Chapter 607
Chapter 606:
The doctor and the lawyer exchanged a look of pure, undisguised envy. Chelsea gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her husband had never once touched her with such tenderness.
Every loving gesture from Gaston was another nail in the coffin of her pride.
When filming wrapped, Gaston helped Jocelyn with her coat and kept his arm possessively around her waist as he guided her toward the door. He offered the other women a polite, briefly dismissive nod. But when his gaze passed over Chelsea, his eyes went to ice — a look of such cold, predatory warning that a genuine shiver of fear moved down her spine.
He knew. Somehow, he already knew exactly what she had said.
The fear lasted only a second before it was swallowed by a fresh, burning wave of obsessive jealousy. It hardened something in her. She would not be intimidated. She would not back down.
She would destroy them.
The celebrity whirlwind faded, and for a few days, life returned to something resembling normalcy. Jocelyn was in her office at the Wolfe Hotel, the city’s panoramic skyline spread out before her, reviewing the latest financial reports.
The internal line buzzed. It was Julian Croft.
His voice was calm and professional. He was calling to let her know he had accepted a promotion — a transfer to the London office to head the European division. He was leaving in a week.
“That’s wonderful news, Julian,” Jocelyn said, and she meant it entirely. It was the best possible outcome for him. A new city, a new beginning, far from the ghosts of New York.
𝗔d𝗱i𝖼𝗍𝗶𝘃𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝘦ls 𝗼n
A brief pause settled over the line. “Jocelyn,” he said, his voice softer now. “I wish you and Mr. Collins all the happiness in the world p>
It was his final goodbye.
“You too, Julian,” she replied gently. “You deserve it p>
She hung up. A sense of quiet closure settled over her like a deep, unhurried breath. A chapter had ended — officially, and peacefully.
Across town, in the quiet study of the Washington townhouse, a different kind of ending was being planned.
The media frenzy surrounding Conrad Sterling’s arrest had begun to die down, but Justin and Carmen both understood it was only a temporary lull. The story of their reunion — of Aaden’s true parentage — was a ticking time bomb.
“We can’t let the tabloids break it first,” Justin said, pacing in front of the fireplace. “They’ll twist it into something ugly. We have to control the narrative p>
Carmen sat on the leather sofa, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, her gaze steady. The fragile uncertainty that had once defined her was gone, replaced by a quiet, formidable composure. “I agree. But this isn’t just a political statement. This is about our son p>
She set her mug down. “Before we talk to the world, we need to talk to Aaden. Properly — not hinting at it, not dancing around it. We need to tell him the whole story in a way he can understand. He needs to hear it from us, so he feels safe before the noise starts p>