The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 580

At the far end of the corridor, Evelyn and Sebastian's silhouettes vanished around the corner.

Lance Sterling remained rooted to his spot, watching them leave before finally pulling his gaze away.

He didn't follow them.

Mr. Thorne was right—he needed to stay here and wait for updates. Louis wasn't out of the woods yet, and if anything went wrong, someone had to be present.

Lance turned and walked in the opposite direction.

He found a secluded stairwell, pushed the heavy door open, and stepped inside.

The stairwell was deathly silent. The motion-sensor lights flickered on, then shut off again, leaving only the eerie green glow of the emergency exit sign pooling in the corner.

He fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulled one out, and lit it.

He took a deep drag.

As the nicotine flooded his lungs, his mind cleared a fraction.

He glanced down at his heavily bandaged hand. A small drop of fresh blood had seeped through the white gauze—just a tiny speck, like a bright red flower.

The terrifying crash replayed on an endless loop in his head.

The sheer force of the truck slamming into them. The deafening shriek of tearing metal. The explosive shower of shattered glass. Louis slouched against the backseat, his face entirely masked in blood.

And then, that cold phrase.

"Target eliminated."

Lance crushed the cigarette butt against the wall and tossed it into the trash can.

He pushed the stairwell door open and stepped back into the hallway.

A nurse leaned out from behind the station, spotted him, hesitated for a second, and then hurried over.

"Sir."

Lance looked at her. "Is something wrong?"

The nurse glanced nervously over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "Some men were just here asking about the crash."

Lance's fingers twitched.

"What kind of men?"

"Two guys. Dressed in dark suits, didn't look like locals." The nurse's voice was barely a whisper. "They asked about the condition of the victims brought in from the accident."

"What did you tell them?"

"Exactly what that lady instructed me to say," the nurse replied. "I said, 'Sir, which accident are you referring to? We receive multiple trauma patients daily; I have no idea who you're asking about.'"

Lance nodded. That was Evelyn's script. Don't confirm, don't deny, keep everything maddeningly vague.

"And then?"

"And then they said—" The nurse paused, her expression turning slightly perplexed. "They said, 'The handsome businessman.'"

Lance's heart skipped a beat.

The handsome businessman.

Not "a couple." Not "a man and a woman." Not "a pregnant lady."

Just "one man."

"How did you respond?" His voice remained perfectly composed, but his hand had already slid into his pocket, gripping his phone.

"I stuck to the script that lady gave me—" the nurse answered. "I told them that the critically injured patient's identity was strictly confidential, but that we did admit an Asian entrepreneur. I insisted I couldn't reveal any names."

Lance studied her. "Did they buy it?"