Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Before meeting with Chloe, Carlos made a point of stopping by Hayden's study to see him first. His car rolled into the Stone Villa, and he stepped out with a gift box of medicine in hand. As he walked to the door, his steady, deliberate stride carried a subtle, icy edge.
In the study, Hayden stood by the window, his gaze cold as he watched Carlos's approach. A knot of unease tightened in his gut.
"What are you doing here?" Hayden demanded the moment Carlos entered, voice thick with undisguised hostility.
Instead of answering immediately, Carlos placed the box on the desk and settled into an armchair. His gaze was cool and mocking. "I heard Chloe was injured, so I came to drop off some medicine."
A derisive sneer twisted Hayden's lips. "Since when are you so concerned? A sudden crisis of conscience?"
Carlos met his gaze, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Why? Does my concern for an old friend bother you?"
"Old friend?" Hayden shot back, stalking to the desk to stand over him. "She's a Stone now, not a Quinn, in case you've forgotten. Your brand of 'concern' is entirely unnecessary."
The tension in the room crackled.
"Unnecessary?" Carlos arched an eyebrow, leaning back with a look of casual indifference. "If I recall, the Stones were the ones who threw her in prison. Now you're playing the part of the concerned brother beautifully."
The words were a blade straight to Hayden's heart. His face darkened. He was cornered, with no defense.
"Enough!" he snarled through gritted teeth. "What happened three years ago is over. It's enough that she's back. Stay out of my family's business!"
Carlos chuckled, a low sound laced with mockery and threat. "You think she's forgotten? Or is it that you've chosen to forget?"
The atmosphere snapped taut. Hayden stared at Carlos, a chaotic storm of emotion churning in his eyes before he wrestled it back under control.
"What are you trying to say?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Nothing," Carlos said, rising to his feet. He pushed the gift box toward Hayden. "Just a reminder. Some debts always come due."
He turned and left, leaving one last parting shot hanging in the air. "Give my regards to Chloe. I hope she takes good care of herself."
The door clicked shut. Hayden stood frozen. His gaze fell to the gift box on the desk, eyes turbulent.
Returning from the garden, Chloe stayed in her room, facing the consequences of her return. Demi, her maid, stood by as she tended to her wounds, her own eyes flashing with fury.
"Miss, they're just too much!" Demi finally burst out. "They knew you were hurt, and they still treated you like that!"
Chloe didn't respond, her eyes fixed on her bandaged arm. A faint, ironic smile touched her lips. "You get used to it."
The bleak words made Demi's eyes well up. She pressed the cotton swab a little harder, then immediately softened her touch, afraid of hurting Chloe more.
"Don't be angry," Chloe said quietly. "They aren't worth it."
Demi looked at Chloe's face, so cool and defiant, and was at a loss for words. She knew that beneath Chloe's icy armor was someone scarred beyond recognition.
A knock came at the door. Demi opened it to find Maverick Jennings, his face cold as ice.
"This is for Miss Chloe," he said, handing the small vial in his hand to Demi. His gaze flickered to Chloe, and their eyes met for a silent, charged second before he turned and left.
An unspoken tension hung between them. Just as quickly, Maverick looked away. He turned and left without another word, his back straight and solitary.
Demi closed the door and brought the vial to Chloe. "It's from Mr. Jennings," she whispered. "He said Mr. Lambert and Mr. Stone asked him to bring it."
Chloe's brow furrowed. She took the vial, then a scornful smile appeared. "How thoughtful," she said. "But I have no use for it."
"But, miss... " Demi started, but fell silent as Chloe tossed the vial onto her nightstand without a second glance.
Later that night, unaware of the medicine or the power plays behind it, Hayden was left to stew in his own guilt.
He sat slumped in his study, clutching the vial Carlos had sent over. His mind was trapped on a rainy night three years ago.
The person at the bottom of the stairs, bruised and bleeding, had been Chloe, his sister. He had destroyed her life. He'd once believed time healed all wounds, but looking into Chloe's cold, hopeless eyes, he knew some sins stain forever.
Thinking of that, he suddenly shot to his feet and hurled the vial against the far wall. "Screw it all!" he roared, voice raw and hoarse.
Just then, a soft, timid voice came from the doorway. "Hayden? What's wrong?"
And then Yolanda glided in. dressed in a white silk nightgown, the picture of delicate concern. "Is it because of Chloe? If it's my fault, I'm willing to go and apologize to her... "
"Cut the innocent act!" Hayden spun on her, his eyes like shards of ice. "Do I need to remind you what really happened that night?"
Yolanda's face went white. She shrank back, but quickly composed her features back into a mask of fragile innocence. "I really didn't hurt her... I just... "
"Save it," Hayden said coldly. "Stay away from Chloe. If you don't, I swear you'll regret it."
For the first time, the pretense was gone. He looked at Yolanda with undisguised impatience and disgust. Yolanda stood before him, her fists clenched, but her expression was still pitifully, perfectly composed. "I understand, Hayden," she replied.
Meanwhile, Carlos was back in his car, leaning against the headrest with his eyes closed. But he couldn't stop remembering Chloe's face—cool, pale, and utterly defiant.
"Three years... " he murmured to himself, his tone a complex mix of emotions. "You really have changed."
Just then, his phone lit up. He picked it up to see a text from Maverick: [She refused it.]
Carlos stared at the screen. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Good," he muttered "Now things are getting interesting."
In her own small bedroom, Chloe sat by the window, staring into the inky blackness of the night sky. Moonlight spilled over her pale, slender face, casting her solitude in a tragic, beautiful light.
"Three years... so fast," she whispered, her voice so soft it was stolen by the night. But her expression betrayed the silent, furious storm of resentment raging within her.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.