Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 347

Shortly after Warren left, Phoenix dialed Eustace's number.

"Make the arrangements. I need to see Yara."

The person on the other end paused noticeably. After a brief silence, Eustace's respectful voice came through. "Understood. I'll get it done."

Meanwhile, in the CEO's office at Prescott Group, Alistair was anxiously waiting for news.

When he saw Warren push the door open, looking completely utterly devastated, Alistair's heart dropped, and a strong wave of dread washed over him.

"Well? Did Phoenix agree?"

Warren looked up blankly. "She refused."

"Why would she refuse?" Alistair frowned deeply, his tone turning severe. "Were you not sincere enough? Warren, she's your biological daughter. Would it kill you to swallow your pride and say a few soft words?"

"The company is on the brink of death! Only Phoenix can stabilize this mess!"

"Heh..." Warren let out a hollow, bitter laugh, his eyes bloodshot. "I wasn't humble enough? I stripped myself of my dignity and groveled like a dog! What more do you want from me?! Do you want me to slit my throat to apologize?!"

Alistair froze instantly.

Warren's hysterical screaming hit him like a thunderclap, leaving him stunned for a long time.

He knew his son too well. Warren was deeply arrogant and valued his pride over his own life.

For him to humiliate himself before his own daughter just to save the company... it must have been a fate worse than death.

Alistair leaned on his cane and walked over to Warren. A thousand words eventually dissolved into a heavy sigh. He didn't say anything, merely patted his son hard on the shoulder before turning and walking out of the office.

His hunched back looked incredibly lonely. With things as they were, there was only one path left—he would have to sacrifice his own pride and go beg Phoenix himself.

Blackwood Penitentiary.

In the cold, dim corner of a cell, a woman with disheveled hair and a face covered in blood lay slumped on the ground like a pile of mud.

If her chest wasn't rising and falling weakly, she would look like a corpse. Yet, even though she had been tortured to the brink of death, there was no pity in the eyes of her cellmates.

"This Phoebe actually has a pretty tough spine," Anya scoffed coldly, spitting on the floor. "But she's still just a punching bag. When Phoenix came in back then, she bit back like a feral wolf."

A hint of nostalgia flickered in Anya's single eye as her rough thumb absentmindedly traced an old, deep scar on her right wrist.

The scar was shaped exactly like a set of teeth.

Just then, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. A guard stopped outside the iron bars and tapped them firmly with a baton.

The rhythmic tapping made Anya's face shift. She instinctively turned to look with deep reverence at the slender figure sitting quietly at the very back of the cell.

"Yara, Phoenix is here to see you."

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