Mission: From Divorcee to Millionaire

Chapter 392

When Selena came to, she found herself sprawled on the big bed in her bedroom, the night outside already thick and heavy. A needle was poked into the back of her hand, slowly dripping an IV into her system.

She blinked at the IV bag hanging above her, her mind slowly clearing the fog away. Her eyes, dark and unyielding, shifted and settled on the man lounging on the sofa across the room.

Everett, in his crisp black shirt and trousers, was as dashing as ever, his profile even more sharply defined, exuding an aura that screamed 'stay away.'

He had a Bluetooth headset on and a laptop open on the coffee table, clearly in the middle of a video call, with a pile of documents strewn about him. Selena watched him quietly.

To be honest, the Everett of today was mature, charming, and loaded. He had that magnetic aura that could draw any woman in like bees to honey.

But... he was fading in her mind, becoming more and more a shadow of the boy she once knew.

That boy, though equally moody and proud, had a heart that craved warmth, love, and believed in it too.

Now, he was controlling, even obsessive. His biggest issue? He didn't believe in love anymore, even scoffed at it. He refused to give any love but demanded hers in exchange, expecting her to stick by him without complaint, loyal as ever. It was downright despicable and absurd!

Sensing her eyes on him, Everett gave her a brief glance before wrapping up his meeting with a few terse words.

glasses, rubbing his temples before striding over

his voice neutral, "The doc said you passed out from low blood sugar and stress. They've got you on a nutrient drip. You need to eat properly and rest up,

spiraling again, just when she had started to

help but suspect he was doing

away, she refused to even

dragged a chair over with a soft scrape and sat down, crossing his legs with an

juggling too much lately, feeling on edge, and her cold, silent defiance was only adding fuel to

sweet-talk her, opting instead for words that would hit where

your beloved uncle and brother to have

been

joining. He's sharp and diligent, could really make a name for himself if he keeps at it. But wouldn't it be a

"Everett!"

shot upright, glaring daggers at him.

down

fury

inside her, "You keep your hands