When Love Comes Late
Chapter 1279

Despite his attempts to manage the issue through public relations, all efforts failed.

He was now certain Elizabeth’s clash with Matthew was the root cause.

After snuffing out his cigarette, he stared at Elizabeth.

“Don’t let your pride ruin you.

Apologize to Stella.

If she remains silent, Matthew will let it slide.

”

“I won’t apologize to Stella!” Elizabeth retorted defiantly, her fists clenched.

She’d never apologized to anyone throughout her life; it was always the others who apologized to her.

Galen sighed.

He was well aware of her pride and he acknowledged her stubbornness.

“If you won’t apologize, steer clear of Stella during the film shoot.

Let the online storm settle naturally.

People will forget in due time.

”

Yet, Elizabeth paid little heed.

Fists still clenched and teeth gritted, she declared, “This is just the beginning.

I’ll replace ample opportunities to make Stella pay.

She won’t get away with this!”

A few days later, Neville recovered and was discharged from the hospital.

He tried calling Miley, but her phone was always out of reach.

But that wouldn’t budge him; he was determined to speak to her.

He hailed a taxi and gave the driver Miley’s address.

The scenery blurred past the window as Neville mentally rehearsed their conversation, even picturing their reunion.

Soon, the taxi pulled up at Miley’s house.

Taking a deep breath, Neville tried to steady his nerves before ringing the bell.

But no one answered the door.

Frowning, he checked his watch.

He was sure Miley shouldn’t be at work yet.

Refusing to give up, he pressed the bell again and again, met only by silence.

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Unease prickled at him.

Pushing the door, he found it unlocked.

Panic surged as he remembered Roy.

He rushed inside, but the doorknob wouldn’t budge.

Circling to the back, he peered through the kitchen window.

He spotted a figure lying motionless on the floor.

Shock jolted him.

He scanned the garden, then grabbed a stool, smashed the window, and clambered through.

A pungent gas odor assaulted him as soon as he set his foot in.

Miley lay on the cold floor, her face pale.

Covering his nose, Neville scooped her up and ran outside.

He found a clear space, laid Miley down on his jacket, and dialed 911.

“Miley!” he called, his voice hoarse.

But she didn’t respond.