HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 272

“Sir, the officers in charge of Joshua’s accident are here.”

Both Daven and Chase turned at once, their eyes landing on two men in full uniform who had come to deliver the official account of what had happened.

“So… can you tell us what really happened, Officer?” Chase asked, impatience sharp in his tone.

One of the policemen spoke with measured caution. “We questioned the driver. He died at the scene. Preliminary autopsy reports show he suffered a sudden heart attack. The car went out of control while he was behind the wheel. For now, our assessment is that this was purely an accident.”

“So what you’re saying”—Chase’s voice carried the edge of barely restrained fury—“is that this was nothing more than a routine accident?”

The officer nodded, maintaining a formal air. “Yes, Mr. Miller. The driver experienced a sudden heart attack, lost control of the vehicle, and—” he glanced at his notes, “collided with young Mr. Joshua Grayson and his bodyguard. We found no evidence of braking or evasive action. Everything points to total loss of control.”

Daven leaned back in his chair, arms folded tightly across his chest, his expression carved in ice. His blue eyes darkened with calculation. Was that truly the case? Because when he’d watched the CCTV footage—over and over—the car hadn’t just veered off. Its path looked deliberate, as if aimed straight at Josh and Beni. Could that really be dismissed as coincidence?

“And you’re certain,” Daven asked, his voice low and cutting, “there’s no other possibility?”

“We can only report based on preliminary findings, Mr. Callister,” the officer replied carefully. “For the moment, it stands as an accident. But the investigation is ongoing.”

“Good.” Daven leaned forward, his gaze searing into the man. “But don’t you dare rush to close this case. If there’s even the slightest irregularity, I expect to know about it first. Is that understood?”

The two officers exchanged a quick glance before nodding. “Understood, Mr. Callister.”

With a brief salute, they left the room. The door clicked shut, and a heavy silence settled in their wake.

Chase exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath. “Pure accident? What a joke.”

Daven turned his head toward him. “You think so too?”

“Of course. Do you honestly believe their version?” Chase’s gaze stayed fixed ahead, his jaw tight.

Daven’s answer was a firm shake of his head.

“Exactly,” Chase pressed on. “It’s all far too convenient to dismiss as some random accident. Josh ends up the victim, and the driver conveniently dies of a heart attack. I’m not swallowing that.”

The VIP waiting room fell back into silence, broken only by the steady hum of the air conditioner. Even Arsen, who had been standing quietly nearby since the beginning, said nothing. His brow was furrowed; his thoughts tangled in the same question that haunted them all—what had really caused the accident? Was it truly just a heart attack?

Daven tapped his fingers against the small table in front of him. The rapid rhythm betrayed the storm turning in his mind. “For some reason… my gut tells me all of this is connected to Harold.”

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