?<strong>Chapter 223:</strong>


    “Kristopher, do you even hear yourself? What’s wrong with you?” Camille snapped, rolling up her sleeves, looking ready to confront him.


    Before she could act, Albin stepped in, holding her back. “Take it easy, Camille. Kristopher’s upset because he cares. If he didn’t, would he have searched for her all night? Cut him some ck, okay?”


    Though still fuming, Camille recalled how upset Kristopher was the previous night. She begrudgingly allowed Albin to lead her away, grumbling under her breath.


    Carrie, however, stood in stunned silence, her thoughts spinning. Kristopher thought she’d disappeared because she couldn’t handle some online gossip? What exactly did he think of her?


    Her voice trembled with frustration and despair. “Kristopher, do you even know what I went throughst night?” Her chest heaved with unspoken grievances, but the ache of his mistrust hurt even more.


    Before Kristopher could respond, Daxton stepped forward, cing himself protectively between Carrie and him.


    “I don’t know the full story,” Daxton began, his tone calm yet firm, “but when I found Carriest night, she was unconscious, floating in the ocean. If it weren’t for the two experienced sailors on my yacht, she could’ve drowned.”


    He turned to the officers nearby, his expression serious. “I suspect this was an attempted murder. I urge you to investigate thoroughly.”


    Carrie felt a wave of warmth rise in her chest at Daxton’s words. His steady presence and support soothed her frayed nerves. The contrast between the two men couldn’t have been starker—one dismissive, the other protective.


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    Kristopher’s eyes darkened as he red at Daxton, his anger simmering beneath the surface.


    He felt that for the first time, he understood what a true maniptor, pretending to be pure and innocent, was like, which most women hated.


    “I’ll take you to the police station to give your statement,” Kristopher said coldly, reaching for Carrie’s hand.


    But she stepped back, evading his touch.


    With deliberate movements, she removed his jacket and handed it back to him. “Daxton, since you’re a witness, would you minding with me to the station?”


    Kristopher stood frozen, refusing to take the jacket, and itnded on the muddy ground. The designer piece, worth tens of thousands, was smeared with dirt, but he didn’t even nce at it. His gaze remained fixed on Carrie, his chest tightening painfully.


    “Of course, I’ll go with you,” Daxton replied softly. His tone was steady yet carried a subtle hint of challenge. To Kristopher, it was a tant provocation.


    Before they could leave, Kristopher stepped in front of them, his voice like ice. “I said, I’ll take you to the police station.”


    Carrie ignored him and moved to step around him. He blocked her path again, his voice sharper this time. “Carrie!”


    “Stop pushing her. She’s been through enough,” Daxton interjected, his tone firm, though his frown betrayed his growing annoyance.


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