Chapter 1755:


    Even knowing that Alban’s interest wasn’t directed at Christina, his presence remained an irritant. Alban had already paid Gillian ten million to close the matter — so why was he back? The most obvious answer, to Bain’s mind, was that he wanted to use her somehow against the Jones family.


    “The person I want to see has nothing whatsoever to do with you,” Alban said, his gaze cutting toward Bain with barely concealed hostility. “Why is that your concern?”


    It genuinely unsettled him, the ease with which Gillian had woven herself into the fabric of this family.


    “She works for us,” Bain said, his voice sharpening. “That makes it very much my concern. You settled things with ten million and she turned down your proposal — so what business do you still have with her?”


    His patience had worn through entirely. The audacity of it made his jaw clench. Alban had thought money could tidy everything up, and Gillian’s refusal had clearly wounded his pride more than he was letting on. Bain knew, with a certainty that needed no verification, that life inside the Martel household would have been quietly miserable for Gillian. He was d she’d had the sense to say no.


    “What do you mean, no business? She even—” Alban stopped himself mid-sentence. He had nearly said too much. The theory about Adide’s paternity sat right on the edge of his tongue, and he pulled back just in time.


    ??ee?????? ????????ase?? ???? ??????????v?????.co??


    Bain misread the hesitation entirely — assuming Alban was about to shamelessly reference the night he’d spent with Gillian — and his lip curled. “Disgraceful.”


    “And who exactly gives you the right to say that to me?” Alban’s face darkened, his re sharp and unyielding.


    The air between them thickened, tension coiling toward something that was about to stop being verbal — until Christina stepped smoothly between them.


    “You want to see Gillian,” she said, her voice even. “That’s her decision to make, not mine or yours.”


    Alban didn’t hesitate. “Then bring her. I’ll speak with her directly.”


    “I’ll call her now.” Christina drew out her phone, dialed, and set it to speaker.


    The line connected almost immediately. Gillian’s voice came through, calm and unhurried. “Miss Jones? Is everything alright?”


    “Mr. Martel would like to have a meal with you,” Christina said simply. “Do you want to see him?”


    Alban stood very still, his pulse loud in his ears, barely breathing as he waited for Gillian’s answer. He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t spoken. He just waited, with the particr tension of a man who has staked more than he intended to.


    After a silence that stretched just long enough to feel deliberate, her voice came through the speaker.


    “I’m sorry. I don’t want to see him. Miss Jones, please let him know.”


    Calm. Neutral. As though she were conveying a minor scheduling matter rather than refusing him in front of an audience.


    Christina hadn’t even begun to respond when Alban said quickly, “Gillian—”


    The line went dead.


    She had disconnected without ceremony, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say before it could form. No pause. No softening. Nothing.


    .


    .


    .