My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Chapter 89

unpleasant to be put into words. Therefore, Steven summarized it for Armand. “Mrs. Faulkner was really witty. She joined hands together with Patrick to deceive Queenie. They tricked her into the room instead. I had someone climb over the balcony to check it. There was a similar scent in the room.” “Based on what you’ve just said, it seems like she has a good supply of this illegal drug,” Timothy said in a lazy tone. His long slender body was leaning against the back of the sofa. He was a little puzzled. “This kind of illegal drug is very hard to come by. There are limited channels to get it. It’s not something money can buy. I’m very curious as to how she managed to get her hands on it.” Timothy turned toward Steven. “So, this Queenie. Is she from an established family?” “Her uncle is Harold Lane from Central Group’s purchasing department. They have a bit of money, but not much on influence,” Steven answered. His face turned solemn as he continued, “Someone was helping her in secret.” Armand closed his eyes. He was smoking quietly by the window. After the conversation with Timothy and Steven, the cigarette between his fingers had also reached its end. “Once Queenie’s awake, I’ll give her a proper interrogation. I’m dying to find whoever that’s responsible for this setup. How dare they drag my woman into this!” “Wow.” Timothy’s arms were folded in front of his chest. He mocked, “Armand, you were despising her just a few hours ago. All of a sudden, she’s your woman now?” Armand tilted his head and gave him a cold stare. Timothy stopped fooling around. He yawned before announcing to the rest, “It’s been a busy night. I’m feeling tired as well. I’ll go and take a rest. Look for my assistant if there’s anything.” Right before entering his room, Timothy stole another glance at Armand. “I assumed that seven times a night was just an exaggeration by the netizens online. Pfft! Now that I’ve seen it, I have to believe it,” he remarked. The corner of Armand’s eye twitched after hearing what he had to say. If Timothy had closed his door a second late, Armand would have dashed over, detached his head, and reassembled it. By the time Steven came back with a suit for Armand, it was already some time past eight in the morning. Armand was changing into his suit. As he was buttoning his sleeves, he couldn’t help but look in the direction of Genevieve’s room. He instructed Steven, “You stay here. I’ll go to the