Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 263

Lionel’s voice came through the phone, shaky and strained, thick with suppressed pain. “I—I feel… terrible…”

A muffled groan followed, raw and pained.

Juliette’s expression changed instantly. “Where are you? Where’s your family doctor? Have you called them yet?”

“Sil—Silvert…” His voice trailed off.

Silverton?!

Juliette’s heart skipped. That’s this place.

“I’m at Silverton too. Which room are you in?” she asked urgently.

Lionel managed to force out a suite number.

“Wait for me. I’ll be right there!”

Juliette hung up, spun on her heel, and nearly collided with Abbey, who was approaching with a cocktail in hand. She grabbed Abbey and pulled her aside, whispering quickly, “Abbey, something urgent just came up. I have to go right now. Please let the others know for me, okay?”

Without waiting for a reply, Juliette hurried over to the sofa, snatched up her purse, and slipped quietly out of the lounge.

Lionel said he was on the 8th floor, room 8806. She was on the 6th.

Juliette hurried to the elevators, heart pounding.

It was a busy hour at Silverton—laughter and music drifted from every floor—but the 8th was a high-rollers’ level, reserved for business elites who came to talk deals and unwind in peace. Despite the opulence, the hallways were hushed, the thick carpeting and soundproofed doors muffling any noise.

She caught an elevator almost at once. No one else was inside.

She found the room easily, following Lionel’s directions.

“Mmm… It hurts…” Lionel’s eyes stayed shut, his brow furrowed in agony. His words were punctuated by a sharp tearing sound.

Juliette jumped. Glancing down, she saw that the already ragged floral shirt had finally given up—torn to shreds by Lionel’s desperate hands.

She jerked her gaze away, silently reciting don’t stare, don’t stare, while addressing the barely-conscious man, “Hang in there, I’m calling 911 right now!”

But a sudden doubt flickered through her mind. Was this really just alcohol? Or had Lionel drunk something he shouldn’t have?

She couldn’t be sure. Lionel was alone in the suite—no sign of anyone else having been there.

Who’d be dumb enough to slip something in his drink and then run off before doing… anything?

Either way—alcohol poisoning, or something worse—calling for help was the only thing to do.