HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 287

Chapter 287

That morning, the front courtyard of the SunCity police station was unusually quiet. Most officers hadn’t even arrived yet. Dew still clung to the leaves; the crisp air laced with the faint scent of damp asphalt.

But the calm shattered when a panicked shout tore through the silence.

“Quick! Someone’s collapsed at the front gate!”

Several officers sprinted outside. A middle-aged man lay sprawled on the ground, wearing nothing but shorts. His face was swollen, lips split, dried blood crusted along his temple. His chest was mottled with bruises. A scrap of paper had been taped to his chest:

“Hit-and-run perpetrator.”

“Oh my God…” one of the officers muttered, covering his mouth. “Call an ambulance, now!”

Another officer crouched closer, his eyes widening as recognition set in. He stared hard at the battered man lying before their station.

“No way… this-this is Harold! The former mayor of SunCity!”

Chaos erupted instantly.

“Get him inside!”

“Call the medics now!”

As Harold’s battered body was lifted, another officer spotted a cardboard box dumped beside him. He opened it -and froze.

“Sir… these are… documents. Reports of illegal transfers, photos of secret meetings, forged contracts. All of it- under Harold’s name.”

Before anyone could even process the discovery, the whir of shutters cut through the air. Cars screeched to a halt outside, and within seconds, a flood of journalists stormed the gate, cameras flashing, microphones thrust

forward.

“There! It’s Harold—the fugitive mayor!”

“Get his picture! Film everything!”

“Is he unconscious? What happened to him?”

None of them seemed to care about Harold’s condition. What mattered was the story-Harold’s sudden

reappearance after weeks on the run. His disappearance, the corruption rumors, whispers of embezzlement and damning evidence linked to the SunCity mayor’s office-it had all been headline fuel.

And now, Harold had been found like this.

SunCity was about to erupt.

The cameras fired mercilessly, blinding in their intensity.

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“Mr. Harold, is this really you?”

“How did you end up at the police station in this state?”

“Is it true you were involved in a hit-and-run? Or is this proof of your criminal dealings?”

Half-conscious, Harold raised a trembling hand to shield his bruised face. Memories slammed into him in jagged fragments-the stifling darkness of a locked room, the air thick and foul. Blows raining down on him, fists and boots striking without warning.

He hadn’t even managed to sit upright, hadn’t taken a full breath, before he’d been hauled up again. The only thing he remembered after that was the endless motion of a car. His eyes had been bound tightly, leaving him blind to where he was being taken.

Now, every muscle screamed in pain. His head throbbed, his skin burned raw against the cold air. And he was nearly naked, stripped of everything but a pair of shorts.

Humiliation seared hotter than the bruises. Who dared to disgrace him like this? Who dared to lay hands on him?

Harold’s fury burned beneath the haze of pain. He wouldn’t let this go.

Yes-Cale Miller. No, not just him-the Miller brothers. He was sure they were behind this.

“Mr. Harold!” a reporter shouted, shoving forward. “Is it true the box found beside you contains evidence of crimes you tried to destroy?”

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