The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 414

A black sedan tore through the streets of Paris.

The city blurred past the windows, sunlight filtering through the glass and casting mottled shadows across the car's interior.

Christian leaned back against the seat, his eyes closed.

His face remained starkly pale, a trace of dried blood still lingering at the corner of his mouth. The collar of his shirt was unkempt, making him look thoroughly disheveled.

Miles glanced at him through the rearview mirror, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

He had worked for Christian for years and had never seen the man in such a pathetic state.

He quietly grabbed a pack of tissues and handed it back.

"Mr. Lancaster, you should wipe your face."

Christian opened his eyes and took the tissues.

He wiped the blood from his mouth, leaving a startling smear of crimson on the white paper.

Miles then handed back a bottle of water.

"Rinse your mouth."

Christian took the bottle, twisted off the cap, took a swig, and spat it into the car's trash bin.

The metallic tang finally faded a little.

He leaned back again and closed his eyes.

"What's the status from the men watching Piper?"

Miles hastily grabbed his phone and dialed the bodyguards' number.

It rang several times before connecting. The background noise was chaotic, a mix of unintelligible yelling and thumping music.

"Miles!" The bodyguard's voice was hushed. "We're outside a motel. Piper was taken inside by those two men. She looks like she's unconscious. This place... it's not right."

Miles's heart sank.

"Which motel? Give me the exact location."

The bodyguard rattled off an address.

Miles's expression darkened.

He hung up the phone and looked back at Christian.

"Mr. Lancaster, that area..." He swallowed hard. "It's the Saint-Denis Slums on the outskirts of Paris. It's a complete lawless zone. It's crawling with the worst kinds of people, and the police rarely ever go in."

Christian's eyes snapped open.

They were heavily bloodshot, but the gaze within was as cold as ice.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath. "They have a death wish."

He sat up straight, his voice dropping into a deadly chill:

"Drive faster."

Miles slammed the gas pedal down. The car wove aggressively through traffic, drawing a chorus of angry horns.

—

Christian grabbed his phone and dialed an encrypted number.

It rang twice before connecting.

A gruff, international mercenary accent came through the speaker:

"Mr. Lancaster?"