The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 915

"I... I need to speak to Ms. Larson. It's Clive!"

"I need to talk to her immediately. It's an absolute emergency. Is she available?"

The man's voice remained flat, laced with a faint, unmistakable edge of disgust.

"Mr. Sloan, is it?"

"Ms. Larson made it explicitly clear that you are not to contact her ever again. She is currently very busy and has no time to deal with irrelevant people."

"What about Mrs. Watson?! Let me talk to her! Just one sentence! I just need one minute!"

Ms. Larson and Mrs. Watson ran in the exact same corporate circles.

They had even invited him to one of their wild group parties before, so Clive knew for a fact they were probably sitting in the same room.

Clive was practically shrieking, as if raising his volume could somehow force a miracle.

"Mrs. Watson is in a very important board meeting. She does not take calls from nobodies."

The assistant's tone dropped any pretense of politeness, delivering the dismissal with brutal efficiency before hanging up.

The dial tone hammered into Clive's skull.

He frantically dialed a few more numbers from their inner circle. The result was identical.

They had either blocked him, or he was intercepted by a polite, icy assistant who shut him down instantly.

All those sweet whispers, all those promises of "If you ever need anything, just call me," popped like pathetic soap bubbles.

Staring at the glowing cracks on his screen, the horrifying truth crashed over him.

How could he have been so stupid?

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify