The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 472

This Leilani was indeed a friend worth making.

On the drive back, Malcolm dialed Floyd.

"Professor Dillon," he said, his tone carrying a rare note of playfulness. "This 'youngster' of yours has really opened my eyes."

On the other end, Floyd laughed heartily. "Well? I didn't exaggerate, did I?"

"You didn't exaggerate enough," Malcolm shook his head. "Her grasp of certain medical concepts surpasses even the doctoral students I've supervised. No wonder you hold her in such high regard."

***

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city, Clive had been backed into a corner.

Ever since his agency officially announced the termination of his contract, debt collection messages had been flooding Clive's phone. They arrived like a death knell, vibrating incessantly.

Clive sat in his dark living room. He had lost count of how many days it had been since he last saw sunlight. The glow of his phone screen illuminated his pale, gaunt face. On the screen lay a fresh message from Luke.

[Clive, stop playing dead. The company has issued a final ultimatum. If you don't sign the termination agreement by 10:00 AM tomorrow, they will sue you immediately. The penalty won't just be three hundred million then. Think it over.]

Clive's fingers trembled slightly. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and swigged it, the alcohol burning his numb throat.

The phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from his older brother, Josiah.

[How is the situation with your company coming along? Mom and Dad are furious about this mess. Fix it yourself. Remember the one-week deadline I gave you. If the week passes and you haven't returned, you can die out there for all we care. The Sloan family will act as if you never existed.]

Every message was a spike driving into his already frayed nerves.

***

The next morning, at six o'clock, the sky was just turning a pale grey.

Clive stood downstairs at the agency, not rushing to enter. He stared blankly at the company sign. Early morning joggers glanced at him but quickly moved on, failing to recognize the unshaven man as the superstar who once dominated screens.

The elevator ascended floor by floor. Clive watched the numbers jump, recalling the first time he came to sign his contract four years ago. That day, he had worn a custom suit, surrounded by an entourage. The CEO had personally poured him coffee, calling him a "future superstar." But now...

“Ding.”

The elevator doors opened, interrupting his memories. He looked up and saw his arch-rival making coffee at the front desk. Seeing Clive, the man raised an eyebrow in exaggerated surprise.

"Oh my, isn't this the famous Clive? Did the sun rise in the west?"