Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

In the private ward of Dawnridge General Hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air. Sunlight strained through the heavy curtains like diluted gold, spilling across the floor yet failing to dispel the lingering chill.
Chloe pushed open the door, deliberately softening her footsteps to avoid making a sound. Her fingers still carried the cold from the metal handle.
Evelyn lay half-reclined on her pillow, eyes closed. Each shallow breath seemed to cost her dearly. The lines on her face had deepened, and her paper-thin skin was so pale it looked frighteningly fragile, as if it might crumble at a touch.
Chloe paused in the doorway, frozen as a tidal wave of bittersweet emotion surged through her, stealing her breath away.
"Grandma," Chloe whispered, each word slow and deliberate, as if afraid her voice, no matter how soft, might be too much for Evelyn.
Evelyn slowly opened her eyes, her cloudy pupils contracting slightly as they adjusted to the light. Upon recognizing the figure in the doorway, her eyes instantly lit up. "Chloe?" she called softly, her voice hoarse, yet brimming with joy.
Evelyn lifted her hand, as if to beckon Chloe over, but the gesture was as faint as a branch swaying in the wind.
Chloe rushed to the bedside and crouched down, gently cradling Evelyn's wrinkled, fragile hand in hers. The hand was thin and veined, yet it radiated a familiar warmth.
Trying to steady her voice despite the lump in her throat, Chloe asked softly, "Grandma, how are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"
"My silly girl," Evelyn managed a weak smile. "Don't worry about me. But you? You look so much thinner. Haven't you been eating well?"
Chloe lowered her eyes, avoiding Evelyn's gaze as she tightened her grip on the old woman's hand.
The Stone family's former glory still lingered like a fading shadow, but Evelyn had lost the vitality she once possessed.
'If I hadn't brought that secret to light, maybe none of this would have happened,' Chloe thought, guilt twisting in her chest. A dull ache throbbed deep within her, but she forced herself to keep it hidden.
"I'm alright." Evelyn raised her other hand and gently patted Chloe's shoulder, her voice as soft as when soothing a child. "I know these years haven't been easy for you. As long as you're doing well, that's all I need."
Chloe's nose stung, and her eyes grew moist. Still, she stubbornly lowered her head, refusing to let the tears fall.
This long-lost familial love was like a sudden spring rain, drenching her parched heart. She never thought she would hear such comforting words in a situation like this.
"I'm so sorry," Chloe whispered, her voice barely audible. Each word carried the crushing weight of her guilt.
"Silly girl, what are you apologizing for?" Evelyn's voice carried a hint of reproach, but was filled with even more affection. "Let bygones be bygones.
"No matter what happens, you'll always be my granddaughter—always a child of the Stone family."
Evelyn's words made the tears come flooding out of Chloe. She flung herself into Evelyn's arms, just like when she'd scraped her knees as a child, seeking comfort.
All the pain and grievances she had bottled up for so long finally found an outlet. Chloe clutched tightly at Evelyn's frail body, terrified this might be her last chance to hold her like this.
Evelyn gently patted Chloe's back, just like she used to when lulling her to sleep as a child. "Go ahead and cry, sweetheart. Let it all out—it'll make you feel better," she murmured, every word resonating deep in Chloe's heart.
The ward was dead silent, except for Chloe's muffled sobs and Evelyn's soothing murmurs. At that moment, she felt like a carefree little girl again.
'No matter how many storms rage outside,' Chloe thought, 'as long as I have this embrace, I can grit my teeth and push through.'
Over the next few days, Chloe rarely left Evelyn's side at Dawnridge General Hospital.
She prepared meals, tidied the bed, and reminded the orderlies to keep the ward quiet, performing each small task with meticulous care, as if this was the only thing she could do for her grandmother.
To others, this quiet routine might have seemed dull, but for Chloe, it was healing, a rare sanctuary for her weary soul.
This tranquility didn't last long. A single message shattered that brief and fragile equilibrium.
Chloe glanced at her phone. The message preview on the screen felt both familiar and unsettling. A crushing sense of dread instantly washed over her. She didn't even need to open it to know who had sent it.
"Yael?" Chloe whispered to herself, her voice twisted with a tangled knot of feelings.
"What's wrong with Mr. Foster?" Demi asked cautiously, noticing Chloe's sudden change in expression.
"It's nothing," Chloe said, shaking her head as she slipped the message into her pocket. Then she turned and walked to the window.
The sunlight was still bright, but as it streamed through the glass onto her, it felt like cold, sharp blades against her skin—impossible to withstand.
Demi hesitated, watching Chloe's slender, solitary back. In the end, she said nothing.
The next afternoon, Bluewave Café was quiet, with only a handful of patrons and a pleasantly relaxed atmosphere.
Yael sat by the window in a perfectly tailored suit, exuding effortless composure. He held a coffee cup but didn't drink, just restlessly stirred the dark liquid inside.
Outwardly the picture of sophistication, yet those icy, fathomless eyes betrayed the deep unease and possessiveness he tried so hard to hide.
Yael looked up as the door swung open. The moment Chloe stepped in, a flicker of almost imperceptible excitement flashed in his eyes—gone in an instant, expertly concealed.
"Hi, you're here." Yael rose to meet her, his tone warm and familiar—yet laced with an undercurrent of entitlement, as if her arrival was nothing less than expected.
Chloe tilted her head slightly, her tone calm and businesslike. "Got something to say? Just say it, Yael. I've got work to attend to."
She sat down, her gaze drifting to a small potted plant at the corner of the table. Absentmindedly, her fingertips brushed lightly over its leaves.
A complex look flashed in Yael's eyes, swiftly veiled by a gentle smile as he tried to conceal the subtle disappointment.
"It's been weeks since we've really seen each other," he said softly. "I thought maybe you'd want to catch up, talk about everything that's happened over the years."
"Sorry, I've been a bit tied up lately," Chloe murmured, her tone softening slightly. "How have you been? How's work treating you?"
She looked up, a fleeting softness flickering in her eyes—gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by her usual composure.
Yael picked up his coffee, stirring it absently as if to mask his inner turmoil. "I hear you've been getting quite close to Carlos lately."
Chloe's eyes flickered slightly, but her voice remained even. "What's it to you?"
Yael set down his coffee cup. His gaze softened with barely concealed tenderness as he murmured, "How could it not matter to me? I've been thinking about you constantly these days."
He paused, a subtle flicker of anticipation in his voice. "Don't forget. We have—"
"You mean the engagement?" Chloe cut him off, her voice tinged with weary resignation. "Yael, do you honestly think we're right for each other?"
Yael narrowed his eyes, the shadows in his gaze deepening. He deliberately lowered his voice, each word barbed like a thorn. "Who's right for whom isn't your call."
The tension between them was so thick it crackled in the air, sending an icy ripple through the surroundings. Passersby instinctively quickened their steps, as if fleeing an unseen frost.
The sudden ring of Chloe's phone shattered the palpable tension between them. She glanced at the screen, her eyes darting—as if she'd just found a lifeline.
"I'm sorry. I have to go," Chloe said abruptly. She turned and hurried away without a backward glance, leaving Yael standing alone, looking very lonely.