The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 795

Clive’s mouth opened, but his throat felt as tight as sandpaper. He couldn't force a single word out.

He was completely broke. Worse, his lingering medical issues required a small fortune in ongoing treatments just to maintain his health. His days of coasting by on his looks, sweet-talking wealthy older women into funding his lifestyle, were definitively over.

He couldn't even save himself, let alone bail out the entire Sloan empire.

Keeping his eyes glued to the floor, Clive mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "Dad, don't look at me. You know my contract got terminated. I'm drowning in breach-of-contract fines. I don't have a dime to my name to help the family."

Hackett stared at his sons—their shifty eyes, their pathetic excuses—and the last fragile thread of hope inside him snapped.

When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.

Disaster had struck, and it was every man for himself. After everything he had done to build a legacy, his sons were entirely useless. Not a single one of them could be relied upon.

Hackett's chest heaved violently. He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for air, refusing to look at them anymore. The very sight of them drained the life from him.

Suddenly, the heart monitor beside his bed erupted into a shrill, piercing alarm.

Nurses flooded the room, shoving the family aside to adjust the equipment and administer medication. The room descended into absolute chaos.

Watching the nightmare unfold, Zadie felt a chilling sense of absurdity. She had spent decades raising these children, only to find that in their darkest hour, they were completely hollow. Silent tears tracked down her face as she gripped her husband's clammy hand.

Eventually, the medical team managed to stabilize Hackett once more.

The nurses, visibly irritated by the family's constant drama, delivered a stern warning. If Hackett didn't control his emotions, he was going to end up right back in the resuscitation room—and this time, he might not make it out.

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