The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 750

"Dad, taking this money is like drinking poison to quench a thirst."

Hackett's face hardens. He despises his son questioning his authority. He waves a hand dismissively, his tone dripping with absolute finality.

"Enough. It's done. The papers are signed, the press conference is over, and the money is in the bank. Arguing about it is pointless. Our priority right now is stabilizing the company and deploying these funds."

He stands up, adjusts his designer tie, and fully resumes his role as the untouchable patriarch.

"Go coordinate with finance. Prioritize paying off the bank loans and our most critical suppliers. We'll worry about the rest later."

Looking at his father's stubborn, dangerously arrogant face, Josiah knows it's useless to argue. He sighs heavily, a dark pit of resignation in his chest. "...Understood."

Meanwhile, Clive's lab results have arrived.

Earlier that morning, Zeus had arrived at the hospital for his shift. Freshly dressed in his white coat, he sat down at his computer to prep for the day, rubbing his temples to fend off the exhaustion of the night shift.

Suddenly, he remembered something. He clicked his mouse, pulling up the internal hospital portal and navigating to the pending lab reports.

Based on the timeline, Clive's results should be in.

Thinking back to three days ago, when Clive barged into his office and caused a massive headache, Zeus is still highly annoyed. But Clive is his brother, and Zeus is a professional. He opens the file.

The moment the screen loads, the words hit him like a physical blow.

Honestly, he isn't even surprised by the diagnosis. Given how recklessly Clive parties and the absolute filth he surrounds himself with, this was bound to happen eventually.

But Clive's self-destruction is his own problem. The real issue is that the Sloan family is already in a massive crisis, and Clive is just piling on more unnecessary drama.

Since the report is official, it's time to break the news. Zeus wonders if Clive will finally regret treating his body like a garbage disposal.

His expression entirely blank, Zeus picks up his phone, finds Clive's number, and hits dial.

It rings for a long time. Finally, the call connects. There's a rustle of bedsheets over the line before Clive's raspy, sleep-heavy, and deeply irritated voice grumbles a greeting.