Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 32

"Heh." A low, ambiguous chuckle rolled from Pierce's throat, a dark gleam flashing in his eyes. "You have guts, Phoenix."

He crumpled the agreement in his grip, his long legs striding forward. Carrying a chilling momentum, he brushed past her and walked straight toward the entrance, dropping a single command. "Keep up."

---

Ten minutes later.

The sunlight fell rather harshly on the brand-new marriage certificates.

The two walked out side by side. Phoenix flipped through the document with interest, studying the photo of his cold face next to her fake smile. Suddenly, she leaned in, her warm breath brushing faintly against his tightly pursed lips.

"Husband?" She dragged the word out, perfectly blending laziness with a probing edge. "From now on..."

She paused deliberately, letting the last syllable linger. "I look forward to your guidance."

Pierce came to a dead halt. An explosive aura of ice erupted around him.

He turned his head, locking her in a bottomless, freezing stare. "Did you sign that agreement into thin air?"

His voice was low, every word coated in warning shards of ice. "Remember your place, Phoenix. Overplay your hand, and you will find yourself in hell."

"Don't worry, Pierce." Phoenix's smile remained unchanged. She even took a step closer, her cool fingertips lightly brushing an imaginary crease from his collar. The gesture was familiar yet carried a strictly business-like distance. "The title of Mrs. Sterling is nothing but a stepping stone."

She looked up, her eyes clear with a cold, almost cruel rationality. "Once it opens the doors I need and its value is entirely drained..."

She pulled her hand back and took a clean step away.

"I will vanish completely, without a single trace."

Pierce looked at her crystal-clear but firmly frozen eyes, feeling an inexplicable tightness in his chest.

Had four years in prison truly forged her into a cold, emotionless blade?

"I am leaving." She turned sharply, her seaweed-like hair drawing a dazzling arc in the sunlight as she stepped into a flashy purple Lamborghini.

The engine roared, tearing through the air as the car sped off arrogantly.

The little red booklet under his thumb felt alarmingly hot. Pierce furrowed his brow, staring in the direction her car had vanished, unmoving for a long time.

The vibration of his phone pulled his consciousness back.

The screen clearly displayed: Arthur Sterling.

"Arthur."

He walked forward, every step feeling like it trampled on a heartbeat, a completely emotionless curve forming on his lips. "If you have some grand advice, why not instruct me to my face? Why bother Arthur?"

He leaned in, looking down from a position of absolute superiority. "Or do you feel I have sat in this chair for too long, and you want to try it out yourself?"

The muscles in Silas's face twitched violently as he struggled to maintain his dignity. "You are overreacting, Pierce! Everyone sees your contributions. I merely wanted to share the burden in critical moments..."

"Share the burden?" Pierce chuckled, a sound that chilled to the bone. "I think you do a fine job sharing the burden by pouring tea and working on your patience right here."

"You—!" Silas's face flushed crimson, the humiliation piercing him to the bone.

"Pierce!" Arthur interrupted with a heavy tone, tapping his finger against the table. "Silas simply cares too much. Sit down."

Suppressing his towering rage, Silas stood up abruptly. "Arthur, I have an urgent meeting at the company. Excuse me."

His retreating figure looked panicked and utterly pathetic.

Pierce's gaze tracked the man until he disappeared out the door, his eyes filled with piercing cold.

Every piece of evidence Yancy had tracked down pointed clearly to Silas being the mastermind behind the car crash that killed his mother.

Unfortunately, the old fox had covered his tracks flawlessly, leaving Pierce without concrete proof.