The office of Elbert Collins occupied the entire top floor of the Collins Tower. It was a space designed to intimidate, filled with dark mahogany, leather, and the scent of aged scotch.
Gaston walked in, bypassing the three secretaries who jumped to their feet. He threw the marriage certificate onto his father's massive desk.
Elbert Collins, a man who looked like a lion in the twilight of its life-scarred, grey, but still dangerous-picked up the paper. He adjusted his spectacles.
"Jocelyn Wolfe?" Elbert read the name. He looked up, his eyes narrowing. "The girl from the Douglas mess? The one in the papers this morning?"
"She's the one," Gaston confirmed. He walked to the crystal decanter and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer one to his father.
"She thinks I'm Babe Vincent," Gaston added, taking a sip. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Elbert laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound, like sandpaper on wood. "You married her under a pseudonym? Is that legal?"
"I used my legal name," Gaston said. "Gaston Collins. She just... didn't read the fine print. She thinks 'Collins' is a common name. She doesn't realize which Collins."
"Douglas is going to lose his mind," Elbert mused, placing the certificate down. "Good. We need his market share. If he's distracted by a personal scandal, it makes the acquisition easier."
"Protect her," Gaston ordered. His voice dropped, losing its amusement. "No leaks about my identity until I say so. I want the legal team ready to bury anyone who bothers her."
Elbert nodded slowly. He looked at his son with a newfound respect. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Collins."
Across the city, Jocelyn was dragging her life out of the penthouse.
Mrs. Higgins, the housekeeper, entered the hallway just as Jocelyn was hauling the second suitcase toward the door.
"Ms. Wolfe?" Mrs. Higgins asked, her hands clutching a duster.
Jocelyn turned. "I'm leaving, Mrs. Higgins. For good."
The older woman's face softened. She looked relieved. "He doesn't deserve you, dear. I've been saying it to my husband for years."
"If he asks," Jocelyn said, pausing. "Tell him... actually, tell him nothing."
"My lips are sealed," Mrs. Higgins promised.
Jocelyn stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the view of the apartment where she had wasted two years of her life.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Bank Alert: Credit Line Activated. Sponsored by Collins Capital Partners. Balance Available: $12,000,000.
Jocelyn stared at the number. She saw the word 'Collins' but dismissed it as the name of a generic financial firm her mother's lawyers used. The amount was what mattered. A wave of relief washed over her, so intense her knees almost buckled. She had resources now. She wasn't just a discarded girlfriend; she was a woman with capital.
She called a moving service to pick up the rest of her boxes and take them to storage.
Downstairs, she hailed a cab.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
Jocelyn hesitated. The Hamptons house wouldn't be ready until tomorrow. The staff needed to open it up. She couldn't go there tonight.
"The Plaza Hotel," Jocelyn said. "Fifth Avenue."
She had money now. She could afford a suite.
As the yellow cab pulled away from the curb, merging into the traffic, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to the entrance of the building.
The door opened, and two large men in suits stepped out. Kieran's security detail. They were returning early to sweep the apartment before his arrival.
They missed her by thirty seconds.
Jocelyn watched the building recede through the rear window. She was homeless, technically. But for the first time, she felt free.
