My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage by Eva Blackwood

Chapter 358

Chapter 358:

He could take on multiple professional fighters at once—Nate, on the other hand, had never faced a real

challenge in his life.

Carrie let out a sneer. “This is all your doing. How could you possibly blme?”

Nate spat a mix of blood and saliva, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I loved you. If you had just married me,

none of this would've happened. It's your greed, your desire to climb into the Norris family, that ruined

everything.”

Nate strained to shift his face toward Kristopher, but Oliver's grip was too firm. He couldn't move an inch.

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Wincing in pain, Nate gritted his teeth and forced himself to speak. “You've been in the tabloids so much, your

reputation is already shot. By doing this to me, you've just closed off any way out for yourself!”

“Shameless!” Carrie hissed, her face twisted with contempt.

Kristopher stepped forward, delivering a sharp kick to Nate's face. His lips barely moved as he coldly muttered,

“Shut the fuck up.”

Nate coughed up another mouthful of blood, a few teeth mixed in, and managed a twisted grin. “I'll see you in

hell, Carrie!”

The police sirens crescendoed, piercing the tense atmosphere as several patrol cars swept into the parking lot.

The family doctor's vehicle trailed behind. Officers quickly approached, pulling Nate away from Oliver and

securing his hands behind his back with metallic handcuffs.

“Mr. Nate Crawford, you are under suspicion of robbery and assault,” the lead officer announced formally. “You

have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in court.”

Nate remained stonily silent, his eyes burning with venomous hatred as he glared at Carrie and Kristopher. Carrie

met his gaze without flinching. With such serious charges looming, Nate's future seemed irreparably shattered.

The lead officer stepped forward, attempting to exchange a few words with Kristopher. “Mr. Norris, thanks to you

Carrie cut him off impatiently. “Whatever needs discussing can wait until we give statements at the station.

Right now, he’s losing significant blood and requires immediate treatment.”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Norris is right,” the officer quickly conceded, clearing a path.

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Kristopher caught the anxiety etched across Carrie’s face and inexplicably felt that his injury was worth every

painful moment. Dr. Molina, the family doctor, approached, medical kit in hand, swiftly cutting open Kristopher’s

shirt sleeve and cleaning the wound with precise, antiseptic movements.

Carrie's eyes darted between the doctor's skilled hands and Kristopher’s wound, her expression a mixture of

urgent concern and tenderness that echoed her past self.

“Dr. Molina, please be gentle,” she urged. “Did it damage any tendons? Will it affect his hand?”

Her constant questions betrayed her unease. For Kristopher, the pain was inconsequential—a mere drizzle in the

storm of his life. Yet, seeing her fret like this, he allowed himself a rare indulgence in vulnerability.

“It hurts,” he said simply, his voice low.