Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Chloe stopped at the end of the corridor, her eyes fixed intently on the tightly closed door. She stood there, frozen in place, her breathing slowing to a crawl.
The air hung lead-heavy, and even the words Demi had just spoken seemed to take on physical form, mercilessly crushing against her chest.
Chloe unconsciously clenched her phone, her knuckles turning pale.
"Mrs. Stone is critically ill." Demi's voice still echoed in her ears, each syllable a dull ache, like a hammer pounding against her heart.
Chloe took a deep breath, trying to force down the storm of emotions, but the pain in her chest only grew sharper, threatening to tear her apart. It was a swirling maelstrom of guilt, hatred, and unspeakable agony.
After what felt like an eternity, Chloe finally lifted her hand and pushed the door open.
The hinges let out a sharp, grating squeal, a bad warning that sent a chill down the spine.
The room was dimly lit, with only a vintage bedside lamp casting a dim, yellow glow that barely illuminated one corner of the bed. The sharp tang of medicine hung heavy in the air, so damp it was almost suffocating.
Evelyn lay in bed with her eyes closed, her face as pale as parchment. She was a mere skeleton wrapped in skin, her shallow breathing barely there.
She looked as frail as a withered leaf fluttering in the wind, as if she might drift away at any moment.
Chloe hesitated at the doorway, her steps faltering for a moment. But in the end, she forced herself to move forward. Each step felt unbearably slow, as if she were walking on the edge of a bottomless abyss.
"Grandma?" she forced out in a whisper, the words almost squeezed from her throat, her voice thick with tremor and anguish.
Evelyn's eyelids fluttered, and with immense effort, she slowly opened her clouded eyes.
As Evelyn saw Chloe, a faint glimmer of recognition seemed to spark in their clouded depths, but it quickly dimmed, leaving behind only profound weariness and endless sorrow.
"Chloe, you're here?" Evelyn murmured weakly, her voice as frail as a whisper of wind through the treetops, as if it might vanish at any moment.
Yet her tone held the same gentle affection as when Chloe was still that innocent little girl, untouched by the world's hardships.
Chloe nodded silently and sat by the bed, taking Evelyn's skeletal, icy-cold hand in her own. The hand was utterly devoid of warmth, yet Chloe felt as if she'd been scalded. Her whole body went rigid.
Chloe bit her lower lip, straining with all her might to keep her voice steady as she said, "Grandma, I'm here." But no matter how hard she tried, the sorrow still inevitably slipped through.
Evelyn sighed softly, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something, but her strength failed her.
With immense effort, she lifted her other hand and weakly placed it over Chloe's, giving it one last feeble squeeze with all the strength she had left.
Chloe lowered her head, gazing at those wrinkled, veiny hands. Her nose stung, and her eyes instantly welled up.
She bit her lip, determined not to cry. 'I can't break down now,' she thought. 'Any sign of grief would only add to Grandma's distress.'
"Grandma, please don't speak. Just rest," Chloe choked out, unable to stop her voice from growing hoarser.
The only sounds in the room were Evelyn's faint breaths and Chloe's stifled sobs, an oppressive silence that seemed to suffocate them both. But this fragile, terrifying calm was abruptly shattered from outside.
A flurry of hurried footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, punctuated by the sharp click of high heels.
The next instant, the door flew open, and in stormed a woman in a silk robe, her makeup smudged from obvious distress. It was Yolanda.
"Grandma?" Yolanda practically flung herself onto the bed. Her perfectly made-up eyes brimmed with tears, yet they shone with an unnatural brilliance.
Grabbing Evelyn's other hand, her voice laced with exaggerated concern, she said, "How are you? I came as soon as I heard you were sick."
Evelyn offered no response, merely closing her eyes as if she had no strength left to even utter a single word.
Chloe lifted her head, watching Yolanda's dutiful granddaughter act with utter disdain. She fixed Yolanda with an icy stare, saying nothing, but her gaze was sharper than any blade, sending chills down Yolanda's spine.
Yolanda seemed to sense the glare. She turned and, in an accusing tone, said, "Chloe, how could you leave Grandma here all alone? Weren't you supposed to be the most devoted one?"
Yolanda's words detonated the fury Chloe had been bottling up.
"Yolanda, how dare you talk about it?" Chloe sneered, rose from her chair, and advanced on her step by step.
Chloe snapped, her deep eyes radiating icy fury, "If it weren't for you and your mother, would I have been forced to leave this family? Would I have wasted three years of my life?"
"Chloe, I really don't know what you're talking about." Yolanda took a step back, feigning innocence, but her shifty eyes betrayed her inner turmoil.
"Cut the act," Chloe said icily. "Your phony concern turns my stomach."
Before Yolanda could react, Chloe lunged at her, pinning her to the floor. One hand clamped tightly over Yolanda's mouth, both to silence her and to keep from waking Evelyn, who was gravely ill.
Yolanda thrashed wildly beneath Chloe's grip, her muffled cries barely audible. Her delicate face turned crimson from suffocation as she pounded the floor with dull thuds, utterly powerless against Chloe's fury.
The scene unfolded so abruptly that even the maids lingering by the doorway froze in shock. For a heartbeat, no one dared to intervene.
At that moment, the fury in Chloe's eyes reached its breaking point. She raised her fist and swung at Yolanda.
"This is for everything you stole from me," Chloe snarled through clenched teeth as her first punch landed.
Chloe shouted, "This is for what you did to my lost baby." The second punch landed immediately, even more vicious than the first.
Every accusation Chloe hurled, every punch she threw, carried a ripping pain and utter despair.
At that moment, it was as if years of bottled-up rage and hatred were finally unleashed, and Yolanda, writhing on the floor, became the sole target of Chloe's wrath.
"Stop it. Stop her." A sharp, panicked voice shattered the chaos. It was Phoebe. She burst into the room, grabbing Chloe in a desperate attempt to pull her away.
But Chloe, now completely consumed by rage, violently flung Phoebe's hand away with such force that the older woman went sprawling to the floor.
"What are you all standing around for? Get Ms. Stone off her, now." After several moments of cool observation from a distance, Sadie finally barked her command.
Only then did a few of the braver maids snap to attention and gingerly move to separate the two. But no matter how hard they pulled, Chloe, completely consumed by fury, refused to release her grip.
Amid the chaos, Sadie, who had remained silent until now, finally let out a weary sigh. The elderly woman, whose kind exterior masked decades of insight, now wore a deeply complex gaze.
Sadie's gaze shifted between Yolanda, pinned to the ground, disheveled yet stubbornly unrepentant, and Chloe, emotionally battered but still gritting her teeth, refusing to yield an inch.
In the end, Sadie simply shook her head in silent resignation, sparing no further words.
Thud. A heavy stone figurine plummeted from above, striking Chloe squarely on the back of her head.
In her frantic panic, Phoebe had grabbed the figurine to defend herself, but lost her grip, sending it crashing down on Chloe entirely by accident.
In the next instant, the world froze into absolute silence, broken only by the sharp clang of the stone figurine as it rolled a few times across the polished marble floor, and the sickening drip of blood, each drop echoing like a death knell in the stillness.
Phoebe sat on the floor, stunned for a moment before snapping back to reality. She scrambled frantically to Chloe's side, who lay motionless in a pool of blood.
Her voice was a ragged, trembling gasp as Phoebe screamed, "Q-quick. C-call a doctor. Someone, get a doctor now."
The maids scrambled in a flurry to carry the unconscious girl into the room.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Yolanda, just rescued, collapsed in a heap on the floor, not a single inch of her body left unscathed. Yet through her tear-filled eyes, an unmistakable glint of triumph and relief shone through.
Minutes later, Carlos and Peter burst into the hall, their faces ashen with fury.
When Peter saw Chloe lying in a pool of blood, his usually iron-clad composure finally cracked.
He barked orders at the maids, "Get Chloe inside now." Then he whirled around, his piercing glare sweeping over the trembling crowd. "What the hell happened here? Who can tell me what this is all about?"
No one answered; each was lost in their panic. At the back of the crowd, Sadie lowered her gaze, wordlessly watching as the stretcher slowly vanished from sight.
Several hours later, the doctor confirmed the injuries were merely superficial.