He Cheated I Rose Making Him Regret Everything (Chloe and Arthur) novel Chapter 627

"Yeah," Chloe replied quietly. She got to her feet and glanced at her watch. "I should get going."

Scott watched as she turned to leave. Part of him wanted to call out, to ask her to stay at Lewis Manor—even just for the night—but the words stuck in his throat. How could he ask that of her now?

The fact that their relationship were slowly reconciling, and that Chloe could even bring herself to call him "Dad", was already more than he'd hoped for. Some things just needed time.

After leaving Lewis Manor, Chloe checked the time again. Her phone stayed silent. With a low sigh, she drove back to the budget hotel she'd been staying at.

Two days away from Vincent's shadow—two days of breathing freely. She'd braced herself for a confrontation when she returned, ready with every argument she could muster.

But to her surprise, when she walked into the hotel lobby, only the usual guards nodded her way. Vincent was nowhere in sight.

No questions, no demands. She made it back to her room without so much as a word from anyone.

A faint sense of relief washed over her. All that mental preparation, and for what?

Still, it left her wondering. Vincent wasn't here. Where did he go?

A man like him could be anywhere in the world on a whim, always wrapped in that cloud of mystery. Why should she even care?

Chloe shook off the thought. She had more important things to focus on.

Lately, she'd been chasing leads on Carolyn—every trail seemed to go cold just as she got close. It was exhausting, frustrating, but she couldn't stop.

Her plan was straightforward: find Carolyn, make her pay. Then tackle the second task Vincent had given her, and the third. After that, they'd be even. No more debts, no more ties.

She could finally get her life back.

She hung onto that hope, holding it tight. Until then, she'd do whatever it took to end this.

Chloe mapped out her next steps in her mind, determined to cut all ties with Vincent for good.

Meanwhile, Vincent was riding in the back of a black sedan, heading toward an abandoned dock on the outskirts of the city.

The car rolled to a stop near the water. Before the engine cut off, one of his men was already opening the door.

The smell of decay and stagnant seawater drifted in. Vincent's nose wrinkled in disgust. Outside, the ground was littered with debris and stained with grime—enough to ruin a pair of handmade Italian loafers.

He could've stayed in the car. But he didn't.

"Master."

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