Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Chloe's sardonic chuckle echoed through the hall.
A flicker of panic crossed Hayden's face, but he quickly forced it down. He raised his head, fixing Chloe with a turbulent gaze. His lips moved, but no sound escaped him.
"What?" Chloe drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. "Mr. Stone, aren't you always so silver-tongued? Lost your tongue today?"
Hayden's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked and veins bulged.
He took a deep breath, attempting to steady his voice, but the tremor still betrayed him. "Chloe, I admit I've wronged you, but this time, it's truly not what you think."
"Not what I think?" Chloe arched an eyebrow, the chill in her eyes only deepening. "Then by all means, enlighten me. What exactly is it?"
Hayden's lips parted, but no words came out. His silence stretched the tension in the hall to its breaking point. Everyone held their breath, as if the very air had frozen solid.
"Enough." Phoebe finally broke her silence. She stepped forward, shielding Hayden behind her, and pleaded, "Chloe, Hayden has already admitted his mistakes. Must you keep pressing him like this?"
Chloe turned her head and looked into Phoebe's pleading eyes, finding it utterly ridiculous.
'How many times have I longed to see even a shred of genuine concern in her eyes,' Chloe thought, 'instead of this hypocritical act she's putting on now.'
Chloe sneered coldly, "Admitting his mistakes, huh? If a simple apology could erase everything, then should my three years of wrongful imprisonment just vanish into thin air?"
Phoebe's face instantly blanched. Her lips parted as if to speak, but Chloe's icy glare made her recoil. Seeing this, Yolanda rushed forward and seized Chloe's hand.
"Chloe," Yolanda said in a voice so tender it could melt hearts. "Please don't be like this. We're all family. Can't we just talk things through? Mom and Hayden truly care about you; they just don't know how to express it."
Chloe looked down at her hand, gripped by Yolanda. Those delicate fingers trembled slightly, feigning fragility and innocence. Yet the touch made Chloe's stomach churn with revulsion.
Chloe abruptly yanked her hand back, as if scalded by something vile.
"Family?" Chloe scoffed back. "If this is your idea of family, then I'd rather have never been part of it at all."
Yolanda froze for a moment, then lowered her head with exaggerated fragility. "Chloe," she said, her voice dripping with faux remorse, "I know you're still angry with me, b-but I truly don't know how to make it up to you."
"Make it up to me?" Chloe cut her off. "Yolanda, what exactly could you possibly make up for? You've already destroyed my life. And now you dare talk about making it up? Isn't that the most ridiculous joke you've ever told?"
"Enough." Carlos, who had been standing silently at the doorway, suddenly spoke.
He strode into the hall, commanding everyone's attention. His eyes locked onto Chloe, deep yet frosty. "Are you done making a fuss?"
Chloe froze for a moment, caught off guard by Carlos's sudden intervention, and even more so by his icy tone. She stared into his eyes, searching for any trace of warmth, but found nothing but cold indifference.
"This is the Stone family's private matter," Chloe said coldly. "It's none of your business."
Carlos ignored her protest. He strode directly up to Chloe and, in a tone that brooked no argument, ordered, "Come out with me."
"No." Chloe shot back without hesitation, not even deigning to spare him a glance.
Carlos didn't back down. He reached out, grabbed Chloe's wrist, and forcefully dragged her toward the door.
Chloe struggled, but his iron grip left her powerless to break free. "Let go of me," she snarled.
"Quiet," Carlos growled softly. His voice, though barely above a whisper, carried an authority that brooked no argument.
Still locked in their tense standoff, the two walked out of the hall. The heavy doors slammed shut behind them, cutting them off from the gazes of everyone inside.
A chilly night breeze swept through the courtyard, bringing Chloe a sliver of clarity.
"What the hell do you want?" Chloe wrenched her wrist free from Carlos's grasp, her eyes blazing with fury and wariness as she glared at him.
Carlos fell silent for a moment before speaking in a measured tone. "I just hope you'll stop this relentless pursuit. It does no good, not for you, not for anyone."
"Relentless pursuit?" Chloe let out a bitter, almost mocking laugh. "So in your eyes, I'm the one hounding them?"
Carlos didn't answer, merely fixing her with a complex, inscrutable gaze. His silence only fueled Chloe's fury. She felt like a pathetic spectacle, while Carlos seemed to be looking down on everyone from his lofty perch.
Chloe spat through gritted teeth, "Thanks for the advice, but stay out of my business."
With that, Chloe turned and walked away without looking back, not even once.
Carlos stood rooted to the spot, watching her receding figure, his brows furrowed slightly. For a fleeting moment, he seemed on the verge of pursuing her, but ultimately halted. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, and he, too, turned and left.
When Chloe returned to her apartment, it was dark and empty. She turned on the lights and flopped down onto the couch.
Everything that happened tonight felt like a nightmare, leaving Chloe completely exhausted. But when Demi walked in carrying a first-aid kit, Chloe had to summon what little energy she had left to deal with her.
"Ms. Quinn," Demi said gingerly, "let me take a look at your wound."
"No need," Chloe said, waving her hand, but Demi stubbornly insisted on treating her wound.
When those work-worn yet gentle hands touched her skin, Chloe was flooded with a strange yet deeply familiar warmth. This sensation filled her with both comfort and fear. It was so fleeting and illusory, as if it might vanish at any moment.
As night deepened and after Demi left, the room was swallowed by silence once more.
Lying in bed, Chloe closed her eyes, but the faces of those once so familiar yet now distant strangers flooded her mind—their words, their actions. These memories coiled around her like a suffocating net, making it impossible to breathe.
Chloe jolted awake from her nightmare, gasping for air as she shot upright in bed. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead and along her cheeks; she reached up to wipe it away, only to find her hands trembling slightly.
Suddenly, a frantic pounding at the door shattered the silence of the room. Demi burst in, her face deathly pale. "Ms. Quinn, it's an emergency. Mrs. Stone is critically ill."