The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 624

Evening fell. Fitch Sherwood pushed open the front door, handing his briefcase to a waiting servant as he loosened his tie, his face etched with fatigue. In the living room, Milford Sherwood was curled up on the sofa with a book, his pale profile illuminated by the warm glow of a floor lamp. He heard his father come in but didn't look up, merely turning a page.

Fitch slipped on his house shoes, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. He took a sip, his eyes falling on his son. Suddenly, he remembered the promise he had made to Hackett Sloan at the Sloan Group's shareholder meeting earlier that day: "Once Tamara's health stabilizes, I will personally bring Milford to your home to apologize and escort her back to the Sherwood family with all due respect."

Hackett hadn't agreed outright, but the anger in his eyes had noticeably softened.

Thinking of this, Fitch set down his glass and walked over to the sofa, his shadow falling across Milford's book. "You're going to the Sloan residence tomorrow," he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Milford's hand froze mid-page. He looked up. "Why would I go there?"

"To apologize to Tamara Sloan. And to bring her home," Fitch stated calmly, as if discussing the most ordinary of matters.

But he seemed to have forgotten that ever since he had slapped his son in front of everyone because of Tamara, Milford's dislike for her had hardened into pure loathing. With Tamara at her family's home, she was out of his sight, and he preferred it that way. He had no intention of bringing her back.

He stood and walked over to Milford, his gaze imposing. "Milford, you are my only son, the heir to the Sherwood family. If you can't even control your own emotions, how can you possibly bear that responsibility?"

Milford turned his head away, his voice stiff. "No matter what you say, I won't go get her. And I certainly won't apologize." Apologize to that woman? He'd rather die.

Milford was unyielding. Fitch's anger flared, and he raised a hand as if to strike him, but seeing his son's defiant eyes, he forced himself to stop. He knew his son's weakness. Fitch's eyes narrowed, and his voice suddenly became smooth. "Milford, haven't you always wanted to divorce Tamara?"