The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 892

Clive had long since lost his patience and wasn't about to waste breath on a maid. He didn't even wait for her to finish speaking. The moment she hesitated, he slammed his shoulder forward!

Forcing the heavy door open just enough, he slipped through the crack like a shadow, leaving the maid's shocked gasps and frantic attempts to stop him entirely behind.

"Who let you in? Get out!"

A sharp, furious female voice echoed from the top of the second-floor landing. Clive looked up to see Winifred descending the spiral staircase. She wore an emerald-green silk robe that must have cost a small fortune, the deep color making her skin look even more luminous. Her posture was as elegant as ever.

But her perfectly preserved face was twisted in unfiltered disgust. She looked at him as if he were a piece of trash she had accidentally tracked in on her shoe.

Her stare seized his heart like a vice. Still, he refused to back down. Instead, he took a few aggressive steps forward, planting himself in the center of the plush living room rug. They stood several feet apart in a tense standoff.

He forced his aching, exhausted back to straighten, taking a deep breath to mask just how precariously close he was to collapsing. But the moment he opened his mouth, the slight tremble in his voice betrayed his crumbling facade.

"Winifred, you know exactly why I'm here," he said, using her first name to try and invoke whatever past affection they might have shared. "I don't want to make this ugly."

"But right now... I'm really backed into a corner. You know I'm sick, and I desperately need cash. I'm only in this mess because of what you people did to me. You can't just leave me to die."

He stared at her, nervously gauging her reaction.

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