Chapter 42
42:
“Brendon!” Katie seized his arm, her voice tight with urgency. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Let go!” Brendon snapped, his eyes glinting with warning as he wrenched his arm free.
Katie’s jaw clenched. “No. I won’t let you run after that wretch like some lovesick fool!”
“I said let go!” With a flick of irritation, Brendon shoved her hand aside and stormed after Christina.
“Brendon!” Katie’s voice cracked behind him, raw with disbelief. “How can you do this to Yolanda?”
He halted mid-step, his shoulders tense. Slowly, he turned, his gaze frostbitten. “Say one word to Yolanda, and your credit card’s gone.” Then, with a sharp breath, he added, “There is nothing going on between me and Christina. I just need answers. That’s all.”
Before Katie could counter, Brendon turned on his heel and marched out, fury radiating from every step. But as he burst through the hospital doors, the cold air hit him—and so did reality. He caught only a glimpse of Christina sliding into the backseat of a sleek black luxury car. It wasn’t her car. And she didn’t look back.
Brendon’s temple pounded as he unlocked his phone, his fingers moving with tense precision. He pulled up a photo—one he hadn’t wanted to revisit. It showed a black luxury car, the exact make and model of the one Christina had just disappeared into.
“Damn it!” he hissed, jaw tight, voice barely above a growl.
He had tried—really tried—to give Christina the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d misread the signs. Maybe he had misunderstood her. But the evidence stared back at him, cold and damning. It appeared Christina had been lying to him the entire time. The irony stung. Christina had fallen so far from grace, yet had still found the nerve to accuse Katie.
“Fine,” Brendon muttered bitterly, his teeth clenched so tightly that they ached. “I was a damn fool, Christina. Too stupid to see through your act.”
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Rage swelled inside him, raw and untamed. He stormed toward a tree nearby, needing an outlet—something, anything—to release the fury building in his chest. He aimed a kick—but in his haste, his foot slipped on the damp ground. His leg shot out awkwardly, and the next thing he knew, the earth rose up and slammed into him. Pain exploded through his back. For a moment, he couldn’t even breathe.
Katie had just stepped out of the hospital when she caught sight of him sprawled on the grass. “Brendon!” she cried out, racing to his side, panic rising in her voice. “Brendon, are you okay?”
“I’m… I am fine,” he gasped, even as his face contorted in agony. He tried to sit up, but his vision spun and darkened at the edges.
Katie hovered beside him, furious and frightened. “Did that awful woman do something to you?”
“No,” he muttered, eyes half-shut, voice faint. “I just slipped.”
Then, Katie’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh my God—Brendon!”
He looked at her, annoyed. “What now? Why are you freaking out?”
“Brendon—your hand!” Katie gasped, her voice trembling. “It’s covered in blood!”
Startled, Brendon glanced down, his stomach twisting at the sight. A slow wave of panic rose in his chest. He reached behind his head and winced as his fingers met the sticky warmth of blood. “Get me inside—now!” he said sharply, fear lacing his voice for the first time.
Katie sprang into action, slipping her arm around him to keep him steady. Her thoughts raced—what if it was serious? What if he collapsed right here? What would that leave the Dawson family?
As they staggered back toward the hospital doors, Brendon pulled out his phone.
“Are you calling Yolanda?” Katie asked, breathless. “Let me do it.”
“No,” he said coldly, already tapping in a number. But it was Christina’s number.
Katie’s eyes narrowed as she caught the name on the screen. “Christina? You’re calling that bitch now?”
“Watch your mouth,” Brendon snapped, his tone icy as he cut her a glare.
Katie clamped her lips shut, but fury simmered behind her eyes. Still, some part of her wanted to see—would Christina even care? Would she bother picking up?
The call rang out. No answer. Brendon’s frown deepened. He tried again. And again. Three times. Still nothing.
Was Christina too busy cozying up to the man in the black car to answer? His ex-wife, whom he had never so much as made out with, was now with another man. What right did anyone else have to claim her? It seemed Katie had been right all along. Christina was a chameleon, switching masks and lovers with every twist of fortune.
Rage surged through Brendon, blinding and consuming. Then—darkness. His knees buckled. The world spun. And he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Blood still trickling down the back of his neck, “Brendon!” Katie cried out as his body slumped against hers, far too heavy for her to hold up.
Panicked but determined, she let herself fall with him, bracing the impact as best she could, desperate to shield him from further harm. They were lucky—already on hospital grounds. A few nurses spotted the commotion and sprang into action, shouting for assistance as a stretcher was rushed in.
In a blur of movement, Brendon was lifted onto it and wheeled through the ER doors, fading from view.
Katie, trembling and breathless, fumbled for her phone. Her fingers barely obeyed her as she dialed. The moment the line connected, she burst out, “Yolanda! Get to the hospital—Brendon collapsed!”
“What?” Yolanda’s voice tightened, but only just. “What happened?”
“He hit his head and passed out. He’s in the emergency room now,” Katie explained, her voice cracking under the weight of the moment.
“Is it serious? How did it happen?” Yolanda asked, her words quick—but her expression remained calm.
At that exact moment, Yolanda lounged on a velvet sofa, her legs stretched elegantly across a silk throw, a half-empty glass of wine poised at her lips. Her brows furrowed just enough to show concern. On the surface, she sounded worried. But beneath that polished mask, there was only calculation. If Brendon’s condition turned grim—if he lost his mobility or mind—she wouldn’t grieve. She wouldn’t even hesitate. She’d vanish without a second thought.
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