I Married the President Chapter 225: You’re Not Going to Leave Him to Die, Are You?

"Achoo..." Claire Sinclair sneezed uncontrollably and rubbed her nose.

Just then, a black sedan screeched to a halt by the side of the road.

The car door opened, and a pair of long, slender legs stepped out, striding quickly in her direction.

Claire Sinclair blankly lifted her head. Staring at the man’s stern, cold, and handso face, her mind went fuzzy.

He had been walking quickly, but he’d still gotten caught in the rain over the past few steps. His hair was a little damp, and a few raindrops trickled down his face.

The look unexpectedly gave off an air of sexy, wild masculinity.

"M-Mr. Quincy!" Thoroughly startled, Claire Sinclair scrambled to her feet.

She shot up too quickly, and her vision montarily went black. She nearly lost her balance.

Adrian Quincy reached out just in ti to steady her by the arm. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his face devoid of expression.

"I... I needed to see you about sothing!" ’We’re about to get a divorce,’ Claire thought. ’This isn’t right.’ She quickly shook his hand off her arm and took a step back.

Unfortunately, the bus stop sign was right behind her, leaving no room to retreat.

Adrian Quincy’s voice was low. "If you were looking for , why didn’t you go in?"

"I don’t have a pass."

"Who the fuck needs your pass?" he suddenly swore.

Claire Sinclair froze, looking up at his dark expression. "You cursed..." she muttered under her breath.

Without another word, Adrian Quincy suddenly swept her up into his arms. He turned, strode back to the car, and unceremoniously tossed her inside before getting in himself.

It all happened so fast that Claire Sinclair couldn’t process it. It wasn’t until he was in the car, his overbearing presence filling the space, that reality began to sink in.

"Wh-Where are you taking ?"

"Back," Adrian Quincy told the driver, Aiden Howkins.

Claire Sinclair imdiately protested, "I’m not going inside with you! We can talk right here!"

Of course, Aiden Howkins paid her no mind, silently driving the car toward Quincy Manor.

Seizing the opportunity in the car, Claire Sinclair rushed to say, "Mr. Quincy, Teacher Hartwell has been taken in for questioning by Congress because of . I was hoping you could pull so strings to get him out. Can you do that?"

Adrian Quincy glanced at her but didn’t reply.

’What is this silence supposed to an?’

’He’s not just going to let him hang out to dry, is he??’

’Then again, it makes sense. We’re about to get divorced, and this guy is completely by-the-book. Why would he ever help with sothing like this?’

At that thought, Claire Sinclair tactfully changed her tune. "If you won’t help, then forget it. I’ll resign tomorrow. This job probably isn’t right for soone like , anyway... I’m done."

By the end, her voice had dwindled to a whisper, filled with disappointnt and reluctance.

’She loved this job so much. If she quit, what else could she possibly do?’

’Claire Sinclair, you really are useless. You can’t even hold on to the job you love. What good are you for anything?’

The more she thought about it, the more dejected she beca. A thin film of moisture welled up in her eyes, but she fought with all her might to keep the tears from falling.

’Maybe it’s true. Maybe I’ve always been useless. What can I do but accept my fate?’

As her thoughts churned in turmoil, the car slowly pulled into Quincy Manor.

The mont the car ca to a stop, Adrian Quincy suddenly reached over, hauled her out, and dragged her all the way up to the second floor.

Claire was dragged along behind him, struggling. "Mr. Quincy, what are you doing? Let go!"

The man paid her no heed, dragging her all the way into his bedroom. He finally shoved her into the bathroom, positioned her under the showerhead, and turned on the hot water, drenching her.

The hot water splashed onto him as well, quickly soaking the front of his clothes.