Mr. Warner, Your Wife is Running Away Again!-Chapter 421: Reaping What You Sow

"Brother Sterling?" Audrey Sutton sat up in bed, puzzled. "Why are you calling this late?"

Quentin Sterling’s voice sounded somewhat anxious: "I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but Clarissa hasn’t come back yet. Her phone is off, and I’ve almost asked all her friends. Has she come to you today?"

Audrey remembered the photos Quinn sent her earlier; she knew Clarissa Morgan and Nolan Hawke went to the bar.

Quentin Sterling was evidently unaware of this. It wasn’t the time to tell him that Clarissa didn’t love him, so Audrey paused and simply replied, "... No, she hasn’t come to me."

"Alright, I’ll call others to ask. Sorry for disturbing your rest, Audrey."

"No problem, I couldn’t be of much help."

After hanging up the phone, Audrey sat on her bed, lost in thought.

While she was pondering, her phone suddenly rang several times. Opening WhatsApp, she saw several voice messages from Quinn.

"Hey sis, you called it right. This photographer is no good."

"I reckon he drugged the drinks. Clarissa passed out after just a couple of glasses, and the photographer carried her straight to the hotel."

"I thought these two had hooked up long ago, didn’t expect him to resort to this."

"I’ve sent you the photos. It’s explosive news, but we’ll listen to you. If you think it’s better, we won’t write it up for now."

Audrey opened the pictures Quinn sent. They showed Nolan Hawke carrying Clarissa Morgan from the bar to the hotel, and there was a short video where Clarissa’s face could be vaguely discerned.

According to Quinn, Nolan Hawke drugged Clarissa Morgan.

Seems Clarissa got herself into trouble, not realizing provoking someone like Nolan Hawke would cause her problems.

It’s hard to say if she deserved it, or if she’s halfway a victim.

Initially, upon hearing about Clarissa’s situation, Audrey should have been happy.

Yet, perhaps due to Quentin Sterling’s earlier call, she suddenly felt a pang of pity for negative occurrences.

She especially felt sorry for Quentin Sterling, searching for his wife late at night while she was spending the night at a hotel with another man.

Moreover, it seemed Clarissa Morgan wasn’t willing to be with Nolan Hawke.

Audrey was conflicted. Should she hurry to inform Quentin Sterling? If he rushed over, maybe things could still be salvaged.

But thinking about how Clarissa Morgan often did not-so-good things, always messing with her relationship with Shane Warner, Audrey didn’t really want to help her.

Struggling internally, Audrey clutched her phone tightly and lay under the covers, trying to convince herself to pretend she knew nothing. That all of this was Clarissa’s own fault, she deserved it.

No matter what happened, it had nothing to do with her. She needed to sleep, it was late, and she had school the next day...

But her heart felt like it was on fire, unable to calm down, and she couldn’t fall asleep.

If she didn’t know about this, even if Nolan Hawke violated Clarissa Morgan, she could comfortably watch Clarissa’s downfall.

Yet now that she knew and could potentially prevent it, ignoring it felt like a moral failing.

After a few minutes struggling, Audrey sat up again and dialed Quentin Sterling’s number...

Just consider it a good deed for her future children.

"Hello? Audrey?"

"Brother Sterling, a friend told me they saw Sister Morgan go to The Chroma Hotel. You might want to check there."

Quentin Sterling’s voice was uneasy: "The Chroma Hotel? I’ll head over now, thank you, Audrey."

"... No problem, go take a look."

"Alright."

After hanging up, Audrey let out a sigh of relief and felt a bit more at ease.

No matter the outcome, she had done her part and could live with a clear conscience.

The night rain poured heavily, a black sedan drove out from The Chroma Hotel’s underground garage.

Nolan Hawke drove, glancing at the unconscious Clarissa Morgan lying in the back seat, and smirked wickedly.

He hadn’t booked a room at The Chroma Hotel, just parked his car in the garage there.

He drove straight to Clarissa Morgan’s dance studio.

It was past eleven at night, plus the heavy rain had closed nearby shops; the streets were deserted, with only a few vehicles passing by.

Nolan Hawke propped Clarissa Morgan’s arm over his shoulder, dragged her out of the car, and stood before the dance studio’s locked glass door. He fished out the keys from her bag and opened the door.

He didn’t turn on the lights, using the light from outside to carry Clarissa Morgan up to the second floor.

He’d been here several times, seen her dance practice a few times.

Whether it was her figure or her dance moves, each time was tempting to him.

He had long fantasized about leaving a wonderful night with her in her dance studio.

And his dream was about to come true on this rainy night...

Quentin Sterling went non-stop to The Chroma Hotel, but after checking with the staff, there was no record of Clarissa Morgan checking in.

He trusted Audrey Sutton wouldn’t lie to him; Clarissa Morgan must have indeed been there, but didn’t stay or maybe something else happened, she went somewhere else.

Leaving the hotel, Quentin Sterling dialed her number again, it was still off.

He hesitated on whether to call the police, worried if the heavy rain caused Clarissa a traffic accident on the road...

He searched every place he could, contacted everyone he could.

Yet, there was still no trace of her, what exactly happened?

Quentin Sterling felt a bit defeated standing at the hotel entrance, under the eaves, watching the rain pouring harder, suddenly unsure where to head next.

...

Clarissa Morgan awoke, but the scene before her was one she wished she’d never woken to.

In the pitch-dark dance studio, she was posed over the window’s railing used for practice.

In front of her was a large glass pane, outside the rain-soaked deserted street.

While the man behind her was doing something that made her sick...

Her body swayed uncontrollably with Nolan Hawke’s rhythm; she wanted to push him away but the drug’s effect made her too weak to resist.

"Awake?" Nolan Hawke’s voice carried a slight panting mixed with excitement.

He gripped Clarissa Morgan’s chin, forcing her head back to look at him: "Between me and your husband, who do you prefer?"