No Divorce? The Billionaire's Love Chase! novel Chapter 422

Oliver glanced around cautiously and lowered his voice. "Miss Watkins, you know that Mr. Cyrus is a man of his word. Please don't ask me any more questions. My only duty is to escort you home. I know nothing else."

Claudia stared at Oliver for a moment, then took out her phone. "Oliver, let's exchange contact information. If you need anything, you can call me anytime. If Mr. Cyrus gets angry, you can put all the blame on me."

After they exchanged numbers, Claudia got into her car, her mind troubled.

If her guess was correct, Cyrus was injured.

He refused to let her treat him because he was afraid she'd discover his wounds.

What kind of injury would he need to hide even from her?

A storm of terrible thoughts suddenly swirled in her mind.

But no matter what, Cyrus had always been good to her. If he needed her, she wouldn't stand by and do nothing.

On the way back, Claudia received a call from Darleen, asking her to come to The Imperial Club.

As Claudia reached the staircase on the first floor, she saw York descending from above, surrounded by a group of people.

His commanding height, sharp suit, and cold, noble aura made him stand out in the crowd.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before Claudia stepped back to clear the path.

York dismissed the people around him and continued down the stairs.

He stopped in front of her, his voice deep. "What are you doing here so late?"

Claudia glanced at him but said nothing, simply walking around him and heading upstairs.

York turned to watch her overly cold retreat, a suffocating tightness seizing his heart, as if a rope were cinched around it.

She saw him, and she couldn't even be bothered to say a single word.

A few minutes later, Mark hurried over. "Mr. Ferguson, don't worry. Miss Watkins is with Miss Ferguson. Mr. Peter is there as well."

Only after learning that Claudia was with Peter and Darleen did York feel relieved enough to leave.

—

York stumbled into the master bathroom and stood under the cold spray for over ten minutes, but his mind refused to calm down.

Wearing nothing but a white bathrobe, he stood before the vanity.

Claudia's rinse cup was still there. Her face towel was barely used.

York reached out, picked up the black hair tie she had left on the counter, and clenched it in his fist.

He gripped the edge of the counter, staring at his reflection in the mirror, his mind filled with indelible images of Claudia.

"York, I had these matching cups custom-made. You have to use yours."

He'd refused to use the matching cups she'd bought.

Disappointment filled her eyes, but she had smiled and cozied up to him, trying to coax him.

When he refused again, she'd pouted, her eyes welling up as she told him she was angry.

And he hadn't comforted her.