Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 62: Chapter 62

An agonizing pain radiated from Chloe's back, as if a thousand tiny needles were relentlessly stabbing through her muscles. She sucked in a sharp breath, her parched lips quivering.
When she tried to move, her body felt like it had been run over by a truck—every bone screaming in protest.
Her eyes fluttered open to blurred vision, the ceiling above veiled in haze. Blinking repeatedly, she barely recognized the guest room of Stone Villa.
The air carried the faint smell of ointment mingled with the musty scent of antique wood furniture—that familiar yet nauseating combination that violently yanked her back to reality from her dazed state.
Chloe couldn't shake the image of Yael's cold, predatory face from her mind—those sin-stained hands, the flesh-rending pain. A tidal wave of despair crashed over her, wrapping around her like invisible shackles, squeezing the air from her lungs.
She could almost hear his cruel laughter echoing in her ears, those filthy taunts still haunting her, refusing to fade.
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth until her jaw ached, her nails biting deep into her palms as she wrenched herself free from the memories.
"I won't fall," she rasped to herself, her voice scraping like gravel forced through her throat.
Chloe reached behind her, and the moment her fingers brushed against the bandaged wound, a sharp sting made her wince.
'But this dull ache is nothing,' she thought bitterly, 'compared to the crushing weight of humiliation and rage.' It felt like being dragged into a bottomless swamp of filth—no matter how hard she struggled, escape seemed impossible.
"Mrs. Stone," Chloe murmured under her breath, her lashes fluttering faintly. 'If it weren't for Mrs. Stone, I'd never set foot in this den of hypocrisy and filth,' she wondered.
At this thought, the coldness in Chloe's eyes softened just a little, only to be replaced by an even deeper defiance and resolve.
She gripped the edge of the bed tightly and slowly pushed herself upright, a fine sheen of cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her legs felt like lead, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself up, step by painful step, her gaze unwavering.
'I can't fall. I can't show any weakness—no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much hatred I feel, I have to stand up,' she told herself, determination burning in her eyes.
As she opened the door, the driver was already waiting outside. Seeing her emerge, he immediately stepped forward to steady her.
"Ms. Quinn, perhaps you should rest a while longer," he said tentatively, eyeing her wan face with cautious concern.
"Take me to Grandma." Without even glancing at him, Chloe made straight for the staircase, her tone icy and brooking no argument.
The driver hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to dissuade her, but ultimately nodded.
"Okay, I'll prepare the car immediately." As he spoke, his gaze swept over Ms. Quinn's slightly hunched figure. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before it quickly vanished.
The car glided through the silent night. Outside, sickly yellow streetlights cast ghostly, fragmented shadows of trees across the road.
An oppressive stillness enveloped the car's interior, broken only by the low rumble of the engine. Chloe leaned back with her eyes closed, appearing to rest, but the throbbing vein at her temple betrayed her inner turmoil.
Suddenly, the driver spoke, shattering the silence. "Did you know?" he said quietly. "You're the fifteenth person brought to Westvale Estates in just three months."
Chloe's eyes snapped open, her pupils contracting violently. She whipped her head toward the driver. "The fifteenth?" Her voice was hoarse, yet bone-chilling.
The driver seemed to realize he'd spoken out of turn. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and lowered his head, flustered. "I-I just heard it through the grapevine," he stammered.
Chloe pressed on, her voice low and menacing like a taut bowstring. "What about the others? What happened to those girls?"
The driver hesitated, his shifty eyes avoiding direct contact. Finally, he shook his head and murmured, barely above a whisper, "None of them made it out alive."
The air turned to ice. Chloe clenched her fists, veins standing out like ropes on the backs of her hands. Her nails dug deep into her palms—yet she felt no pain whatsoever.
The driver's words struck like a dagger to the heart, piercing straight through her weakest spot.
"What on earth did he do?" Chloe murmured to herself, her eyes fixed on the rapidly receding scenery outside the window. An unprecedented storm of fear and rage churned within her chest.
The driver fell silent, offering no further words. His very silence only further confirmed the terrifying truth of those rumors—a silence more bone-chilling than any answer he could have given.
The entrance of Stone Villa remained brightly lit. Servants bustled in and out, preparing for the upcoming family party. Yet all this bustling warmth meant nothing to Chloe.
The moment the car came to a complete stop, Chloe thrust open the door and instinctively steadied herself against the doorframe. Just then, a familiar, icy voice rang out from the steps above.
The voice sneered, "Back so late? Still making quite an entrance, aren't we?"
Chloe looked up and saw Hayden standing at the top of the steps. He looked down on her with a mocking smirk.
In dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, hands casually tucked in his pockets. Though he exuded nonchalance, his eyes concealed deep-seated contempt and hostility.
"Mr. Stone," Chloe curled her lips in a smile that never touched her cold eyes. "Seems you have too much time on your hands."
Hayden narrowed his eyes and strode down the steps, stopping squarely in front of Chloe. His towering frame cast a shadow that swallowed her whole. "You really think you can still talk to me with that attitude?" he sneered.
As he spoke, he seized Chloe's arm so hard that she couldn't help but wince. "Do you even know who Yael is?" he sneered. "He shows me respect, and even I have to show him deference.
"But you? What makes you think you're worthy of him 'taking care of' you like this?"
His voice dripped with sarcasm, each word a knife twisting in Chloe's heart. Yet she merely watched him, her gaze icy, offering neither struggle nor retort.
"Let go." A beat later, she spat out the words—her voice terrifyingly calm, yet holding an authority that brooked no refusal.
Hayden froze for a split second, instinctively letting go of her arm. But almost instantly, he regained his aggressive stance and jeered, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
"Enough."A honeyed yet soft voice cut between them—it was Yolanda. Gliding over in her high heels, she looked at Hayden with an artfully innocent expression. "Hayden, don't be so hard on Chloe."
With that, she turned to Chloe, flashing a saccharine smile. "Chloe, are you okay? Should I call for a doctor?"
Chloe scoffed, "Don't trouble yourself, Ms. Stone."
Yolanda's saccharine smile stiffened for a moment, but she quickly smoothed it out. "Chloe, you jest," she said. "We are family."
"Family?" Chloe arched an eyebrow, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I believe you've forgotten, Ms. Stone—I ceased to be part of the Stone family long ago."