Back From Prison, Built For Revenge - Chapter 72: Chapter 72

In the Azure Tide VIP lounge, the lighting was even dimmer, murky yellow mixed with neon shadows, as if the air itself was heavy with unspoken tension. On the couch, Hayden sat with his head down, fingers tightly gripping an empty glass.
He'd lost track of how many glasses he'd knocked back, as if only alcohol could numb the jagged mess inside him. Empty whiskey bottles littered the table, some half-open, the amber liquid pooling on the glass like thick, sticky blood.
"Chloe..." Hayden rasped, his voice raw and rough. "You've got guts." His fingers clenched the glass so tightly that it looked ready to shatter.
The air grew heavy for a moment, then soft, deliberate footsteps padded in from the doorway, muffled by the thick carpet yet impossible to ignore.
The door swung open, and a strip of light spilled across the floor, framing Carlos's tall, imposing silhouette. He paused on the threshold, his eyes sweeping the room, a faint, almost mocking smile tugging at his lips. "Still drowning your sorrows at this hour, Mr. Stone?"
Hayden looked up, his eyes flashing with wariness and disgust.
He scowled, looking at Carlos as if he were something disgusting. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Carlos didn't react to Hayden's hostility. He walked to the couch opposite, sat down, and casually grabbed a bottle from the table to pour himself a drink. Every move was smooth and deliberate, a sharp contrast to Hayden's messy state.
"I heard you've been down lately, so I dropped by." Carlos took a slow sip from his glass, his tone casual. "After all, we are old friends."
"Old friends?" Hayden scoffed, slamming his glass onto the table. "Since when do you care about me?"
Carlos didn't answer right away. He set his glass down and met Hayden's eyes with a knowing smirk. "I hear your sister's marrying Yael."
The words hit Hayden like a slap. His face froze, fists clenched tight, knuckles cracking. He looked up, sharp-eyed. "What the hell does that have to do with you?"
"Of course," Carlos said, leaning back with a smug smile. "You know what kind of man Yael is. Marrying him would be sending Chloe straight into hell."
"Hell?" Hayden sneered. "That's her choice. Not my problem."
"Oh, really?" Carlos's eyes narrowed into dark whirlpools. "Or maybe you just don't have the guts to get involved?"
The words hit Hayden like a slap. He sprang up, grabbed Carlos by the collar, and yanked him off the sofa. "What the hell do you mean?" he growled.
Carlos didn't even flinch. He glanced at Hayden's hand and then gave his wrist a light tap. It was gentle, but with surprising force. Hayden's grip loosened, and he stumbled back a step.
"Calm down," Carlos said, smoothing his collar and sitting back down, his voice eerily calm. "I'm just stating facts."
"Stating facts?" Hayden repeated through clenched teeth. "What exactly are you after?"
Carlos looked up, locking eyes with him. His gaze was cold, indifferent, and laced with threat, enough to make Hayden's skin crawl. Then, suddenly, he smiled. It was a smile with no warmth at all. "I have a proposal. One that could free Chloe from Yael and solve your little problem at the same time."
Hayden frowned, "What kind of proposal?" A creeping sense of foreboding rose in his gut.
Carlos leaned back against the couch, his posture relaxed as if savoring a game he'd already won. Slowly, he said, "Let my brother marry her."
The room fell silent in an instant. Hayden froze, unable to believe his ears. "What?"
"I said, let my brother marry Chloe," Carlos repeated, each word sharp and cold, like a blade slicing through ice.
Hayden stared at him, his face shifting from shock to confusion, and then finally to anger. He searched Carlos's expression for any hint of a joke, but there was none, just cold, deadly seriousness.
Carlos's expression was calm and serious. He clearly wasn't joking.
Hayden let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Your brother? Do you actually think a man in a wheelchair can handle Chloe?"
"Why not?" Carlos retorted, his tone deceptively calm, yet every word laced with an intimidating force. "My brother, though physically limited, possesses wisdom and abilities that far exceed most people. And..."
He paused deliberately, his gaze growing even darker. "The Foster family owes us a debt. If I make this demand, they'll have no choice but to agree."
Carlos's words made Hayden ponder. He had to admit that the idea made sense from a practical standpoint. But would Chloe ever agree?
Seemingly sensing his concerns, Carlos continued, his voice smooth yet unyielding. "As for Chloe, she has no say in this matter. If she's smart, she'll realize this is the best possible outcome for her."
"The best possible outcome?" Hayden scoffed derisively. "You're really overestimating yourself. Even if the Foster family owes you a favor, do you really think they'd pay for a good-for-nothing like him?"
The smile vanished from Carlos's face. He rose slowly, facing Hayden head-on, his voice turning icy. "A good-for-nothing?" he scoffed. "If not for that accident, my brother would tower over Yael. And... "
His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "Remember, there are always other ways to settle things."
Carlos's words sent a chill down Hayden's spine. He instinctively stepped back but kept his composure. "Are you threatening me?" he asked.
"Not at all. It's just a friendly reminder," Carlos replied, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips. "If you really care about Chloe, you'd be smart to consider my proposal instead of wasting both our time."
A heavy silence fell between them. The bar's dim, hazy lights cast long shadows across their faces, deepening the unreadable expressions in their eyes.
Finally, Hayden broke the silence. He took a deep breath and said in a low, firm voice, "Fine. I'll consider your proposal. But let me remind you. If you ever hurt Chloe, I won't let you get away with it."
Carlos smiled in triumph. He picked up his glass, clinked it against Hayden's empty one in a silent toast, and then downed the drink in one smooth motion.
"Relax, why would I ever harm her?" Carlos said, setting the empty glass back on the table. He then picked up his suit jacket from the back of the couch and made to leave.