The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 461

Although he had acted with arrogant confidence in the office just moments ago, vowing to handle the situation, he knew deep down that he had absolutely no plan. The figure—three hundred million dollars—spiraled frantically in his mind.

The Sloan family’s liquidity was currently strained, and they couldn't possibly produce such a staggering sum.

As for Clive, his lavish lifestyle meant his personal savings weren't even enough to cover a fraction of the breach of contract penalty.

He realized with a sinking heart that he had no choice but to agree to the company's demand and go to that dinner with Winifred. Sudden rage overtook him; he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the horn blaring a harsh, discordant note into the silence of the parking garage.

"Fuck!" His hoarse roar echoed within the confines of the car. In the rearview mirror, his eyes were bloodshot, and a vein throbbed violently at his temple.

Why? Why could a single word from the Fulton family destroy years of his hard work? Why did Magnus get to trade him like a piece of merchandise? Why had he fallen to such a pathetic state?

His phone vibrated, breaking his spiral of self-pity. It was a message from his agent, Luke.

[Clive, Winifred is waiting for you tomorrow night at Banyan Manor. This is the last chance the company is giving you.]

Clive stared at the text and suddenly laughed. It was a raspy, broken sound, like the final struggle of a trapped beast.

...

That evening, outside Clive’s apartment building.

Clive emerged from the underground garage as twilight deepened into night. He wore a black mask and a baseball cap pulled low, hiding half his face.

Yet, he had barely taken a few steps when blinding camera flashes erupted around him. He didn't know how the reporters had found him, but they had been camping out since he started trending, lying in wait for his return.

The moment Clive appeared, the journalists swarmed him like sharks smelling blood.

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