Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 750

Hudson shot him a bored look and lied effortlessly. "No."

Gavin abruptly stood up. "How is that possible? Are you sure you're remembering correctly? Or maybe you just haven't looked close enough..."

Before Gavin could finish, Hudson cut him down with a lazy, venomous glare. "She's my wife. Do you really think I don't know every inch of her body? I said no, which means no."

Gavin frowned deeply.

He didn't buy Hudson's dismissal for a second.

But the reality was complicated. Nora wasn't just the Lancaster matriarch anymore. She was the eldest daughter of the Fairchild family, and the Vaughn family's long-lost granddaughter.

Any one of those titles meant she was completely untouchable.

Yet the Ring Laser Gyro tech was far too critical to ignore.

He couldn't just drop it.

At the same time, he couldn't exactly order a team to forcibly search her body.

Even setting the Fairchilds and Vaughns aside, this aggressively overprotective husband sitting across from him would chop him to pieces and feed him to the dogs before letting anyone near her.

"Why don't you double-check when you get home?" Gavin pressed stubbornly. "It's a twenty-year-old scar; it might have faded completely. If you don't want to handle it yourself, I can send a team of female physicians..."

"Not happening."

"Hudson..."

Gavin tried to argue, but the words died in his throat the second he met Hudson's cold, murderous gaze.

Fine.

Gavin sighed internally—he would have to find another opening.

Physical examination wasn't the only way to detect a microchip. A specialized scanner could do the job from a distance...

He just needed to figure out when to use it.

As Gavin plotted silently, Hudson withdrew his icy stare.

He knew perfectly well that Gavin wasn't giving up.

But he also knew that if there really was a microchip embedded in Nora's tissue, retrieving it meant cutting her open.

He absolutely refused to let her go through that kind of pain.

More importantly, he needed to speak with Nora first.

It was something her mother had left behind for her.

If she didn't want to extract it, then not even God himself could force her. He would protect her from anyone who tried.

...

Meanwhile, at the Winslow Estate.

Jude sat at his desk, staring at a yellowed medical file. The cover was heavily worn, the corners curling, and the edges of the pages stained with the dark, brittle age of old paper.

It had taken him the better part of the day to dig this out from the deepest archives of the Winslow Estate. It was his great-grandfather's medical record.

He flipped to the last page, his finger tracing the final diagnostic conclusion:

[Cerebral hemorrhage. Resuscitation failed. Pronounced dead at 11:20 PM.]

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