The Wife He Dumped, The Queen She Returned As novel Chapter 167

"And on the phone, she was saying something about..."

"Call the doctor."

Preston's brow furrowed tightly. He couldn't care less about some phone call right now. He scooped Chloe up into his arms in one swift motion.

"Let me go!"

With her feet off the ground, Chloe thrashed wildly.

Preston tried to soothe her, fighting to keep his patience. "Be good, stop moving. You're hurt."

"It's none of your business! Don't touch me!"

Chloe reacted like a wounded animal, struggling even more violently.

Terrified of aggravating her injuries, Preston had no choice but to set her down, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine, I won't touch you. Go to your room, I'll help you clean up the wounds."

Chloe steadied herself on her feet. Without so much as looking at him, she turned and limped toward the entryway.

On her frantic rush back, adrenaline had completely numbed the pain.

Now, all those ignored injuries hit her like a crushing tidal wave.

"Where are you going?"

Preston called after her.

Chloe didn't pause for a single second. She bypassed Wendy, who was currently on the phone, and walked right out the door without looking back.

She went to the police.

Giving a statement, documenting her injuries, cooperating with the investigation.

After hours of grueling procedures, the response she received was—

"We apologize, Ms. Reed, but the camera at that intersection was broken."

"The other cameras only caught a blurry shot of you getting into the vehicle, but there isn't enough concrete evidence."

"As for the car, the plates were cloned. We're still running checks on the owner's information."

Listening to the canned excuses, Chloe instantly knew whoever pulled the strings had serious power.

If she pushed any harder, they'd just toss out a scapegoat.

Seeing her silence, the officer asked,

"You look terrible. Do you need us to run you to the hospital?"

"..."

It was snowing when she walked out of the station.

The flakes drifted down under the amber glow of the streetlights, illuminating a young couple holding each other tightly.

The girl was small, burying herself in the boy's chest, her voice choked with tears.

...

Aethel Lounge.

Inside the insanely lavish private club, panoramic windows offered a sweeping view of the city's skyline, the air thick with the scent of high-end cologne.

The door to the private room was suddenly kicked open.

The girl lounging on the sofa scowled, shooting an irritated glare at the door.

"Who the hell are you?"

In the next second, as the woman's face registered, all the color drained from the girl's cheeks.

"You're not allowed in here! Get the hell out!"

She shrieked, but sheer panic leaked into her voice.

As she yelled, she fumbled for her phone to make a call.

Before she could, the phone was violently slapped out of her hand.

"What are you doing?! I don't even know you!!"

The girl began to scream at the top of her lungs.

Smash—

The deafening crack of shattering glass filled the room as liquor sprayed everywhere.