Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son - Chapter 76: Chapter 76
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"Do you have an investigation warrant?" Quinn's voice was icy as he addressed the two police officers.
The officers hesitated before one of them, who appeared to recognize him, adopted a more forceful tone. "Mr. Madden, we have the authority to demand the suspect's cooperation in this investigation."
"Suspect?" Quinn's voice grew chillingly sinister. He let out a cold laugh. "If your paperwork isn't in order, I'm afraid she won't be going anywhere with you. If there's a problem, contact my lawyer directly."
With that, Quinn took my hand and led me out of the hospital swiftly. He started the car, and as the hospital faded into the distance in the rearview mirror, I heaved a sigh of relief.
"What's going on?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I shook my head, still baffled as to why Jenna had been injected with drugs. Who could have done it?
"It wasn't me," I said wearily.
"I know," Quin replied plainly.
I turned to look at him in surprise. Did he actually believe me?
"Someone's after you," Quinn continued after a pause. "If the real culprit isn't found, even if you're not convicted, everyone will believe you tried to harm your mother. Think about it—who benefits the most from that outcome?"
His words sent a chill down my spine as I recalled the cryptic remarks Skylar had made earlier. Could Skylar have injected Jenna with the drugs? But where would she even get them?
Jenna was her biological mother, someone who loved her deeply. What reason could she possibly have had to do something so cruel?
My thoughts spiraled in confusion, but I managed to pull myself together and murmured, "Thank you for helping me back there."
Quinn didn't even look at me, merely snorting in response. As the car came to a stop, he said flatly, "Get out."
Only then did I realize that we were back at my apartment building. Quinn turned off the engine and got out ahead of me, striding toward the entrance as if he lived there.
"Are you coming up?" I blurted.
He turned around and looked at me, his eyes inscrutable. "What time is it?"
"Huh?" I didn't understand where he was going with this, but I checked my phone. "Five-thirty."
He narrowed his eyes, his voice husky. "No wonder I'm hungry."
I was speechless. When did he start being so vague? If he wanted me to cook, he could have just said so.
Since I owed him a favor for what he had done for me, I headed into the kitchen once we were inside the apartment.
I prepared two dishes and was about to cook the vegetables when the stove suddenly stopped working. I called building maintenance, and soon a repairman arrived with a staff member from the property management office.
After inspecting the stove, they concluded the problem was a dead battery. Once the battery was replaced, the staff member handed an iPad to Quinn. "Mr. Madden, please rate our service," he said enthusiastically.
"I'll do it." Before he could respond, I quickly stepped in, taking the tablet and giving it a perfect score. I couldn't help but grumble internally—why did they assume he was the tenant? I had been living here long enough for them to know better.
Wait. How did they know him? I wondered as I submitted the form. Then I saw it—the screen flashed with the owner's information: Unit 32-1, Quinn Madden.
I froze. This apartment belonged to him? But Rose had been the one who let me stay here.
After the staff left, I stared at Quinn, my eyes wide with disbelief. "Care to explain?"
He glanced at me and said nonchalantly, "If you were homeless, it would embarrass me."
His words were infuriating. What did my situation have to do with him?
Furrowing my brow, I spat, "I'm just your ex-wife, Mr. Madden. Don't you think you're overstepping?"
"Natalia," he said, towering over me, his eyes narrowing. "You need to learn to give in."
I sneered and raised my head, glaring at him. "Give in? What do you expect? Should I cry and thank you profusely, or grovel and ask how I can repay you?"
For three years, I had bent over backward to please him. Three years of submission had earned me nothing but divorce. And now he was asking for more?
Quinn's face darkened with a deep frown.
Bitterness rose inside me, but I held it in and turned away. "Thank you for your generosity, but I'll move out as soon as possible. I'll also transfer the rent for the time I've stayed here." I didn't need his pity, nor did I want his charity.
Determined to repay him for helping me earlier, I headed back to the kitchen. But before I could take another step, Quinn gripped my arm, and in one swift motion, he had me pinned against the wall.
"Would you do whatever I asked?" he questioned, his deep-set eyes boring into mine.
Leaning in, his lips brushed against my ear as he whispered hoarsely, "I just want our child back."
I was stunned. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, his body warm against mine, his breathing heavy.
"Quinn..." I tried to break free.
He tightened his grip and held me tightly in his embrace, his tone unyielding. "Let's have another child, Natalia."
Before I could respond, he pressed his lips onto mine. His kiss was intense and fervent, leaving me breathless.
Shocked and furious, I shoved him away. "You're insane," I yelled.
"I am," he shot back, his eyes held a mix of emotions.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of heat and intensity. Physically and emotionally drained, I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone.
What did he take me for? Was I a servant at his beck and call, or a possession for him to claim? My mind was a whirlwind of anger and frustration.
I thought the divorce would set me free from Quinn and allow me to rediscover myself. Instead, he seemed determined to torment me. First, it was that divorce agreement, which tied me to working for him for three years. And now...
I hadn't earned his affection, couldn't pry into his mind, and had no clue what he truly wanted.
When I woke up the next day, I couldn't shake the urge to see Benedict.
The rush hour in the morning had just passed, and there were fewer cars on the road. The drive out of the city was peaceful, the green hills and clear skies a pleasant distraction. Rolling down the window and slowing the car, I breathed in the crisp, fresh air.
But my calm was short-lived. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I noticed a black car trailing behind, matching my speed and maintaining a steady distance from me.
A sense of foreboding settled over me—was I being followed?
The officers hesitated before one of them, who appeared to recognize him, adopted a more forceful tone. "Mr. Madden, we have the authority to demand the suspect's cooperation in this investigation."
"Suspect?" Quinn's voice grew chillingly sinister. He let out a cold laugh. "If your paperwork isn't in order, I'm afraid she won't be going anywhere with you. If there's a problem, contact my lawyer directly."
With that, Quinn took my hand and led me out of the hospital swiftly. He started the car, and as the hospital faded into the distance in the rearview mirror, I heaved a sigh of relief.
"What's going on?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I shook my head, still baffled as to why Jenna had been injected with drugs. Who could have done it?
"It wasn't me," I said wearily.
"I know," Quin replied plainly.
I turned to look at him in surprise. Did he actually believe me?
"Someone's after you," Quinn continued after a pause. "If the real culprit isn't found, even if you're not convicted, everyone will believe you tried to harm your mother. Think about it—who benefits the most from that outcome?"
His words sent a chill down my spine as I recalled the cryptic remarks Skylar had made earlier. Could Skylar have injected Jenna with the drugs? But where would she even get them?
Jenna was her biological mother, someone who loved her deeply. What reason could she possibly have had to do something so cruel?
My thoughts spiraled in confusion, but I managed to pull myself together and murmured, "Thank you for helping me back there."
Quinn didn't even look at me, merely snorting in response. As the car came to a stop, he said flatly, "Get out."
Only then did I realize that we were back at my apartment building. Quinn turned off the engine and got out ahead of me, striding toward the entrance as if he lived there.
"Are you coming up?" I blurted.
He turned around and looked at me, his eyes inscrutable. "What time is it?"
"Huh?" I didn't understand where he was going with this, but I checked my phone. "Five-thirty."
He narrowed his eyes, his voice husky. "No wonder I'm hungry."
I was speechless. When did he start being so vague? If he wanted me to cook, he could have just said so.
Since I owed him a favor for what he had done for me, I headed into the kitchen once we were inside the apartment.
I prepared two dishes and was about to cook the vegetables when the stove suddenly stopped working. I called building maintenance, and soon a repairman arrived with a staff member from the property management office.
After inspecting the stove, they concluded the problem was a dead battery. Once the battery was replaced, the staff member handed an iPad to Quinn. "Mr. Madden, please rate our service," he said enthusiastically.
"I'll do it." Before he could respond, I quickly stepped in, taking the tablet and giving it a perfect score. I couldn't help but grumble internally—why did they assume he was the tenant? I had been living here long enough for them to know better.
Wait. How did they know him? I wondered as I submitted the form. Then I saw it—the screen flashed with the owner's information: Unit 32-1, Quinn Madden.
I froze. This apartment belonged to him? But Rose had been the one who let me stay here.
After the staff left, I stared at Quinn, my eyes wide with disbelief. "Care to explain?"
He glanced at me and said nonchalantly, "If you were homeless, it would embarrass me."
His words were infuriating. What did my situation have to do with him?
Furrowing my brow, I spat, "I'm just your ex-wife, Mr. Madden. Don't you think you're overstepping?"
"Natalia," he said, towering over me, his eyes narrowing. "You need to learn to give in."
I sneered and raised my head, glaring at him. "Give in? What do you expect? Should I cry and thank you profusely, or grovel and ask how I can repay you?"
For three years, I had bent over backward to please him. Three years of submission had earned me nothing but divorce. And now he was asking for more?
Quinn's face darkened with a deep frown.
Bitterness rose inside me, but I held it in and turned away. "Thank you for your generosity, but I'll move out as soon as possible. I'll also transfer the rent for the time I've stayed here." I didn't need his pity, nor did I want his charity.
Determined to repay him for helping me earlier, I headed back to the kitchen. But before I could take another step, Quinn gripped my arm, and in one swift motion, he had me pinned against the wall.
"Would you do whatever I asked?" he questioned, his deep-set eyes boring into mine.
Leaning in, his lips brushed against my ear as he whispered hoarsely, "I just want our child back."
I was stunned. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, his body warm against mine, his breathing heavy.
"Quinn..." I tried to break free.
He tightened his grip and held me tightly in his embrace, his tone unyielding. "Let's have another child, Natalia."
Before I could respond, he pressed his lips onto mine. His kiss was intense and fervent, leaving me breathless.
Shocked and furious, I shoved him away. "You're insane," I yelled.
"I am," he shot back, his eyes held a mix of emotions.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of heat and intensity. Physically and emotionally drained, I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone.
What did he take me for? Was I a servant at his beck and call, or a possession for him to claim? My mind was a whirlwind of anger and frustration.
I thought the divorce would set me free from Quinn and allow me to rediscover myself. Instead, he seemed determined to torment me. First, it was that divorce agreement, which tied me to working for him for three years. And now...
I hadn't earned his affection, couldn't pry into his mind, and had no clue what he truly wanted.
When I woke up the next day, I couldn't shake the urge to see Benedict.
The rush hour in the morning had just passed, and there were fewer cars on the road. The drive out of the city was peaceful, the green hills and clear skies a pleasant distraction. Rolling down the window and slowing the car, I breathed in the crisp, fresh air.
But my calm was short-lived. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I noticed a black car trailing behind, matching my speed and maintaining a steady distance from me.
A sense of foreboding settled over me—was I being followed?
End of Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son Chapter 76. Continue reading Chapter 77 or return to Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son book page.