The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 894

The massive disparity in strength made his struggles look entirely pathetic.

The bodyguards' arms were like steel vices, trapping him instantly. Clive thrashed and roared like a cornered animal, kicking wildly at the floor, but they dragged him backward without breaking a sweat. His feet barely brushed the ground as they hauled him toward the front doors.

The expensive rug snagged under his shoes, leaving a messy trail of his humiliation.

Winifred watched the spectacle from her pedestal, thoroughly amused by his desperation.

Just as they dragged him into the foyer, a second away from tossing him out into the cold, she seemed to remember something. Strolling over to the entryway console, she picked up an exquisite crocodile-skin clutch.

She unhurriedly pulled out several crisp hundred-dollar bills, twirling them between her manicured fingers as if she were teasing a stray dog.

"Look at you. Absolutely pathetic."

"We can't have you walking out of here looking like this. People might actually think I mistreated you."

Her red lips curved into a wicked smirk. Her perfectly lined eyes swept over his restrained body, dancing with dark amusement.

"Consider this a tip for your past services."

"Use it for a cab. God forbid you walk out of here and infect the neighborhood." Her voice was soaked in venomous sweetness. "With the way your body is giving out... I doubt you'd make it very far anyway."

She threw her head back and laughed. With a flick of her wrist, the bills fluttered through the air, raining down onto the floor right in front of him.

Clive stared intensely at the cash scattered at his feet, but he didn't move a muscle to pick it up. The sheer humiliation of the gesture was suffocating, and he wasn't quite desperate enough to crawl for it.

The sound completely pulverized his last pathetic shred of hope, taking his remaining dignity with it.

The cool autumn evening breeze carried a biting chill. It whipped through his thin clothes, sending violent shivers down his spine.

He stood frozen, feeling as though his soul had been sucked out of his body. All he could do was stare at the bright bills scattered on the stone steps. They felt like physical slaps across his face.

Humiliation, fury, despair, and self-loathing crashed over him in suffocating waves. Trembling uncontrollably, he whipped around, his bloodshot eyes glaring at the locked iron gates.

Once upon a time, those gates had welcomed him into a world of endless wealth and luxury. Now, they shut him out into the freezing dark.

His head pounded, his temples throbbing with blinding rage.