The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 39

Caleb, the driver, immediately replied, "Yes, Mr. Prescott!"

With that, Caleb climbed into the car.

Winona, meanwhile, stood frozen where she was.

She had never even crossed paths with Yves Prescott before, and today—on their very first meeting—he'd looked her straight in the eye and said, "You're hideous."

How venomous could one man be?

Before she could even process what had happened, Caleb, who'd been about to start the engine, jumped out of the car again. Pointing anxiously at the stunned Winona, he shouted, "Hurry, get in! Mr. Prescott just passed out—we need to get him to the hospital right now!"

"Uh… okay!" Winona stammered, snapping out of her daze and scrambling into the front passenger seat.

Caleb sped off at once.

In the car, Winona quickly called for a tow truck to deal with her own car, giving them hurried instructions.

Only after handling everything did she turn to glance at the man slumped unconscious in the backseat.

A moment ago, he'd spat out a cruel insult; a heartbeat later, he'd fainted. Was this what people meant by instant karma?

Still, anxiety twisted inside her.

First, her own daughter had hit her with heartbreak. Now, she'd managed to get tangled up in a mess like this.

If the CEO of Prescott Financial Group ended up seriously hurt because of her, she'd never be able to pay for it, even with her own life.

A heavy cloud settled over her, an icy chill creeping through her bones.

Just then, her phone buzzed with a new message from Wesley.

[Nona, don't rush. Drive carefully, okay? Zane, your grandmother, and your godmother all need you. No matter how urgent things are, you have to take care of yourself on the road.]

Tears welled up in her eyes.

That's right. Zane, Mia, her grandmother—they were all waiting for her. Wesley had always been there for her, too.

She was a fighter. Nothing could keep her down.

She quickly typed a reply.

[I'm fine, Wesley. Don't worry about me.]

Worst of all, the jacket she'd thrown on last night was inside out—the lining on the outside, the proper side next to her skin.

She'd driven like this all morning, gone to the ER, visited Julian's mansion, and then raced to the hospital with Yves Prescott's driver.

No wonder the nurse at the ER last night had looked at her like she'd escaped from a psych ward.

No wonder Julian's housekeeper had asked, with pity in her voice, if she needed any help.

No wonder Yves Prescott, right before he passed out, had managed to spit out those two words: "You're hideous."

Standing there in the mirror, she had to admit it—she didn't just look ugly. She looked positively haunted.

That was the price of not sleeping all night, worrying about Tiana until her heart felt scorched, only to hear her daughter say, "Mom, if you come clean my house, I'll forgive you."

Winona quickly straightened her hair and tied it up in a bun, splashed some water on her face, and walked out of the bathroom.

"I'm okay now, Wesley," she said.

She had never liked burdening others, nor was she the type to complain about her troubles. Wesley understood that.

He didn't press her for details, just said gently, "Nona, good things are worth waiting for. The investors are still very interested in your project. I explained that you had an emergency, and they understood. You're exhausted. Go home and get some rest. Once you're feeling better, I'll set up new meetings for you."