Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 57: Chapter 57

Quella's gaze pierced through Yolanda, who stood by the bedside, sharp as a blade. Her eyes brimmed with a chilling mix of indifference and disappointment, as if trying to tear off Yolanda's carefully constructed facade.
"Quella, you trust me, don't you?" Yolanda's voice quivered like a thread hanging by a hair. She tentatively reached out, her fingers brushing against Quella's ice-cold, rigid hand.
The moment their skin touched, Yolanda's eyes reddened, tears streaming down uncontrollably.
Quella didn't respond immediately. She tilted her head slightly toward the window, her gaze fixed on the fluttering curtains. For a moment, it was as if the entire world had been shut out.
Her fingers twitched but didn't pull away; they simply rested there, cold as glacial stone.
"Do you know how worried I was about you?" Yolanda bit her lip, her voice thick with a mix of grievance and panic. "When you fell into the water, I was terrified."
"I was absolutely terrified. I had no idea what to do. I—" Her words trailed off as she lowered her head like a guilty child.
"Really?" Quella finally spoke, her voice so low it seemed squeezed from deep within her throat, each word enunciated with deliberate coldness.
"Then why did you just stand frozen on the deck when I was desperately fighting for my life in the water?" asked Quella.
Yolanda's entire body jolted, her expression falling apart piece by piece, like paper scattered by the wind. She shook her head instinctively. "No. That's not how it happened. No."
Her words tumbled out faster, as if desperately trying to cover something up. "I was just so panicked then, I swear I don't even remember how I passed out. You have to believe me, Quella."
"Passed out?" Quella scoffed, her laugh crackling like crushed dead leaves. "Yolanda, you can fool others, but not me.
"Did you really think I didn't see? You just stood there, watching me fall into the water, and did absolutely nothing. Nothing at all."
"It's not like that." Yolanda threw herself at the bedside, desperately clutching Quella's arms. "Quella, I swear, I truly didn't mean for any of this to happen. I'm your friend. How could I ever hurt you?"
Quella violently shook off Yolanda's hand, her eyes as cold as arctic frost.
"Friend?" Quella scoffed, her laugh laced with biting sarcasm. "Then tell me, what exactly happened back then? Why was everyone scrambling to save me, while you just so conveniently fainted?"
Yolanda parted her lips, but no sound came out. She lowered her head, frantically wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, and kept repeating, "I'm sorry."
Yolanda's words echoed hollowly, reverberating again and again, yet utterly devoid of meaning.
Suddenly, the door burst open, shattering the tense standoff.
Carlos strode into the room, his brows tightly furrowed. His gaze swept over the pale and weak Quella, then landed on Yolanda, her tear-streaked face full of sorrow.
Carlos walked over, gently helped Yolanda up from the floor, and said in a low, soothing voice, "Don't cry. This isn't all your fault."
"Carlos?" Yolanda lifted her tear-streaked face, her large, glistening eyes gazing up at him with pitiful vulnerability. "But Quella just doesn't believe me."
"Enough," Carlos snapped, his brow furrowed in impatience as he cut her off.
He turned to Quella, his voice laced with reprimand. "You're being completely unreasonable, Quella. Yolanda was genuinely terrified back then—she was one of the victims, too. How can you blame her like this?"
"Victim?" Quella's laugh grew even more scathing, cutting through the air like a knife. "So in your eyes, I'm just the one who doesn't belong, am I?"
"That's not what I meant," Carlos sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "But it is what it is. It's in the past, and there's no point in dwelling on it."
"No point?" Quella shot upright in bed, bracing herself on her knees as she locked eyes with Carlos's seemingly righteous yet chillingly indifferent face.
"If it had been Yolanda who fell into the water today instead of me, would you still call it no point?" she demanded.
The air in the room turned to ice, every breath cutting through the silence.
Yolanda desperately clutched Carlos's sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper as she pleaded, "Carlos, please don't be angry. It's all my fault, I'm the one to blame."
Yolanda's pitiful act was the last straw for Quella. "Enough," she roared, flinging off the blanket and leaping to her feet. "Stop playing the victim. Yolanda, just how many times must I die before you're satisfied?"
With that, Quella shoved Yolanda aside as she tried to approach. Yolanda staggered, nearly falling, but still clung to her innocent, pitiful act.
"Have you lost your mind?" Carlos shouted, his hand shooting up in fury. Without a moment's hesitation, he slapped Quella hard across the face.
The slap came without warning. Quella froze, her hand flying to her stinging, swollen cheek.
Slowly, Quella turned to Carlos, her gaze cold and unfamiliar, as if looking at a stranger. In a low voice, each word dripping with despair, she whispered, "Fine. Just fine, so this is my family."
With that, Quella spun around and strode toward the door without a backward glance.
"Quella?" Yolanda tried to rush after her, but Carlos blocked her path with an outstretched arm.
In a low, icy voice, he said, "Let her cool off."
Unseen by anyone, Chloe stood just outside the door, having heard every word.
On the yacht's deck, the night wind howled, carrying the briny tang of the sea. Chloe stood by the railing, her long hair whipped into wild disarray by the gusts.
She leaned casually against the rail with her arms crossed, feigning nonchalance—yet not a single word from the room had escaped her.
Footsteps sounded behind her. A tall figure closed in—it was Hayden. Hands stuffed in his pockets, his piercing, hawk-like eyes locked onto Chloe, as if trying to see right through her.
"Enjoy playing people against each other?" he asked, his voice icy.
Chloe turned her head, meeting Hayden's gaze. Her dark, unfathomable eyes showed not a hint of emotion. "Is saving someone considered sowing discord?" she retorted blandly.
"Drop the innocent act." Hayden sneered, stepping closer until there was barely half a meter between him and Chloe. "If you hadn't stirred the pot, Quella and Yolanda wouldn't be at each other's throats like this."
Chloe arched a brow, a mocking smile curling at her lips. "Oh? So you think I should have just stood by and watched an innocent person drown, is that it?"
Hayden didn't answer, just fixed her with an icy stare.
After a moment, Hayden spoke again, his tone cold and probing. "Just now, Quella mentioned something about what happened when she woke up. Did you have anything to do with that?"
Chloe paused for the briefest moment before regaining her composure. She shrugged, her tone deliberately casual. "Maybe. But even if you know some truths, what then?"