Chapter <b>27 </b>
At Aetherton Airport.
Wesley didn’t see the person he was waiting for at the VIP exit. His lips were pressed into a straight line, and he looked pretty unhappy.
Standing beside him, Larissa looked over with a hint of confusion. “What’s wrong<b>?</b><b>” </b>
Everett whispered, “Mrs. Carlton promised to pick Mr. Carlton up, but she didn’t show up.”
Larissa was a bit surprised, an uneasy feeling creeping up inside her. Was Wesley actually upset that Prisci didn’te to pick him up?
On the way back to thepany, Wesley couldn’t help but text Prisci. They had agreed to talk, so why didn’t shee?
Soon, Prisci replied: “At the police station ”
Wesley frowned and told the driver, “To the police station.”
At the police station, Prisci sat on the couch, her ankle swollen badly. Her long hair hung loosely over her shoulders, messy and disheveled. She looked far fromposed.
Corrine had exined everything to the police, and there was security camera footage to back it up. They had also found the person who pushed Prisci.
The police were trying to mediate, but Prisci refused. She <b>wanted </b>to
sue the person for spreading rumors and for hurting her on <b>purpose</b>.
The reporter, clearly agitated, mmed his phone down on the table. “I didn’t make anything up!”
He opened a video on the screen.
In it. Wesley and Larissa walked into a hotel arm in arm. Even worse, when Larissa tripped on something. Wesley picked her up in his arms.
Even through the screen, the intimate chemistry between them was unmistakable.
“This is the proof? I didn’t spread any rumors!” the reporter said. waving his hands around. He didn’t ept the usation.
“How shameless!” Corrine muttered under her breath, ncing at Prisci in concern.
Prisci’s face was pale, and her eyes were red, though she had looked
away
She had prepared herself over and over for the fact that Wesley and Larissa were childhood friends, convincing herself she needed to ept it.
They were getting divorced anyway.
But when she saw it with her own eyes, the pain ripped through her chest like a knife.
That same man had kissed her so gently and promised to bring her a gift. It was all too ridiculous.
The reporter’s eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. “Mrs. Carlton, you should be thanking me. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in the dark about your husband’s affair, wouldn’t you?
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“Oh, and the mistress happens to be your own sister!”
“Shut up!” Prisci snapped, her face ice–cold. No matter how intimate. Wesley and Latissa had been behind her back, it wasn’t this outsider’s ce to mock her, especially not someone who clearly had his own agenda.
She was about to say more when the door to the mediation room
swung open.
She looked up and saw Wesley, weary and travel–worn
His suit jacket was draped over one arm, his face grim. When his <b>eyes </bnded on Prisci, his furrowed brows cased up a bit.
He strode toward her. “Prisci…
But as his gaze flicked to the phone on the table, which was still ying the video, his expression darkened further, a newyer of cold fury clouding his face.
The reporter went quiet as soon as he saw Wesley.
Just a moment ago, he’d been barking at Prisci. Now he looked scared and backed off.
Wesley walked over and stood beside her, his eyes cold as he stared at the reporter. “We’re not settling. We’re pressing charges.”
He already knew what had happened.
And he was ready to go after anyone who hurt Prisci.
The reporter jumped to his feet, then sat back down just as fast. He looked rxed now, like something had just clicked.
He wasn’t trying to defend himself anymore.
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Wesley seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and sneered, <b>“</b>Im not letting this go. Don’t count on anyone showing up to save you.”
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