his eyes. She saw the cliff he was moving toward. Without thinking, she reached out.

Her cool, slender fingers settled gently over his clenched fist.

𝖠𝗰𝘵𝘪𝗏𝘦 𝗰о𝗺𝗆𝘶nі𝘁y 𝘰n ѕ.co𝘮

The touch shocked his system like ice water, pulling him back from the edge. The burning fury in his eyes flickered and slowly died down.

“We know the truth now, Justin,” Carmen said softly, her gaze steady. “That is what matters. We know what he did. That is the most important thing p>

Justin stared at her. The anger drained away, leaving behind a deep, resonant sorrow. He turned his hand over, his fingers wrapping around hers and holding on with a quiet, desperate strength — a drowning man who could finally see the shore. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a reverent, lingering kiss to her knuckles, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I am never letting you go again, Carmen,” he said, his voice thick. “Never p>

Carmen didn’t pull her hand away. She let him hold it. She let him kiss it. The rigid, suffocating tension that had lived between them for weeks began at last to soften, dissolving into a quiet, shared understanding.

The SUV turned onto a quiet, tree-lined street and stopped in front of the Washington townhouse. Justin didn’t wait for Lee. He stepped out of the car and walked around to her door, opening it himself and offering his hand — treating her like something fragile and irreplaceable.

Miles away, the atmosphere in New York could not have been more different.

Gaston’s sprawling penthouse was a hive of controlled activity. A dozen crew members in black t-shirts emblazoned with the streaming platform’s logo moved swiftly through the rooms, carrying equipment and speaking in clipped, efficient voices.

Penelope stood in the center of the living room like a general commanding an army. She aimed a laser pointer at a massive bookshelf.

“Right there,” she told the cameraman. “The spine of that thick art book. I want a pinhole lens. It needs to capture the entire sofa area without catching the window glare p>

Jocelyn stood near the kitchen island in a comfortable, loose-fitting maternity cashmere set, shifting her weight from foot to foot as her home was methodically transformed into a television set.

Gaston stood directly behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. His dark eyes tracked every movement the crew made, radiating a fierce, territorial energy.