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All Chapters of Chasing Scarlett: A Breeder Romance: Chapter 21 - Chapter 22
22 Chapters
20. Hospital
Chasing Scarlett: A Breeder Romance/Authoress Estevania
“Where were you between eleven pm last night and six am this morning, Ms. Montogomery?” the detective asks, tapping his chin with his pen. My fingers tap into the glass table, anxiety tightening my chest. Je vas bien. “Home.” Because the truth would be much harder to say. “If there’s nothing else, I would very much like to return to my meeting, Detective.” Skeptical blue eyes meet mine. “You were observed on surveillance leaving at fifteen minutes past three in a red Aston Martin, with an unidentifiable man.” He folds his arms and leans back in my chair like he has no where else to be. “I'd urge you to be forthcoming, miss, as lying will only complicate matters. Now, can you provide information on the identity of the man, his contact details, or his place of residence.” Well, shoot. I smile diplomatically. “I could’ve gone on a joyride with my boyfriend for all you know. There’s no proof I did any such thing. Plus, you must not be very
Read more21. Hospital II
Chasing Scarlett: A Breeder Romance/Authoress Estevania
My heels click impatiently on the marble as I fume silently, waiting at Scotty’s Café with a barely touched cup of black coffee. It’s not my usual style, but it’s busy enough to quench my fear of getting jumped. Under the table, my fingers dig into my thigh, shaping crescents into my skin. Agitation and frustration are my only companions as I recall the conversation I had with the doctor and a hateful Isabel before I left the hospital. “It would do him good if you stayed, Ms. Montogomery. It’d speed up his recovery,” Dr. Ian says, his fingers running along the stethoscope hanging off his neck. Retrograde Amnesia, that’s what the doctor thinks Alexander has, caused by the trauma of the accident. Even he doesn’t believe that as he says it to me. A more feasible explanation would be that somebody ‘wiped’ Alexander’s memory, up to the point where we were newlyweds—if such sorcery existed. Unfortunately, it does, and that knowledge makes me cold to my bones.
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