The Jilted Heiress' Return to the High Life - Chapter 527

Chapter 527:

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The world around her spun violently. Then, everything went black.

When Corrine opened her eyes again, the sky outside had already darkened. A dim light illuminated the room, and the faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the air.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, her mind slowly piecing together where she was.

A hospital.

Just as the realization sank in, she heard footsteps at the door. She turned her head to see Nate striding in, his tall frame casting a shadow across the floor under the glow of the hallway lights.

“Are you feeling dizzy?” he asked, settling beside her and gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.

Corrine met his gaze and gave a slight shake of her head.

Without another word, Nate pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

His embrace was firm, almost desperate, as if he were afraid she might slip away if he let go.

His head rested against the curve of her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

Feeling the tension in his body, Corrine hesitated before raising a hand and lightly patting his back.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she murmured.

They didn’t exchange many words. No grand displays of affection. Yet, just holding each other like this wrapped Corrine in an unexpected warmth.

After a long while, Nate pulled back and handed her a brand-new phone.

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“Yours got wrecked in the crash. Take this instead.”

Corrine stared at the device, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

“Did they find the driver?”

“Yeah,” Nate said, his voice steady.

“He turned himself in after the accident. The police are handling it now.”

As he spoke, he carefully ladled out a bowl of broth and held out a spoon for her.

Corrine nodded, pressing her lips together.

“I ran into someone today.”

Nate’s expression darkened, his voice turning sharp.

“It’s Hell.” He had been in the middle of a company meeting when he received a tip-off—Hell had appeared.

The location? The exact place where Corrine had been.

Coincidence or not, Nate hadn’t wasted a second. He had walked out of the meeting without a word and driven straight there.

Yet, despite his urgency, he still hadn’t been able to stop her from getting hurt.

Just then, his phone buzzed. Nate leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Corrine’s forehead.

“Get some rest,” he murmured.

Straightening, Nate turned and strode out of the room, answering the call as he stepped into the hallway.

“Mr. Hopkins,” Matias’ voice came through the receiver, steady yet grim.

“The driver claims he fell asleep at the wheel, but our investigation says otherwise. He received a wire transfer—five hundred grand—six hours before the crash.”

“Did you trace the remittance account?” Nate asked, his voice low and controlled.

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