Too Late She Already Married Mr. Right (Sophia) novel Chapter 113

The police didn’t have any real proof, and when they checked the security cameras, all those guys did was sit in their car, not breaking any laws.

So in the end, they just had to let them go.

As Lucas left the station flanked by his bodyguards, he barely stepped out into the lobby before a pack of reporters swarmed

in on him.

Long camera lenses and boom mics pointed straight at his face, flashes exploding in waves, each burst brighter than the last.

He threw a hand up to shield his eyes from the relentless lights, a bad premonition nagging at him.

He was right.

The very next second, a reporter shoved a mic his way. “Mr. Westwood, why were you called in by the police?”

“Rumors are circulating that you’re facing allegations of domestic violence. Is that true?” another reporter demanded.

Yadel Group has been caught in a storm of negative news lately, all because your ex’s livestream sparked outrage among consumers. How do you respond to that?” a third pressed.

The questions kept coming, relentless and sharp. Lucas narrowed his eyes at the crowd of reporters blocking the entrance to the station.

Every single one of them was watching him, their faces hungry and excited—just like a pack of wolves catching the scent of blood. Worse still, several cameras were already broadcasting everything live.

His two bodyguards, sensing trouble, tried to cut a path ahead, but the mob was packed so tight they could barely budge.

“Excuse me, make way please,” one of the bodyguards yelled, but his voice was swallowed in the chaos.

Lucas forced himself to breathe deeply, swallowing the wave of nausea churning in his gut.

The police interrogation had already left him wiped out, and now, with reporters baying for blood, he was at the end of his

rope.

“No comment,” Lucas muttered, his voice tight as he picked up speed, just wanting to bolt through the pack and escape.

But the reporters weren’t about to let him walk away that easily.

face.

The reporter pressed on, relentless. “But we have medical reports, Mr. Westwood. Care to explain how your wife ended up with those injuries?”

“Word is, you went after your wife to stand up for your ex, Emily–even though she’d just had a miscarriage. You didn’t even bother taking her to the hospital, just left her lying there. Care to clarify if that’s true?” the reporter pushed, relentless.

Lucas was blindsided–every question coming at him was a direct hit, exposing the ugly truth he’d tried so hard to bury.

His face grew thunderous, anxiety knotting in his gut. ‘Did Sophia sic this whole pack of reporters on me?‘ he thought, almost paranoid.

“I already told you–this is nothing but slander. My wife and I are perfectly fine, and she wasn’t hurt,” Lucas shot back, his voice frigid, barely keeping himself together.

“Oh, really?” a reporter in a checkered shirt shouted, his voice laced with mockery. “Rumor has it, Mr. Westwood, you’ve brought your first crush back to live in the same house as your wife.

“Are you trying to have it all and play happy family–wife and mistress, both under one roof?”

Lucas felt his blood rush straight to his head. He whipped around to glare at the reporter, eyes blazing. “Say that again.”

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