Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 49: Chapter 49

Chloe woke up, her head throbbing intensely as if a sledgehammer had slammed into her skull—every throb sent her mind spinning.
She blinked her eyes, trying to ease the dizziness, but to no avail. The early morning sunlight slanted through the gap in the curtains into the hospital room, piercingly bright, making her frown.
The monotonous patter of rain outside the window was like an invisible torment, relentlessly wearing away at her already thin patience.
Chloe struggled to sit up, one hand pressed to her forehead while the other gripped the edge of the bed, her fingertips digging in as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
The sharp scent of disinfectant filled the air, instantly churning her stomach. She tried to take a deep breath, but it only intensified the nausea, forcing her to give up.
The door creaked open, revealing the familiar figure of Demi stepping inside.
"Ms. Quinn, you're awake?" Demi's voice carried a mix of relief and concern as she entered, holding the freshly bought breakfast. "Please try to eat something; you didn't have a single thing last night."
Chloe glanced at the food but quickly averted her gaze, remaining silent. She felt no appetite—only revulsion. The sour churn in her stomach made even the thought of eating unbearable.
Seeing that Chloe hadn't touched her food, Demi sighed, a hint of anger in her voice, "Ms. Quinn, do you know? Hayden and Yolanda stood in the ancestral hall all night. It was Mrs. Evelyn Stones's punishment, but honestly, that was far too lenient."
Chloe scoffed, her laugh light yet laced with undisguised sarcasm. "Yolanda's been pampered all her life. A single night of standing is probably torture enough for her."
"Ms. Quinn, you're far too forgiving." Demi's voice grew sharper with each word. "After everything that family put you through, what kind of punishment is this?
"Even if they had to stand for three days and nights, it still wouldn't be enough to atone for all the evil they've done to you."
"Enough," Chloe raised her hand, cutting Demi off. "Drop it. I know exactly what to do."
Demi parted her lips but ultimately held her tongue. Silently, she arranged the breakfast and set a glass of warm water in front of Chloe.
The hospital room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic patter of rain and their shallow breaths.
Chloe lowered her head and picked up the water glass, taking a small sip. The taste made her frown, and she gently set the glass back on the table.
Suddenly, Chloe looked up, her gaze locking onto Demi. "I'm going to see Grandma," she declared, her voice hoarse yet unyielding, leaving no room for argument.
"Ms. Quinn?" Demi rushed forward to steady her. "You're not fully recovered yet. Why don't we wait a while before you go?"
"No." Chloe pushed Demi's hand away, a defiant edge to her movements.
But as soon as she tried to stand, the room spun violently, and her legs gave out, sending her collapsing back into the chair. A sudden, intense headache hit her like a downpour, leaving her no time to brace herself.
Just then, the sharp click of stilettos echoed down the hallway, growing louder. Moments later, the door swung open.
Yolanda walked in arm-in-arm with Carlos. Yolanda, dressed in a pristine white gown, looked delicate and vulnerable, while Carlos, in a fitted suit, had obvious impatience etched across his face.
Standing there, one feigning fragility, the other radiating indifference, they made a striking contrast.
Chloe looked up at them, her gaze icy and distant, betraying not a hint of emotion.
"Chloe?" Yolanda spoke first, her voice soft and quivering, as if on the verge of tears. "I know you're still mad at me, but I really didn't mean it."
Before Yolanda could even finish, her eyes were already red, making her look just like a helpless little bunny who'd been wronged.
Chloe remained silent, her icy gaze fixed on Yolanda like a razor-sharp blade. The air grew thick and suffocating, heavy with unspoken tension.
Carlos frowned and stepped forward, shielding Yolanda. In a low voice, he said, "Chloe, you're being too cruel to Yolanda. She's your sister."
"Sister?" Chloe scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "Mr. Lambert, are you sure you're talking about my sister?"
Carlos was stunned into silence, at a complete loss for words. Instinctively, he turned to Yolanda, who kept her head bowed, tears streaming down her cheeks—the very picture of pitiful vulnerability.
"Chloe, if I've made you unhappy, I can leave." Yolanda's voice trembled with unshed tears. "I'm willing to do anything. Just please, forgive me."
"Anything?" Chloe slowly rose to her feet. Though her body was still weak, her formidable presence was impossible to ignore. "Keep acting? Or are you just going to have me take the fall for you again?"
Carlos's expression darkened as he instinctively shielded Yolanda. "Enough, must you make such a scene?"
"Am I really the one making a scene here?" Chloe retorted with a cold, mocking laugh, her words sharp as knives, cutting straight to Carlos's most vulnerable spot.
"Tell me, Carlos. If I were the one standing here right now, would you be so quick to defend me?" Chloe pressed.
Carlos parted his lips, but no sound emerged. He stared at Chloe—her face, once so intimately familiar, now seemed alien and distant. Words formed in his mind, but they failed him, leaving only silence.
The tension in the hospital room was like a bowstring stretched to its breaking point.
Chloe's gaze shifted deliberately from Carlos to Yolanda's face, her voice utterly frigid. "Mark my words, Yolanda. If you mess up again, I won't let you off so easily next time."
With that, Chloe turned and strode out. Though her steps were a bit unsteady, the sheer finality in her movement commanded attention.
The corridor was eerily silent, broken only by the sharp, rhythmic clicks of her high heels, each step landing like a blow to the heart.
In the hospital room, Yolanda clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palms, yet she was utterly oblivious to the pain. Her head hung low, and her face still wore that pitifully vulnerable look.
She whispered like a frightened fawn, her voice quivering, "Carlos, does Chloe really hate me?"
Carlos let out a sigh and gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring pat. "Don't overthink it," he said softly. "She just needs time."
Carlos didn't see the instant he turned away, Yolanda's face contorted into a twisted, maniacal mask, like a demon hiding behind a sweet, innocent facade.