She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 363

Miles remained entirely unfazed, a dangerous arrogance lingering in his gaze. "Do you honestly think my family is short on cash?"

The Zieglers were incredibly wealthy. He never lacked money. If Rowan hadn't used his overwhelming influence to keep him locked away, Miles would have bailed himself out within three days.

Leaning closer to the glass, Miles let his eyes drag slowly down Lyra's slender figure. His predatory gaze was thick with aggressive greed. "How about you give me the body Rowan has been enjoying instead..."

"Then rot in here," Lyra cut him off, her voice laced with absolute disgust.

Just then, a prison guard stepped into the visiting room. "Miles Ziegler, you have another visitor."

Miles scowled impatiently. "Who the hell is it now?"

"Rowan Jameson."

Miles's brows shot up in surprise. "Well, isn't this a coincidence?"

His eyes gleamed as he instantly pieced the puzzle together. He let out a low, mocking chuckle as he watched the color drain from Lyra's face. "Rowan planted a tracker on you, didn't he?"

Lyra's first instinct was to run, but the steady, authoritative rhythm of footsteps was already echoing down the corridor, sealing off her only exit.

Seeing her panic like a trapped animal, Miles leaned against the cold metal bars, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Want me to make some room for you in my cell? Doesn't look like you've got anywhere else to hide."

The moment the words left his mouth, the footsteps stopped right at the doorway.

Lyra ruthlessly shoved down the suffocating wave of panic rising in her chest. She forced her posture to remain perfectly calm and stood her ground. The heavy iron door swung open, and Rowan stepped into the room. His tall, imposing frame instantly dominated the space. His dark gaze locked onto Lyra immediately. Without a second thought, he closed the distance and casually took her hand. "Why on earth would you come to a place like this?"

Lyra had already prepared her excuse. "I came to ask him why he's going around saying he wants to kill me."

"And?" Rowan asked smoothly. "What was his answer?"

"He said it's because I used to argue with his niece, Yvonne, back in high school. It's really nothing serious."

Standing by the sleek luxury vehicle, Wesley Wade wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he watched Rowan essentially drag Lyra toward the car. Wesley was stressed. Whenever Lyra was in the picture, Wesley had to adopt a bizarre driving dynamic. He was the only official chauffeur, yet it often felt like three people were driving—two in the backseat going at it, while he desperately kept his eyes glued to the road.

Their passion was reckless, completely disregarding anyone else's presence. Frankly, Wesley preferred Jasmine Ford. At least when the boss was with Jasmine, he acted like a normal human being.

This time, however, as Wesley kept his eyes strictly forward and navigated the traffic, a sudden, sharp gasp of pain came from the backseat.

Wesley instinctively glanced in the rearview mirror. "Boss! Are you alright?"

Rowan's jaw was tight, his profile sharp and unforgiving. Several bright red scratch marks trailed aggressively down his neck—clearly Lyra's handiwork.

"I'm fine. Keep your eyes on the road," Rowan replied evenly.

Rubbing his stinging neck, Rowan turned to Lyra, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper. "I have to meet clients later."

Lyra didn't even look at him. "Serves you right."