?Chapter 1158:


    But Yvonne was still trapped in her memories long after the crowd had gone. She remained hunched on the ground, mumbling to herself.


    A female officer approached and gently tapped her shoulder. “Ma’am?”


    “Don’t touch me!” Yvonne recoiled violently, fear etched across her face as she looked up at the officer and scrambled away.


    The officer sighed softly, while Margie’s worry deepened.


    She rushed to Yvonne’s side. “Yvonne, hey. Hey. Yvonne? Are you okay? Can you hear me? It’s me, Margie.”


    Margie held out a hand, her expression etched with concern.


    Yvonne stared nkly at her for a few seconds before blinking and forcing a faint smile. Still, her eyes were ssy, and herplexion was pale as a sheet.


    Margie’s heart ached at the sight. She had never seen her friend look so defeated.


    Margie spoke to the police and gave her statement, then returned to Yvonne’s side tofort her and keep herpany.


    Slowly but surely, Yvonne came back to the present. She forced another weak smile and said, “Thank you, Margie.”


    Margie shook her head. “My pleasure. Why don’t you head home for today? I’ll talk to Mr. Marsh and file for a leave of absence on your behalf.”


    Yvonne nodded, saying nothing more as she walked to the curb and took a cab home.


    She arrived like a shadow of herself, dragging her feet upstairs and into the master bedroom. She pulled the drapes closed, burrowed under the covers, and curled into a fetal position.


    The tears came again, harder than before. She trembled as the sobs wracked her body. Exhaustion eventually overtook her, pulling her into a fitful sleep.


    Meanwhile, in another city, Norton had just stepped out of a meeting when he overheard the receptionists whispering in front of the television in the lobby.


    “Who knew the magazine industry could actually be so messy?”


    “Exactly. I guess there’s a dark side to every industry. This one is particrly terrifying, though—they almost had a stampede on their hands.”


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    “But if you ask me, I honestly think people like that deserve all the hate. I can’t stand it when someone uses shady dealings to get ahead.”


    Norton’s ears pricked up at the mention of the magazine industry, and as the conversation continued, his gaze shifted to the news on the screen.


    An anchor faced the camera, giving a live report. “Breaking updates from Amberfield. Miss Jimenez has be the target of online harassment, but things escted today when a mob gathered to express public outrage outside Stylist Magazine’s headquarters. Thankfully, authorities arrived before the incident evolved into a stampede. Awrigend News would like to take this opportunity to remind the public to avoid gathering inrge crowds to prevent simr incidents.”


    Norton froze as he processed what he had just heard. His brows drew into a deep scowl, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits.


    Beside him, Leif followed the direction of his gaze and gasped. “Isn’t that your wife?”


    Norton swallowed the lump in his throat as the news footage reyed—Yvonne being shoved to the ground by a hostile mob. A burning rage surged within him, and his hands clenched into fists.


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