Chapter 259

"Mr. Jones." A crisp, unruffled voice echoed across the empty parking garage.

Claude emerged from a sliver of darkness near the elevator,his footsteps deliberate, his silhouette slicing through the haze.He'd slipped away from Hannah's study moments ago, feigning a quick errand to justify his sudden absence upstairs. Just as he'd guessed, it was Vincent who had been hidden in Hannah's room.

The realization twisted Claude's features, a shadow passing over his eyes as everything clicked into place.

Vincent didn't bother to face Claude. He just drew himself up a little straighter, shoulders squared in silent defiance.

Claude stopped just out of arm's reach, his voice cool and almost bored. "If you're feelingill, you should be resting somewhere quietly. Disturbing others is not right."

He didn't say Hannah's name, deliberately reducing her to a faceless "other"-each word severing any remaining tie between Vincent and her.

Vincent pivoted to face Claude, eyes burning with challenge and the promise of a fight.

Claude didn't flinch. He looked back with effortless confidence,a hint of laziness in his posture but none in his authority.′′Anna has a soft spot for people. That's the only reason she let you stay-a moment of pity, nothing more."

His tone was smooth, but the edges were sharp and precise."She's always been sentimental, too quick to show mercy to

"She's always been sentimental, too quick to show mercy to anyone from her past." He took a step closer, dropping his voice. "But don't mistake her kindness for something deeper.Compassion isn't the same thing as care."

He let that hang in the air, his gaze unwavering. "So, Mr. Jones,I'd appreciate it if you didn't disrupt our lives again. That's what's expected of an ex-husband."

Vincent's gaze sharpened, cold and predatory, a steely glint surfacing in his eyes. His words came out rough but unwavering,each syllable laced with disdain. "So tell me, Claude Hobbes-who the hell do you think you are?"

A crooked, calculated smirk played at the corner of his mouth -not warmth, but the kind of arrogance bred from years of dominance. He refused to cede a single inch, his tone clipped and distant. "Save your little speeches for the day you actually become Hannah's spouse. Until then, don't presume so much."

With a brief pause, he added, "So until that day comes, you're not in a position to say anything."

His words were cutting, cold contempt threading every syllable.

Without another look at Claude, Vincent pivoted away,his jaw locked tight. He yanked open the car door with a brittle show of control, slid inside, and slammed it behind him.

The engine growled to life, and the sleek black sedan peeled away, vanishing around the bend without a single backward glance.

Claude remained rooted to the spot. His fingers curled involuntarily into fists, that polished charm dissolving in an instant-replaced by a fierce,tightly coiled anger.

...

In the top-floor CEO office, Derek stood stiffly in front of the vast executive desk, fingers tightening around the folder in his

vast executive desk, fingers tightening around the folder in his hands. He drew a shaky breath and started, voice hesitant."Mr.Jones, there's something I should report. You've had so much on your plate lately that I haven't found the right time to bring it up..."

A nervous pause lingered. "Some time ago, Ms. Stanton went into your study," he said, his words measured and wary.

Vincent's brow creased, annoyance flickering in his gaze. "Get to the point."

Derek's eyes fluttered shut for a split second, as if bracing himself, before he rushed out the truth. "She went in late at night, under the impression you were the one sleeping there."

His confession hung heavily in the room, silence stretching.

Vincent turned his head, movements slow and deliberate, his features carved from stone.

Derek hurried on, tension clear in his voice. "She's been showing up at the company, insisting on seeing you. I've been dodging her, telling her you're unavailable."

Vincent didn't bother to answer instantly. A moment later, his deep, flat voice sliced through the hush. "Revoke Erica's access. Effective immediately. She doesn't set foot in this building again."

His order left no room for argument.

Derek straightened, answering briskly, "Understood!"

Derek hesitated before adding, "Also, your grandmother's been trying to call. She says it's urgent."

Vincent exhaled. What else could her grandmother want, if not to bring up Erica again? He slumped deeper into his chair,exhaustion dulling his voice."Got it."

Derek slipped out, letting the heavy door sigh shut behind him.

The office fell into that uncanny quiet once more, oppressive and absolute.

Vincent's eyes drifted back to his desk. The tablet before him glowed cold and blue, bathing his face in icy light.

He wasn't scrolling through emails-Fontaine Galleria's dossier filled the screen, details glaring back at him.

Within thirty minutes, a ruthless plan to crush Fontaine Galleria took shape. He tapped his finger once on the glass, his eyes flat and unreadable.

"Go ahead and execute it." His order swept out with efficient finality.

Meanwhile, at the entrance of the Jones Group building, Erica showed up as she had all week, carrying a thermos of soup Aubrey had made for Vincent.

Today, though, the receptionist didn't even look up. Erica wasn't allowed inside; her name no longer appeared on the access list.

Erica dialed Vincent's private number without a second thought.The line rang, droning on-unyielding, impersonal, and endless.

She dialed again and again-once,twice, over a dozen times-each attempt ending in that cold, endless busy tone before a mechanical voice informed her the number couldn't be reached.It finally sank in: Vincent had blocked her.

The only explanation she could think of was the incident in his study being exposed. She tried calling Derek next, only to discover Vincent had also stripped her of building access. So that was it-Vincent was shutting every door in her face. Not

that was it-Vincent was shutting every door in her face. Not even a chance to plead her case.

Anger simmered under her skin. A sudden notification lit up her phone. The private eye she'd paid to watch Hannah's house had just sent her a photo-Vincent, caught on camera coming and going from Hannah's house, the timestamp a mocking reminder it was only last night. So that was how it was.

Jealousy and resentment coiled inside her chest, dark and poisonous. "Hannah Scott, you brought this upon yourself," she spat, her voice low and trembling with fury.