Karma Doesn’t Sleep The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 398

Clive didn’t drive to the office.

As soon as he got in his car, he circled halfway around the restaurant, keeping to the edge of the lot. Right as he turned onto the main road, he spotted the car Amelia had climbed into merging into traffic.

He’d had more than a few drinks tonight. Even with the AC cranked up, he couldn’t shake the heat crawling under his skin.

Not caring about the risk of drunk driving, he tugged at his shirt collar. A button popped off, bounced off the window, and landed on the passenger seat.

Clive kept his eyes glued to Amelia’s car. Those usually soft, seductive eyes now looked dark, clouded with a messy tangle of emotion. The only thing running through his mind was that flash of red—the image of her in that dress, burned into his thoughts all day, like a stubborn stain he couldn’t get rid of.

She was everywhere, impossible to ignore.

It was maddening.

He couldn’t stop replaying it in his head:

Amelia’s bright, easy smile while she sat in the private room.

That photo Cameron sent—who had their arms around her?

And then there was Felix. Felix out of all people, interested in Amelia?

For fifteen years, Amelia had been by his side, barely noticeable, someone he wouldn’t even introduce to others.

He used to think she wasn’t good enough.

Now that she was gone, suddenly everyone wanted her?

Clive’s irritation simmered, alcohol sparking heat in his veins.

Up ahead, the light turned red. Amelia’s car stopped at the crosswalk. If he got too close, she’d spot him, so he eased up, letting a few cars cut in between them before following again.

While waiting at the light, he lit a cigarette, took a hard drag, and let his hand hang out the window. His face was set in a stormy scowl.

His stomach twisted, a slow burn creeping through him.

He still didn’t even know where Amelia lived.

Yesterday, she was still his wife.

Across the intersection, a plain building hid the entrance to a private club.

Ryan strolled out, suit jacket draped over his arm.

Nathan followed, griping under his breath. “Ryan, that jerk’s got no shame. Treated us like garbage. You spend half a month closing the deal, then at the last minute he ditches us and signs with George! And George, that sick guy, who knows if he’ll even make it to—”

Francisco, trailing behind, went pale and quickly covered Nathan’s mouth. “Mr. Morris, you can’t say stuff like that!”

Nathan could run his mouth, but he was still the Morris family’s golden boy. The Packmans might hate it, but they wouldn’t dare do anything to him.

But everyone knew Nathan and Ryan were thick as thieves.

The Packmans wouldn’t go after Nathan, but Ryan would end up on their blacklist.

She froze for a moment, glancing back, but another car blocked her view.

“What’s up?” Belle noticed something was off.

“…Nothing. Probably just seeing things.”

Why would Clive be following her?

This wasn’t even the way to the villa, and he should be with Kristen right now.

I’m just overthinking.

Amelia double-checked the GPS. “Belle, let’s hop on the expressway up ahead. It’ll be faster.”

“Sure thing.”

—

Clive kept his eyes locked on Amelia’s car, weaving through traffic, sometimes passing other cars just to keep her in sight.

When he realized she was about to take the expressway, he switched lanes, ready to follow.

But right then, a Spyker C8 came out of nowhere, roaring in from the side. It drifted in front of him in a sharp, showy move, blocking him head-on—going the wrong way, no less.

The car looked like a beast, all sharp lines and chrome, radiating danger. The engine’s growl filled the air, pressing down on Clive like a predator daring him to move. It was bold, aggressive, and impossible to ignore.