The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 764

Winifred let out a soft laugh, mocking his absolute naivety. "Weigh your options carefully, Mr. Sloan. If you blow this up, the only one whose life is completely, irreparably destroyed is you—and the Sloan family."

"And us?"

"We might get a minor PR headache from a little scandalous gossip. Do you really think any of us are scared of you?"

Clive stood frozen, the phone gripped in his hand. It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Every word she spoke was a poisoned needle hitting his most vulnerable, terrifying insecurities.

He opened his mouth to fire back, but his throat was sealed tight. He couldn't force a single word out.

The fiery rage of mutually assured destruction had been effortlessly crushed by the cold, hard reality, leaving behind nothing but an endless, hollow despair.

Realizing he had nothing left to say, Winifred dropped her final, icy dismissal. "Take care of yourself."

The line went dead. The dial tone echoed in the quiet room.

Clive remained rigid for a long moment before his phone slipped from his numb fingers, thudding softly against the carpet. He slowly sank to the floor, grabbing his hair and digging his nails into his scalp.

...

It felt as if a dark curse had descended upon the entire family.

While Clive drowned in the horrific reality of his illness, Josiah was running himself into the ground trying to save the Sloan Group.

It was another late night. He sat alone at his desk, the blue glow of the monitor illuminating the deep exhaustion in his sharp eyes.

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