His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 298: Forced to Work

Tears pooled in Iris' eyes. Her heart ached as if it were being sliced open. The disappointment was crushing. "Ethan, you're talking too much and fidgeting too much—what are you so guilty about?"

Ethan fell silent. His face gradually lost its color.

"No, really, you're imagining things," he said quickly, shaking his head. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. "I've gotta go—things to take care of. But if you run into any trouble, you tell me, okay? I can help you now."

He gave her a light pat on the head, turned, and hurried toward his new luxury sedan before driving off, leaving Iris alone with her sorrow.

Iris tucked the test receipt into her bag and wiped the dampness from her eyes.

Right then, she wished desperately that she was just overthinking—that her sense of smell had been wrong, that she had misread everything.

She stood by the curb waiting for her ride-share when a black car with no plates pulled up in front of her.

The doors opened and three men who looked straight out of a gangster movie stepped out. They wore short sleeves, tattoos covering their arms and necks, their hair bleached blond, sunglasses hiding their eyes—everything about them screamed street thug.

Iris took an uneasy step back.

One of them stood with his hands on his hips, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "You're Iris? The one who won that science prize?"

Another chimed in, "Yeah, that's her. Matches the photo."

The man chewing gum looked her up and down, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. "Not bad. Real young."

Iris drew a shaky breath, forcing herself to stay calm. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The one smoking spoke coldly. "Don't worry about who we are. Our boss wants to see you. Get in."

Iris glanced around. The street was empty—no pedestrians, hardly any cars passing by. Panic tightened in her chest.

But fighting now would only make it worse. Resisting could turn a "come with us" into being dragged.

"Okay," she said quietly, keeping her composure as she got into the car.

Sandwiched between the men in the back seat, she knew she was in danger. A cold sweat broke out over her skin. Trying to appear calm, she slipped a hand into her pocket, pressed the emergency button on her phone, and sent out a distress alert.

They drove for what felt like a long time before one of the men pulled out a black cloth. "We're gonna need to cover your eyes."

"Can I at least know who your boss is?" Iris asked.

"You'll see soon enough."

Iris closed her eyes and let them blindfold her.

Resisting now would be the dumbest move.

She stayed still, waiting to see what came next.

About half an hour later, still in darkness, she was pulled from the car and led along a gravel path. She could sense trees around her.

Then they stopped.

There was a loud, rattling sound—a rolling metal door being opened.

Even blindfolded, the smell hit her immediately: harsh, chemical, and deeply unsettling.

She was guided a little farther inside.

"Boss, we got Iris."

The blindfold was removed. Iris squinted, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light. When her vision cleared, a chill shot up from her feet and goosebumps spread across her skin.

She was standing in a vast warehouse, weakly lit. On a long rectangular table sat an array of lab equipment—the kind used in drug manufacturing.

One setup in particular she recognized from a DEA exhibit: containers used to extract narcotics.

On a nearby sofa sat a man around forty. His features were hard, his gaze sharp. A scar near the corner of his eye stood out, giving him a brutal, dangerous look. Dressed in black, he radiated a cold, violent energy.

Behind him stood four henchmen, each looking every bit the part of a street tough.

"So you're Iris," the man said, raising an eyebrow as he looked her over.

Iris nodded. "I am."

The boss gestured toward the equipment. "I've got a batch that's contaminated with chemical impurities. Hired plenty of top pharmaceutical experts—none could separate it clean. Heard you're good. Give it a try."

Iris glanced at the lab setup, then back at him. "Mind if I ask who told you about me?"

"Celeste," he said casually. "Your college classmate."

Iris' heart sank like a stone. In that moment, all she could think of was Ethan.

Just as she'd suspected. For money, Celeste had dragged Ethan into a bottomless pit.

A wave of fury rushed through her. She clenched her fists, tears stinging her eyes, her vision blurring with rage. She wanted nothing more than to tear that worthless Celeste apart.

The man motioned for her to begin.

Holding herself together, Iris turned and walked to the long table. She expertly pulled on gloves and safety goggles, then carefully placed a small sample of powder onto a microscope slide.

Even with her expertise, the moment she saw the substance, she felt as if she were standing at the edge of a cliff.

One step forward would send her into the abyss.

To take that step or not was a split-second decision.

"I'm sorry," Iris said firmly. "I can't do it."

The man pulled a gun from behind him and pressed it against Iris' temple.

Her whole body went rigid with fear. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her heart hammered in her chest. She was terrified, trembling, barely holding it together.