Chapter 27: His Future Wife
Steven’s heart was pierced with raw jealousy.
Wendy had once loved only him–yet now, another man stood at her side.
How could he swallow this humiliation? Impossible!
He refused to believe it.
Wendy must still care for him. She couldn’t just throw away all the years they had shared.
His gaze hardened. He typed a message and hit send:
“Do something for me.”
After work that evening, Wendy and Victoria went to a small tavern nearby.
She’d been suffocating for days–one night of drinks wouldn’t hurt.
As she sipped, a message popped up from Harry.
“The court has withdrawn the charges against Queenie.”
Of course–Steven’s handiwork.
He had always branded Wendy as malicious, but when Queenie showed her venom, he didn’t believe a word.
Love blinded him so completely that morality and principle meant nothing–so long as it was Queenie.
Wendy laughed bitterly into her glass.
A few drinks in, her vision blurred. She counted on her fingers.
Nineteen days left.
In nineteen days, the divorce certificate would be finalized. Then she’d never again be bound to Steven or his lot.
“Strange… doesn’t that man’s back look just like Mr. Robinson’s? But he’s such a big shot–why would he be here in a tavern like this?”
Victoria’s whisper made Wendy turn her head.
Indeed, several men in black were dragging a figure outside. For a fleeting moment, his back looked eerily like Harry’s.
But it was only a glimpse. After all, hadn’t he just texted her moments ago?
Still uneasy, Wendy typed quickly:
“Mr. Robinson, are you still at the hospital?”
The screen showed typing… but no reply came.
Her heart clenched. That man she’d glimpsed–could it really have been Harry? And had he collapsed?
“No… I need to check.”
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My Ex Called Me the Help, Now I’m Untouchable
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Chapter 27: His Future Wife
“Victoria, head home first. Don’t wait for me.”
Wendy darted out into the night.
Scanning the street, she spotted shadows slipping into a dark alley. Their movements were furtive, dangerous.
She followed.
“…This man’s the heir of Miami. Do we really dare touch him? If we’re caught, we’re dead.”
“We’ll be dead now if we disobey. Hurry, give me the vial.”
One thug pulled out a syringe. Under the moonlight, Wendy’s breath caught.
The man lying bloodied on the ground–pale, barely breathing–was indeed Harry.
No wonder he hadn’t answered. He was unconscious.
Wendy’s instincts screamed at her to rush in, but reason held her back.
She couldn’t fight them head–on. She needed her wits.
One man crouched, pressing the needle to Harry’s skin.
No!
Wendy’s voice rang out, sharp and loud.
“Police! They’re here!”
She triggered her phone, and a siren blared.
The men froze, startled, then fled in panic, leaving syringe and prey behind.
Wendy rushed to Harry’s side, yanking the needle free.
Her eyes widened–the vial contained hydrogen cyanide.
If they’d injected even a drop, he would’ve been dead in seconds.
She shivered. She had always known the feuds of the wealthy were deadly–but now she had seen it firsthand.
She called an ambulance, sending Harry to her hospital. Only when his wounds were dressed did she finally let out a shaky breath.
That night, Wendy refused to leave his bedside.
By morning, sunlight spilled across the room. Harry stirred, eyelids fluttering open. He was still pale, weak, but alive.
As he shifted to sit up, he realized something warm weighed on his arm.
Wendy, asleep, cheek resting lightly against him.
Soft light caressed her face, her features gentle, serene.
Harry’s lips curved. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, eyes tender.
The scene he had long imagined was now real.
“Mr. Robinson!”
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My Ex Called Me the Help, Now I’m Untouchable
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Chapter 27: His Future Wife
The door burst open.
Wendy startled awake, jerking upright. Her eyes landed on his, lighting with relief. She grasped his hand without thinking.
“You’re awake! Are you all right?”
He glanced at their joined hands, a smile flickering.
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
Only then did Wendy realize her boldness, hastily withdrawing.
Harry’s gaze sharpened at the interruption, displeasure flashing.
“What did you find?”
His aide bowed.
“Sir, the group that attacked you was linked to Steven. Another faction may have been sent from Miami.”
Harry chuckled coldly.
“They must think very highly of me.”
At Steven’s name, Wendy’s blood chilled.
Of course–because of her. Steven was targeting Harry to punish her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, guilt heavy. “This is my fault. I dragged you into this.”
Harry leaned closer, ruffling her hair, his voice low, deliberate.
“How could I ever blame my future wife?”
His breath brushed her skin, intimate, teasing. Wendy’s cheeks flushed. She instinctively pulled back.
“No matter what, I owe you. If I don’t make it up to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
He lounged back, eyes glimmering with amusement.
“Then… would Doctor Ulrich cook for me while I recover?”
“Of course!”
Without hesitation, she sprang up.
“I’ll make breakfast right now!”
She dashed from the room.
Harry watched her fleeing figure, lips curling wider.
So–even in front of him, she could still blush.
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