The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 462

As the elevator doors began to slide shut, the reporters continued to slap the metal panels, their camera flashes blinding and suffocating.

Finally, the doors closed completely, severing the chaotic noise of the outside world. Clive let out a long, ragged breath, collapsing backward against the elevator wall as if all his strength had been drained. His chest heaved violently, but the reporters' shrill accusations still echoed in his mind.

"Clive! Were you really two-timing them?"

"What's the truth about those five women?"

"How will you pay back the three hundred million?"

Clive clutched his head in agony, trying to shut out the voices, trying to deceive himself into believing none of this was happening.

He looked up, and the polished mirrored surface of the elevator reflected his sorry state. He was no longer the dashing, impeccably dressed idol who had left the house that morning. His hair was a mess, his collar had been yanked askew during the scuffle, and a layer of cold sweat coated his forehead.

Clive stared at his reflection and suddenly curled his lip into a mocking smile. Once, he frequented high-end clubs, surrounded by entourages, walking with the wind at his back. Now, he was cornered by debt collectors and gossip mongers at his own doorstep, fleeing like a stray dog.

What a ridiculous joke!

The elevator rose slowly, the floor numbers ticking up one by one until it reached his penthouse.

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