Chapter 72
Chapter 72:
The dining table was long — a stretch of polished mahogany that seemed to go on for miles. Jocelyn was seated at the far end, isolated. The Schneiders sat clustered at the head, a united front of malice.
Robert cut his steak aggressively, the knife screeching against the fine china.
“Let’s cut the crap,” he said, not looking up.
“Fine,” Jocelyn said. “What do you want p>
𝗧𝘳еո𝖽𝘪𝗻𝗴 𝗇оv𝘦𝘭ѕ 𝗼𝘯 ѕ.𝖼𝗼𝘮
“The Collins contract,” Robert said. “We want a piece of the supply chain. Schneider Logistics handles the transport for the hotel renovation. Exclusive rights p>
Jocelyn put down her fork. “That’s between the Wolfe Hotel and Collins Group. I can’t interfere with vendor selection. Besides, your rates are twenty percent above market p>
Elouise slammed her glass down. Gin sloshed onto the tablecloth. “Ungrateful brat! We raised you! We put clothes on your back p>
“You raised me to be a servant for Aspen,” Jocelyn corrected calmly. “And you spent my father’s money to do it p>
Aspen laughed, a shrill, brittle sound. “And now you’re a servant for a gay husband. Does he even touch you, Jocelyn? Or does he just use you to hold his purse p>
“At least my husband doesn’t need to be drugged to spend time with me,” Jocelyn shot back.
Aspen’s face went red. She stood up. “You bitch p>
“Sit down, Aspen,” Robert barked. He looked at Jocelyn with cold, dead eyes. “Sign over ten percent of your hotel shares to Cory. Tonight p>
“Or what?” Jocelyn challenged.
“Or we stop paying for your grandmother’s facility,” Robert said. “I’ll make the call right now p>
Jocelyn stood up. Her legs were shaking, but she locked her knees. “Go ahead. But before you do, know that I’ve already spoken to Gaston’s legal team about the power of attorney. They’re filing an emergency petition to have it revoked on grounds of financial coercion. By morning, you won’t have any leverage left at all p>
It was a desperate bluff — a prayer sent into the void. She hadn’t spoken to them yet, but it was the only card she had to play. A sliver of ice-cold fear shot through her: the fear that they would call her on it and she would have nothing left.
Silence descended on the room. Heavy and suffocating.
Robert’s face turned a mottled purple. He was furious. His leverage was crumbling.
“You lying bitch,” Cory said, standing up and blocking the exit to the hallway. He was big, broad-shouldered, and smelled of stale beer.
“Sit down, Cory,” Robert said, though there was no authority in his voice. He was calculating.
“I’m leaving.” Jocelyn grabbed her purse.
“Not yet,” Elouise said, her voice turning syrupy sweet — a dangerous pivot. “We haven’t had the wine. A toast. To… family p>
“I’m not drinking with you,” Jocelyn said.
“Fine,” Robert said. “But you can fetch the 1982 Petrus from the cellar. It was your father’s favorite. If you want to leave without a scene, go get it. We drink a toast to him, and you go p>
Jocelyn looked at them. It was a petty power play — making her serve them. But if it got her out of here faster.
“Fine,” she said. “One bottle. Then I’m gone p>