Twilight Romance: Flash Marriage to Mature Tycoon – Episode 13
Tony answered the call with irritation that vanished after the first sentence. Astor Group’s compliance division wanted all Smith financial records delivered by Monday morning. Failure to cooperate would end negotiations immediately. The color drained from his face as Ray helped Jocelyn to her feet.
Wendy demanded an explanation, but Tony silenced her with a look. The Smith proposal contained shortcuts he had expected friendly executives to overlook. A full review could expose inflated projections and undisclosed conflicts. For the first time that day, his arrogance gave way to genuine fear.
Stacy followed Ray and Jocelyn onto the front step. She accused them of cursing the family and insisted their departure had caused the second call. Jocelyn could not understand the logic, but cruelty rarely required logic. Ray turned, placing himself between the two women.
“Your family’s business problems are its own,” he said. “Stop making my wife carry consequences she did not create.” The possessive certainty in my wife steadied Jocelyn. No one had defended her so openly in years, and accepting that protection still felt unfamiliar.
Harry came outside with Caleb sleeping in his arms. He apologized for the party and asked Jocelyn not to let Stacy’s behavior keep her away permanently. Jocelyn touched her grandson’s tiny hand, but she no longer promised to endure anything for access to him. She told Harry the door to her home was open when he was ready to visit respectfully.
The boundary shocked him. It also seemed to relieve something within her. Ray opened the car door and waited while Jocelyn took one final look at the townhouse. She did not see Stacy watching with resentment, or Tony standing behind the curtain with suspicion fixed on Ray.
During the drive home, Jocelyn remained silent. Ray expected tears, yet her expression held exhaustion rather than collapse. She turned the broken locket over in her palm and admitted that she had spent years believing patience would eventually earn Stacy’s kindness.
“Kindness is not a wage,” Ray said. “You should not have to work for the right to be treated decently.” Jocelyn looked at him, recognizing a truth she had offered others but never herself. She asked how a construction worker had learned to speak like a man accustomed to giving orders.
The question nearly exposed him. Ray smiled and claimed that job sites taught direct communication. Jocelyn accepted the answer only halfway. He noticed the thoughtful crease between her brows and understood that every display of authority made his disguise harder to sustain.
At home, Ray spread the locket pieces across the kitchen table. Jocelyn said it was beyond repair, but he refused to throw it away. He had restored failing companies and broken agreements; a damaged clasp should not defeat him. The intensity he brought to the tiny object made her laugh despite the day.
They worked together beneath the warm pendant light. Jocelyn held the pieces while Ray used tools from the garage. Their shoulders touched, and the quiet domestic closeness began washing the Smiths’ voices from her mind. By midnight, the locket closed again, a thin silver seam marking where it had broken.
“It isn’t perfect,” Ray said. Jocelyn traced the repaired edge and replied that survival left marks. She fastened the chain around her own neck for safekeeping. When she thanked him, the gratitude in her eyes made him wish he could repair every wound as easily.
Their hands lingered on the table. Ray asked whether she regretted staying in the city. Jocelyn considered the ruined party, then looked around the home they were slowly making theirs. “Not tonight,” she answered.
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was restrained, yet it carried the intimacy of a vow. Jocelyn did not pull away. Instead, she moved closer until her shoulder rested against his.
Ray’s phone vibrated. A message from his assistant confirmed that the Smith review had uncovered irregularities serious enough to suspend negotiations. It also warned that Tony Smith had begun asking who had initiated the scrutiny. Ray locked the screen before Jocelyn could see.
She noticed the change in his expression and asked whether work was calling. Ray said there was a problem at a site, another half-truth added to the growing collection between them. Jocelyn encouraged him to handle it, trusting him without reservation.
In the privacy of the study, Ray called his assistant. He ordered the review to proceed fairly and forbade anyone from punishing innocent employees for Tony’s behavior. His objective was accountability, not destruction. Still, if the Smiths threatened Jocelyn again, he would end the partnership himself.
Outside the partly closed door, Jocelyn approached with tea and heard only the final sentence: “No one touches my wife.” The cold authority in Ray’s voice stopped her. It did not sound like a laborer speaking to a foreman.
She stepped back before he emerged, unsettled by the sudden sense that parts of her husband remained hidden. Trust required time, she reminded herself, and everyone was entitled to private work conversations. Yet the explanation did not quiet her curiosity.
Across town, Tony received a name from a frightened contact inside Astor Group. The review had been ordered from the chairman’s office minutes after Ray arrived at the party. Tony stared at a photograph Stacy had taken of Jocelyn’s husband and whispered, “Who are you?”