The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 914

This girl had been with him since his debut. She had poured her heart into boosting his metrics, and his very first viral breakout performance was all thanks to a fan-edit she had meticulously crafted. He remembered her clearly.

She wrote: "Five years of my youth. All my love, all my protection... entirely wasted. Clive, it's not just your body that's sick. Your soul is rotten to the core. Goodbye. Actually, no. I hope I never see your face again."

Compared to the vicious death threats from the other major fan accounts, her words were practically gentle.

But it was exactly that raw, unfiltered heartbreak that dealt the most devastating blow.

"Rotten to the core..."

"Entirely wasted..."

"Never see your face again..."

The phrases spun wildly in his mind, growing louder and louder.

So it really only took a single second to plummet from the heavens straight into the dirt.

That one post was the final push that shattered him.

It was over.

Everything was gone. His family, his career, his future...

The glaring comments were too much to bear. Blinded by rage, Clive hurled his phone at the wall. The screen shattered on impact, mirroring the splintered ruins of his life.

Smash!

The phone bounced off the wall and hit the carpet with a dull thud. The glass was spiderwebbed, catching the dim room's light in sharp, jagged reflections.

Finally, the world went quiet.

The room fell into a deathly stillness. Clive curled up in the suffocating darkness, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, burying his face in his arms.

The violent outburst felt good for exactly one second, but the regret hit him like a freight train.

He instantly realized how stupid he'd been. He was practically broke, and now he had to buy a new phone.

Trembling, he relied on muscle memory to dial the number he knew by heart.

But the voice that greeted him wasn't Winifred's confident purr. It was the sterile, automated tone of the carrier: "The subscriber you dialed is powered off."

Powered off?

Right...

That bitch had obviously blocked him.

He couldn't reach her even if he begged.

Refusing to give up, Clive dug deep. Back when he was trailing behind Winifred at those exclusive parties, he had mingled with other powerful women in her orbit.

He found the private number of another wealthy socialite who had shown him an extreme amount of "generosity."

This time, the call went through. After an agonizingly long ring, a cold, guarded male voice answered: "Who is this?"