Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 23: Chapter 23
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 23: Chapter 23. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Victor lay sprawled across Elena, his entire weight pressing her down.
Annabelle's eyes went wide; fury surged from her toes to the crown of her head—she wanted nothing more than to rip Elena apart.
But mindful of Victor, she swallowed the rage, dragged him upright, and hissed, "Victor, what happened?"
Victor's expression was dark, almost frightening; he ignored Annabelle and fixed a deadly stare on the woman still on the floor.
Pain radiated up Elena's spine; for a moment she couldn't stand.
Without a word of explanation, Victor turned on his heel and walked out.
Annabelle glanced back; her gaze was a cold, venomous serpent aimed straight at Elena.
Leaning close, she snarled, "Elena Bennett, stay away from Victor. If you keep scheming, I have plenty of ways to deal with you. Haven't you suffered enough this past year? I can always arrange a refresher."
Elena let out a low, mocking laugh. "And what if I am scheming? Annabelle, did you really think you'd already won?"
"You—!"
Annabelle's hand shot out and clamped around Elena's throat. "Elena Bennett, are you begging to die?"
Victor Whitmore's voice floated in from the corridor as his approaching footsteps stopped outside the door. "Annie."
Annabelle Bennett startled, the mask of frailty snapping instantly into place. Elena Bennett knew her sister was about to frame her again and, before Victor could step inside, she seized the opening line herself.
Elena said, "Annie... nothing happened between President Whitmore and me. Please don't do this. Even if you won't trust me, you should at least trust him."
Annabelle stared, dumbfounded, at Elena—who was crouched on the carpet, arms wrapped over her head like a frightened rabbit. She whirled around in panic.
Victor paused in the doorway, his gaze locking on Elena, a deep furrow etched between his brows.
Annabelle clasped her hands together and pleaded, "Victor, I... it isn't what it looks like. Elena, how could you? I did nothing—I was only trying to help you up."
She smiled sweetly at Elena, yet inside she was slicing her sister into pieces eight hundred different ways.
Elena lifted her head, timid and trembling.
Victor's jaw set like granite. "Once the fitting is done, go straight home," he ordered.
Annabelle drew a calming breath, reached down to pull Elena up, and said with a bright smile, "Come on, Elena, let's go home."
Elena yanked her arm back. "You and President Whitmore should ride together. I'd hate for you to misunderstand me again."
Annabelle's eye twitched. She shot Elena a warning glare, then threaded her arm possessively through Victor's.
The drive back was silent; Annabelle no longer felt like chirping away.
No one spoke until the car rolled through the Bennett family gates.
A sudden wave of unease washed over Annabelle; she was convinced Elena was finally about to rebel—maybe even retaliate.
The moment she stepped out, Annabelle latched onto Victor's arm, leaning into him with practiced intimacy.
Elena opened her door. As the couple passed, she deliberately twisted her ankle and collapsed backward.
Victor caught her waist on pure instinct.
Elena gasped; her right hand shot to steady herself and landed squarely on the back of his hand.
Feeling the thick calluses in her palm, Victor frowned. "Watch where you're going."
Elena bit her lip. "President Whitmore, have you forgotten what you did to me in the fitting room just now—"
Victor's face darkened. "Enough."
Annabelle, eyes blazing, shoved Elena aside.
Annabelle's eyes went wide; fury surged from her toes to the crown of her head—she wanted nothing more than to rip Elena apart.
But mindful of Victor, she swallowed the rage, dragged him upright, and hissed, "Victor, what happened?"
Victor's expression was dark, almost frightening; he ignored Annabelle and fixed a deadly stare on the woman still on the floor.
Pain radiated up Elena's spine; for a moment she couldn't stand.
Without a word of explanation, Victor turned on his heel and walked out.
Annabelle glanced back; her gaze was a cold, venomous serpent aimed straight at Elena.
Leaning close, she snarled, "Elena Bennett, stay away from Victor. If you keep scheming, I have plenty of ways to deal with you. Haven't you suffered enough this past year? I can always arrange a refresher."
Elena let out a low, mocking laugh. "And what if I am scheming? Annabelle, did you really think you'd already won?"
"You—!"
Annabelle's hand shot out and clamped around Elena's throat. "Elena Bennett, are you begging to die?"
Victor Whitmore's voice floated in from the corridor as his approaching footsteps stopped outside the door. "Annie."
Annabelle Bennett startled, the mask of frailty snapping instantly into place. Elena Bennett knew her sister was about to frame her again and, before Victor could step inside, she seized the opening line herself.
Elena said, "Annie... nothing happened between President Whitmore and me. Please don't do this. Even if you won't trust me, you should at least trust him."
Annabelle stared, dumbfounded, at Elena—who was crouched on the carpet, arms wrapped over her head like a frightened rabbit. She whirled around in panic.
Victor paused in the doorway, his gaze locking on Elena, a deep furrow etched between his brows.
Annabelle clasped her hands together and pleaded, "Victor, I... it isn't what it looks like. Elena, how could you? I did nothing—I was only trying to help you up."
She smiled sweetly at Elena, yet inside she was slicing her sister into pieces eight hundred different ways.
Elena lifted her head, timid and trembling.
Victor's jaw set like granite. "Once the fitting is done, go straight home," he ordered.
Annabelle drew a calming breath, reached down to pull Elena up, and said with a bright smile, "Come on, Elena, let's go home."
Elena yanked her arm back. "You and President Whitmore should ride together. I'd hate for you to misunderstand me again."
Annabelle's eye twitched. She shot Elena a warning glare, then threaded her arm possessively through Victor's.
The drive back was silent; Annabelle no longer felt like chirping away.
No one spoke until the car rolled through the Bennett family gates.
A sudden wave of unease washed over Annabelle; she was convinced Elena was finally about to rebel—maybe even retaliate.
The moment she stepped out, Annabelle latched onto Victor's arm, leaning into him with practiced intimacy.
Elena opened her door. As the couple passed, she deliberately twisted her ankle and collapsed backward.
Victor caught her waist on pure instinct.
Elena gasped; her right hand shot to steady herself and landed squarely on the back of his hand.
Feeling the thick calluses in her palm, Victor frowned. "Watch where you're going."
Elena bit her lip. "President Whitmore, have you forgotten what you did to me in the fitting room just now—"
Victor's face darkened. "Enough."
Annabelle, eyes blazing, shoved Elena aside.
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 23. Continue reading Chapter 24 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.