The Jilted Heiress' Return To The High Life novel Chapter 145

Chapter 145 Disaster

The captain, Wilbur Duffy, tracked Matias’ gaze, uncertainty flickering across his

weathered features.

The interrogation room door swung open with a soft creak, revealing an interrogator who straightened his posture at the sight of his superior. “Mr. Duffy,” he acknowledged

with deference.

Wilbur inclined his head toward the interrogation room, his chin movement deliberate.

“What’s the situation in there?”

“We’ve apprehended a group following reports of illicit dealings,” the interrogator elaborated. “The suspects are undergoing questioning as we speak.”

“Illicit dealings?” Matias echoed, his quiet words carrying layers of unspoken meaning.

The interrogator shifted his gaze toward Wilbur, seeking silent permission before continuing. “There’s been an organization trafficking in forged antiques and artwork for several years. The evidence recovered from these individuals suggests connections to an unresolved case from three years ago.”

Wilbur studied Matias’ countenance with careful consideration. “Does something about this case trouble you, Matias?”

Emerging from his contemplation, Matias offered a measured smile.

“This appears to be quite a significant case. It will likely require your personal oversight. Other matters demand my attention, so I’ll take my leave.” He slipped one hand into his pocket and strode away, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.

His mind churned with the near-certainty that Corrine sat in that interrogation room.

The question of whether Nate knew about this development weighed heavily on his thoughts.

After careful deliberation, Matias resolved to return to the company immediately and inform Nate, knowing full well Wilbur’s reputation for unwavering strictness and absolute impartiality.

Within the station’s confines, interrogators methodically questioned each suspect.

Corrine remained seated at the center, her wrists bound to the table by cold metal

handcuffs.

Wilbur’s entrance brought a chill to the room. “Name, age, occupation!” he demanded, his voice sharp as steel.

Corrine responded to each query with composed precision.

“What brought you to the scene? Were you involved in illegal transactions? Did you transport those items?”

“To save someone. No, and no.” Corrine’s replies cut through the air with deliberate brevity.

Her detached demeanor ignited Wilbur’s fury. His fist crashed against the table. “Young lady, you have a promising future ahead. Here’s some wisdom-better safe than sorry! Otherwise, you might spend your prime years behind prison walls!”

The day’s events struck Corrine as peculiar. Though the identity of the informant remained a mystery, she refused to dwell on such trivialities.

“Might I make a phone call?”

“You think this is a hotel?” Wilbur’s anger flared anew, his eyes blazing. “Cooperate, or face the consequences!”

Corrine’s gaze drifted to the wall clock, her voice carrying practiced indifference.

“Whatever.”

Her thoughts wandered to Jules-surely the message had reached him by now, and he

was en route.

In the neighboring interrogation room, perspiration soaked through Donnelly’s clothes.