Chapter 491
Chapter 491:
Gabriela’s chest ached with regret.
If she hadn’t gone to Wesley and demanded answers today, they might have at least preserved some fragile semblance of friendship.
After what felt like an endless silence, she finally bowed her head and murmured, “I’m sorry p>
She knew barging into his place uninvited was inexcusable.
Wesley turned his face aside, his gaze coldly withdrawn.
“Take care,” Gabriela whispered, her voice barely steady.
She spun on her heel and hurried toward the door.
Rоm𝖺𝗇cе аո𝗱 𝗉ass𝘪𝘰𝘯 o𝘯 ѕ.𝘤𝗈m
He kept his back to her, unmoving, until the faint click of the door echoed through the condo. Only then did his body sway.
Wesley gripped the counter for support, a tremor running through him, and a hot rush of blood spilled from his lips.
His eyes narrowed on the dark red stain seeping into the carpet.
Time wasn’t on his side — he couldn’t afford to linger on this mess when weightier matters demanded his focus.
As Gabriela stepped out of his condo, her phone buzzed in her hand. Kaleb’s name flashed across the screen. His voice carried a sharp edge when she answered: a newly signed project had hit unexpected snags, and her presence was urgently required.
Without hesitation, she hurried back to the company.
In what felt like a breath, three days slipped past.
Brenden’s wounds hadn’t even begun to close when Wesley ordered him back to work.
Every step sent a jolt of pain through his battered body, and he limped along grumbling in a plaintive voice, “These injuries won’t heal for at least half a month p>
Wesley’s reply came flat and cold through the phone. “Be here tomorrow. Miss the meeting, and your position will belong to someone else p>
The words left Brenden staring blankly at the receiver. “Why are you suddenly so ruthless, Wesley?” he muttered.
But the line had already gone dead.
With no one else to unload on, Brenden rang Fiona, bitterness spilling from him. “Wesley’s being petty — he’s still nursing a grudge because I crashed his engagement party p>
Though Fiona had vowed never to exchange another word with him, guilt pricked at her chest.
This entire mess had begun because of her.
She showed up with a bag of fruit for Brenden and, with her own hands, rinsed an apple and peeled it.
Brenden leaned back against the pillows, a smug curve tugging at his lips. “Didn’t you say you were done talking to me? And yet here you are,” he teased.
Choosing not to spar with a man covered in bandages, Fiona quietly sliced the apple into neat wedges and passed them to him.
Brenden propped himself up on one arm and edged closer, his grin widening. “You didn’t argue. Haha, I won p>
A faint, unsteady flutter rippled through Fiona’s chest at his words.
She forced down the strange flutter in her chest and shoved a chunk of apple between Brenden’s lips with a scowl. “Shut up p>
Her irritation turned dangerous — she had pressed too hard, and the piece wedged in his throat.
Brenden’s face twisted in agony as he stumbled to his feet, clawing at his neck, his body convulsing with panic.
Fiona’s heart jumped into her throat. Scrambling to remember what to do, she seized him, forced him down, and hammered her palm against his chest.
The apple shot free with a wet pop.
But Brenden, sprawled on the floor from her rough push, felt the wounds on his back rip open again.
His chest heaved, each breath a rasp, before a raw, piercing cry tore from his throat.
Fiona’s heart clenched with remorse. “I’m so sorry!” she blurted, her voice trembling.
She reached toward him, but Brenden shoved himself upright, staggering backward until his shoulder slammed into the vase stand.
The jolt tore through his wounds with such searing pain that no sound left his throat.
For a moment, he felt utterly trapped in his own agony, cut off from everything around him.
“Don’t come near me!” he rasped bitterly, his face twisted in pain.
Shaken, Fiona let herself be guided out onto the balcony.