Begging for a Second Chance (Sienna Sloan and Jarred Sterling) novel Chapter 312

Jarred stepped out of the Manor to find the Cullinan already idling in the dark.

Declan Ward stood by the car, holding a tablet and looking anxious.

Seeing Jarred approach, he immediately hurried over.

Before Declan could say a word, Jarred slid into the backseat, the cabin instantly filling with an icy, oppressive tension.

He leaned back, closing his eyes to regulate his breathing, his voice low and laced with residual hostility. "Where's Mrs. Bridges?"

Declan quickly replied, "She's in the car behind us. I've already assigned someone to keep an eye on her."

The black Cullinan slowly made its way down the mountain.

Jarred glanced out the window at the trailing car.

Declan checked his boss's expression through the rearview mirror and spoke cautiously. "Boss, there's a more pressing situation at the moment..."

Jarred lazily opened one eye. "Spit it out."

Declan gulped, handing over the tablet. "Weston Wade just called. Madam ordered a freeze on all the assets you entrusted under his name."

Jarred's gaze turned icy. "What?"

"Madam had just kicked Ms. Carlyle out of the family, and right after, you told Ms. Carlyle to move into your apartment in front of everyone. It was practically asking for it."

Declan hadn't wanted to put it so bluntly, but facts were facts.

Jarred stiffened slightly, a dark shadow crossing his face. "That apartment was a bonus from my job."

"Which is why, aside from the apartment and your salary account, all your other assets were frozen," Declan explained, looking deeply conflicted.

"Not just that—the apartment was completely stripped bare. They even destroyed the renovations."

Jarred's brows knitted tightly, his aura terrifyingly cold. "Why?"

Declan's heart leaped into his throat. "Because you used your other card to pay for it. After all, the bulk of your wealth stems from the Sterling family."

Terrified to say more, Declan quietly bowed his head.

Jarred's indifferent facade instantly cracked, a layer of thin rage sweeping over his features.

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