Chapter 323: Catherine Holloway's Hysterical Shriek Pierced Through the Phone

"Where the hell are you?! Ignoring my calls and texts for days—have you abandoned your own mother too?!" Catherine Holloway's hysterical shriek pierced through the phone.

Grant Holloway glanced at his phone impassively. "Business trip. Busy."

"Get your ass home now! If you're not back today, don't ever step foot in this house again!"

The line went dead.

Grant's brow furrowed as he grabbed his coat and headed to the family estate.

The sound of shattering porcelain greeted him in the foyer.

"Mother."

Catherine whirled around, her perfectly made-up face contorted with rage. "So you remember you have a mother?!"

She stormed forward in stilettos. "Look at the trash you've been dating! That bitch Paige Lawson was bad enough, but her mother's a complete lunatic! She spat in my face today—in front of everyone!"

Grant's eyes turned glacial.

"I warned you about Paige! But no, you had to keep seeing her. Now she's had a miscarriage and blames us—"

"Miscarriage?" Grant interrupted sharply.

Catherine gaped. "You didn't know?"

Grant stood frozen, fingers trembling slightly.

Then his lips curled into a cold smile. "Good."

That child should never have existed.

Catherine took a shuddering breath. "Her mother crashed my luncheon today. The whole social circle knows now. If your father finds out—"

At the mention of Theodore Holloway, her voice shook.

"Clean up your own mess!"

She scrubbed furiously at her arms as if still smelling the assault.

* * *

Meanwhile, Clara Whitmore curled on her sofa reviewing lab data.

The fluorescent lights softened her profile.

Her phone buzzed.

"Clara! I found it!" Sloane Bennett's excited voice chirped through the receiver.

Clara blinked. "Found what?"

"You know...that thing we discussed last time..." Sloane dropped to a whisper. "The fake boyfriend."

Clara choked on air. "Who?"

"You should probab—"

The call cut off abruptly.

Sloane glared at her screen flashing "Julian the Asshole" before answering. "What now?!"

Outside the alley, Julian Cross crushed his cigarette beside an Italian grand tourer. "What took so long? I've waited thirty minutes!"

Sloane smirked. "That how you ask for favors?"

Julian gritted his teeth.

Remembering her black belt in taekwondo, he forced a grin. "Please, Soph. Desperate times."

With a huff, Sloane yanked the car door open.

"One time only."