The Unveiling of Secret Queen

Chapter 541: Chapter 541: A Swift Slap in the Face_1

He watched with his own eyes as Nathalie Quinlan dropped that line and politely and distantly said to him, ”Uncle Sullivan, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be going now. My friends are waiting outside.”

Myles Sullivan’s facial muscles twitched, as he forced out a kind expression and said, ”Hmm, okay.”

Having seen his fair share of the world, he quickly acted as if nothing had happened, picked up the car keys from the table, and stood up, offering, ”Do you want me to take you?”

Nathalie Quinlan felt queasy, raised her hand, pressed down on the brim of her hat, her gaze defiant as she succinctly refused him, ”No need, they’re nearby, I’ll walk over by myself.”

He looked outside, where the main road was bustling with cars, but had no idea which car she referred to, and just watched her pay at the bar and then push the door open to leave the coffee shop.

He had barely sat back down when he irritably picked up his coffee and took a sip.

When he had first been drinking this Blue Mountain coffee, he didn’t think it tasted bitter, but now it felt unbearably harsh on his palate.

Myles Sullivan only took a small sip before putting the cup down, reaching for his phone, flipping through to Juan Wilmar’s number, and hesitating over whether or not to make a phone call to Juan Wilmar to ask if he had clarified the relationship between Nathalie Quinlan and Owen Yapiter.

Long immersed in this circle, he felt at a loss for the first time as if an invisible hand in the darkness was choking them, hitting them right where it hurt, making him somewhat at a loss about how to handle the matter with Jecksen Wilmar.

He was still hesitating.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

Myles Sullivan glanced at the caller ID, furrowing his dense eyebrows, pressed the call button, and answered the phone, ”Hello?”

He had barely uttered a word when he recognized what was being said on the other end, his complexion turned dramatically, he raised his hand to knock over the coffee on the table, his usually pampered face turned livid, and with a face so grim it seemed water would drip from it, he almost clenched teeth, squeezing out the words through gritted teeth, ”What did you say, Jecksen was taken away?”

He had just had Nathalie Quinlan come out to talk, even threatening to target Freddy Cagwin’s family, and then Jecksen was taken away from the hospital.

Myles Sullivan, for the first time in his long life, felt such a face-slap.

Hearing the anxious voice of Ivy Wilmar on the other end of the call, he took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil inside him, hastily grabbed his bag, and said, ”Wait for me, I’ll be right there.”

*

On the road outside the gate of No. 1 Middle School, a Black Huiteng car quietly stood by the roadside.

School had already let out, and there were only a few students passing by sporadically, with one or two casting curious glances at the car as they walked past.

Amadeus Yancey sat in the back seat, his posture lazy, one hand propped on the car window, his deep-set eyes casually looking outside.

Alfred Garland had also rolled down the front car window, stuck his head out to look around, then turned and said to the person in the back seat, ”Amadeus, Miss Quinlan said five minutes, but it’s almost been ten, why hasn’t she come over?”

He was quite worried about Nathalie Quinlan and said with concern, ”Should I give Ms. Quinlan a call and ask where she’s got to?”

”No need. Let’s wait a bit longer.” Amadeus Yancey nonchalantly withdrew his line of sight, took out a pack of cigarettes from the car drawer, his thin lips clamping onto one, bowed his head, and lit it with a lighter.

The sparks of the flame danced on the Marlboro as he lazily took a drag, the long cigarette held between his fingers, his dark and profound eyes like an unfathomable and stormy ocean depth concealing surging waves.

”Did Simon Cadwell get back to you with a message?”