Chapter 588

Chapter 587:

“No,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “This is the best roast beef I have ever tasted p>

He continued eating the burnt, tough meat with complete enthusiasm, as though he were seated at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.

The moment was broadcast live to millions.

“He ate the burnt meat p>

𝖳𝘩𝗲 𝖻𝘦𝘀𝘁 r𝖾𝘃𝗂𝘦𝘸𝘀 on

“What kind of spell did she cast on him p>

“The way he looks at her… I’m melting p>

In a single gesture, Gaston had rewritten his public image entirely. The cold capitalist label dissolved. In its place stood something the internet had not expected — a deeply devoted, fiercely loving husband.

Jocelyn couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious lie. She picked up her own fork and cut a small piece of the meat. Just as she bit down, a sharp, blinding pain shot through her jaw.

She gasped and dropped her fork, pressing her hand hard against her cheek, her eyes squeezing shut.

Gaston leaned forward instantly. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Jocelyn’s face contorted. “My tooth,” she whimpered, pressing her palm tighter against her jaw. “It’s my wisdom tooth. It’s killing me p>

The pregnancy hormones had inflamed her gums, and the dormant wisdom tooth had chosen this precise moment to announce itself.

Gaston set down his silverware. The ease drained from his expression, replaced in a heartbeat by a deadly seriousness. The worry in his dark eyes was unmistakable and unguarded.

The live chat erupted again, flooding with concern and a wave of unsolicited amateur dental advice.

In the control room, Penelope leaned forward, her eyes sharpening. A new conflict had just dropped directly into her lap.

The pain in Jocelyn’s jaw intensified, throbbing in perfect time with her heartbeat. A fine sheen of cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

Gaston watched her suffer, his own jaw tightening. His eyes held a mixture of agonizing helplessness and barely restrained frustration at his absolute inability to fix it — a feeling entirely foreign to a man accustomed to fixing everything.

The pain in Jocelyn’s jaw escalated from a dull throb to a sharp, stabbing agony. She couldn’t speak. She curled up on the sofa, pressing her face into Gaston’s chest, letting out soft, helpless whimpers.

Gaston grabbed his phone and dialed the private physician. The call was brief and frustrating.

“No painkillers?” he said, his voice tight with suppressed fury. “I don’t care about the standard protocol. Find a way p>

He listened for a moment, then let out a short, bitter laugh. “Physical cooling? That is your best advice p>

He ended the call and dropped the phone onto the cushion. His face was like thunder. He despised this feeling — this suffocating, absolute helplessness. All his billions, all his power, were entirely useless against a single nerve ending in his wife’s jaw.

His executive assistant sent an urgent message: the transatlantic video conference with the European board regarding the ten-billion-euro bond issuance was set to begin in five minutes.

Gaston looked at the notification. Then he looked down at Jocelyn trembling in his arms, tears of pain leaking silently from the corners of her eyes.