Chapter 649
Chapter 649:
Vivian’s spine turned to ice. A wave of pure disgust washed over her. She pressed her hands against his chest and took a rigid half-step back. “Do not touch me,” she hissed in rapid French. “This is New York. You do not own the room here p>
Jean-Paul chuckled, the sound dark and low. He took a sip of his whiskey. “I came to discuss Chloe’s Christmas plans p>
Vivian glared at him. “She is going to the chalet in Switzerland. It’s settled p>
Jean-Paul swirled the ice in his glass and leaned down, his mouth inches from her ear. “Switzerland is bleeding right now, Vivian. A shipyard in Geneva was shot to pieces two nights ago. I know Dallas pulled the trigger p>
Vivian’s lungs seized. She kept her face perfectly blank, but her fingers gripped her champagne flute tight enough to snap the crystal stem.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coldly.
Jean-Paul smiled — a vicious, knowing expression. “The European dark web is screaming. Someone is hunting a ghost. A legendary intelligence broker who vanished years ago. Until the dust settles, Chloe is not setting foot on that continent p>
Vivian’s heart hammered against her ribs. “She is perfectly safe in the penthouse p>
𝘋𝗂𝘀𝖼𝗈v𝖾r 𝗵𝗂𝘥d𝖾n 𝗀е𝗆𝘀 оn
“She will be,” Jean-Paul agreed. “Because I am moving into the penthouse tonight. We will spend Christmas as a family p>
“Over my dead body,” Vivian said, feeling physically sick at the thought of him invading her sanctuary.
Jean-Paul’s eyes turned dead and flat. He delivered the kill shot. “If you say no, I will file an emergency injunction tomorrow morning. I will freeze Chloe’s passport. And then I will call Gigi Koch and tell her exactly what her precious grandson is doing in Geneva p>
Vivian stopped breathing. He had found the exact knife to hold to her throat. If Gigi found out, Dallas and Eliza would be dragged back to New York and stripped of everything.
She stared at the monster she used to love. Pure hatred burned in her chest.
She swallowed her pride. It tasted like ash.
“Fine p>
She slammed her champagne glass onto a passing waiter’s tray and stormed toward the exit.
Jean-Paul watched her walk away. He pulled his phone from his tuxedo pocket and dialed his chief intelligence officer.
“Bring the decryption rig to the penthouse,” he ordered. “I want my daughter’s safe cracked in ten minutes. I need to see what Dallas Koch sent her p>
The penthouse was dead silent, the central air conditioning humming softly in the dark. Chloe was fast asleep in her bedroom, knocked out by a heavy dose of melatonin.
Jean-Paul de Valois entered her private sitting room with the quiet, entitled confidence of a man who owned the building. He wore a black silk robe. His chief intelligence officer knelt before the biometric safe while a military-grade decryption terminal sat on the floor, lines of green code scrolling rapidly across the screen.
A soft click echoed in the quiet room. The heavy steel door popped open.
Jean-Paul pulled on a pair of white anti-static gloves, reached inside, and carefully withdrew the velvet box. He set it on the mahogany desk and lifted the lid.
The purple sandalwood bird rested on its cushion.