The Wife He Dumped, The Queen She Returned As novel Chapter 325

Chloe didn't spare him a single glance.

Under the watchful eyes of the entire crowd, she grabbed Quentin's sleeve and pulled him away, her hands still shaking slightly.

Preston was left standing there alone, feeling as though a wrecking ball had just slammed into his chest.

He couldn't comprehend what had happened to Chloe.

She was never the type to cause such reckless scenes.

Even when she was angry, she always knew where to draw the line.

Preston gritted his teeth and started to go after her.

But before he could take more than two steps, a figure darted out from the crowd, blocking his path.

"Preston, you need to calm down," William Pierce said, his eyes full of deep concern.

...

The lighting in the private bar was deliberately dim, casting long shadows over the few remaining patrons.

Preston slammed his glass of whiskey back, letting the fiery liquid burn down his throat.

He felt entirely numb. He reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass.

"Preston, that's enough," William said, grabbing his wrist.

Preston forcefully yanked his hand away. "Don't try to stop me."

He felt like he was drowning in agony.

But he couldn't even articulate why it hurt so badly.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Chloe's face. Every time he opened them, she was right there in his mind.

The look she had given him—like he was some irredeemable monster, or worse, like she had completely and utterly scrubbed him from her heart.

It made no sense.

How could someone change so drastically in just a few months?

How could her love for him just... vanish?

William didn't try to stop him again. He just sat there, studying his friend.

He had known Preston for years; they had been pen pals since they were teenagers.

William still clearly remembered the wedding photo Preston had mailed him years ago.

They had looked so breathtakingly perfect together, a match made in heaven.

"I've been in the simultaneous interpretation industry for years. I am completely certain," William answered firmly. "Chloe's translation style is fundamentally different from Caroline's. As for the similarities in their voices... it's a hell of a coincidence, but it's entirely scientifically possible."

"Right," Preston murmured, his mind already spinning elsewhere.

He was still incredibly suspicious.

But it was impossible to articulate. It felt more like a terrifying gut instinct.

"I'll make sure to properly thank you another time."

"We've been friends too long for you to act so polite with me," William sighed heavily. "But Preston, I can see how deeply you care about her. Let me give you some advice. Whatever misunderstandings you two have, you need to sit down and communicate like adults."

"It's too easy to lose perspective when you're the one in the storm. If you let her slip away, you are going to spend the rest of your life drowning in regret."

During the agonizing week Chloe had completely vanished from his life, Preston had actually tortured himself over that exact question.

Did he love Chloe?

He didn't know.

But he was unequivocally certain of one thing: he could not endure the thought of her disappearing from his life.

He was addicted to her presence. He craved the way those beautiful eyes used to look at him.