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When Patrick saw Armand coming out, he shifted his gaze and straightened his body. Armand closed
the door, waved Patrick over, and asked in a low voice, “Your brother said that you handled the matter
yesterday?” “Yes.” “Where is the man?” Patrick fiddled with his fingers. Lowering his head, he
answered, “Dead.” His fists were too brutal. By the time the call was made to warn Marilyn, he noticed
that the man had already stopped breathing. Armand was still as cool as a cucumber when he heard
that. He simply nodded and said, “Call the hotel to book a suite, and buy me a new phone.” Patrick fell
silent. “Okay.” After replying to his emails, Steven happened to see Armand heading back into the
ward. Steven quickly went up to Patrick. “Patrick, what did Mr. Faulkner say to you just now?” “He
asked me to book a hotel suite and buy a new phone.” Patrick’s expression was grave as he glanced at
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtthe closed door of the ward. “He probably knows that Genev doesn’t like the smell of hospital
disinfectant. Steven, tell me, does he like Genev or not?” Armand was obviously legally bound to
Genevieve, yet he pampered Marilyn so much. The night before, even if that man had gotten away with
it, Patrick had no way to send him to the police station to testify against Marilyn either because he
would probably be dealt with by someone else. Someone didn’t want Marilyn to have blood on her
hands. “Patrick, you’re getting bolder.” Steven’s expression was grim as he reprimanded Patrick. “Mr.
Faulkner is your boss. Don’t you have any respect for him? Also, whatever the relationship between Mr.
and Mrs. Faulkner is, it’s none of your business. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” “None
of my business?” Patrick could not take it anymore. “Genev is my friend. She’s a human being! Do you
know that day at the Faulkner residence, Genev—” “Patrick!” As they were just beside the ward,
Steven lowered his voice and said, “Next time, you call her either ‘Mrs. Faulkner’ or ‘Ms. Rachford.’ If
you call her anything other than that, I will kick your butt to Epea, and you will never come back! Now,
go buy a phone for Mr. Faulkner. I will book the hotel suite and handle Mrs. Faulkner’s discharge.”
Patrick was quiet. His lips were itching to speak, but he swallowed his words in the end. With heavy
eyelids, he turned and headed to the elevator. Once Patrick returned from buying the phone, Armand
installed the SIM card and switched it on. He put his coat over Genevieve, then took her out of the
hospital and to the hotel. Genevieve would not cooperate with him in the slightest. At the hotel, she
dashed to the front desk and showed her phone to the receptionist. Her message read: Can you help
me print out a divorce agreement? “Huh?” Even though there was a printer at the front desk and they
could indeed provide this service, the young receptionist was confused by Genevieve’s request. If this
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmlady wants to settle her divorce papers, shouldn’t she be looking for a lawyer? Just then, the
receptionist saw a tall, burly man walking forward. When she saw him, she immediately lowered her
head and greeted him respectfully, “Mr. Faulkner.” Armand did not even spare her a passing glance as
he snatched away Genevieve’s phone. He took a look at the message on the phone and was amused.
“This hotel is owned by Central Group. Do you think the employees would help print out their boss’
divorce agreement?” Genevieve was dumbfounded. Is Central Group involved in every industry out
there? Looking at Armand’s calm demeanor, Genevieve was so angry that she wanted to throw the
coat at his face. She turned around and stormed off toward the elevator. “Mr. Faulkner, the suite is on
the top floor. You need an exclusive card,” the receptionist informed and handed him the elevator card.
She had received Steven’s call earlier to book a suite. Armand took the card and ordered, “Get
someone to pack up her luggage in the room and send it to the suite.” “Yes, Sir,” said the receptionist
with a polite bow. As she watched the big boss step into the elevator, she clutched her chest to calm
her wildly beating heart. With trembling hands, she took out her phone and opened her group chat to
gossip. She texted: Oh my God! Mr. Faulkner is really married!