Chapter 15
Yolanda took a deep breath, her expression hardening. “I’m not pregnant. No need to go to the hospital.”
Charles’s stare cut through the air, icy enough to make the temperature drop.
Yolanda suddenly realized–she’d never really known him at all.
“Whether you go to the hospital isn’t your call,” Charles said, getting in the car first.
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Yolanda stood there silently. For a moment, she felt like the ache was not in her stomach but buried deep in her chest. Years of love didn’t simply disappear, not even after seeing the painful truth.
She slid into the car, her face ashen, and leaned back with her eyes shut.
Jack kept driving. Without Charles saying a word, he steered toward the hospital.
Yolanda had figured the checkup would be fine, nothing special–then her phone buzzed. Ian’s name flashed across the screen.
He said, “Megan was in a car crash. She’s at the hospital, and her husband, Henry, is flipping out, yelling about needing to see you.”
‘Megan? In an accident? She was fine that morning. Yolanda’s heart raced as she blurted out, “Is she okay? Are you hurt?”
“I wasn’t there. She called me, and now she’s unconscious in surgery,” Ian said. He hesitated, then added, “And Henry’s a gambler.”
“The same hospital as this morning? I’m on my way.” Yolanda hung up and turned to Charles. “I need to go to Beloris Hospital. My friend was in an accident.”
The hospital Charles was taking her to was funded by the Sinclair family–miles from Beloris Hospital.
Charles stared down at the papers, slowly turning the pages. A sardonic gleam flickered in his eyes.
Yolanda’s face went even paler. She could read it in his eyes–he thought she’d just made the whole thing up.
Still, she began, “I’m not pregnant. I’ll show you the test results tomorrow. But I have to get to the hospital right now. My friend’s in critical condition. She’s my business partner, and she-”
Charles cut her off, voice icy. “What’s that got to do with me?”
His coldness cut deeper tonight, revealing a side of him she’d never seen before. Now, she finally understood how heartless he truly was.
‘Right. If he had a heart, he wouldn’t have married me, slipped into my bed, then gone straight to someone else without blinking, She sneered silently, wrenching the car door open.
Shocked, Jack slammed on the brakes. “Mrs. Sinclair, that’s way too dangerous!”
Yolanda hit the ground with a thud. Her ankle screamed in pain, and she knew it was going to swell up badly.
“Mrs. Sinclair!” Jack called, but Yolanda didn’t look back. She just limped away.
Charles sat in the car, his eyes razor–sharp and his mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. Cold fury radiated from him.
Jack shifted uncomfortably, picking his words carefully. “Mr. Sinclair, maybe we should-”
Charles slammed the door shut, his face dark. “Leave her.”
Jack went silent. He shifted the car into drive and pulled away.
Yolanda kept walking, her ankle throbbing. Blinding headlights suddenly cut through the dark, and an oncoming car swerved, barely missing her. She froze.
The window rolled down, and a guy yelled, “What’s wrong with you? Wanna die? Fine, but don’t take me with you!” The window snapped shut, and the car peeled off, tires screeching.
A chill ran through Yolanda. She touched her cheek and found tears on her fingertips.
She quickly wiped them away, resolve hardening in her eyes. She wouldn’t shed another tear over Charles–not worth it. She’d only end
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Chapter 13
up despising herself if she did.
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Yolanda walked for half an hour, ignoring the burn in her leg. When she finally reached the hospital entrance, she saw Ian standing
there.
He was tall, masked and hat pulled low, blending into the night. But even so, people passing by couldn’t help glancing back.
He looked up, spotted her, and hurried over. “M–Ms. Grant.”
Yolanda paused, realizing Ian had never called her by name earlier. “Just use my name,” she said quietly. “How’s Megan?”
lan’s eyes dropped to her stiff leg. “You hurt?”
“It’s nothing. Is Henry still causing a scene?”
Ian lowered his lashes, his voice quiet. “Yeah. The hospital called security, and he started fighting them.”
Yolanda felt a twist of guilt–she’d failed as a boss, even more as a friend. She knew Megan was married, but she’d never bothered to ask about her marriage.
She pushed through the pain and kept walking.
Outside the ER. Henry’s angry yell cut through the air. “That witch better die in there. Won’t give me money when I ask, huh? Serves her right!”
Yolanda’s face hardened. Noticing that Ian was about to move, she quickly seized his arm.
He glanced at her small hand gripping his sleeves. His lashes flustered, and he looked away.
Yolanda stood there, watching as security dragged Henry off–looked like they’d toss him out.
She then turned back at lan and said, “Stay out of this kind of drama no matter what. You’ve got fans now. People could dig up dirt on
you.
“If you ever make it big, this could become a major scandal. Get labeled as a troublemaker, and you’ll never shake that reputation.”
Ian hesitated. “But-”
Yolanda cut him off, “No buts. I’m the one handling your career, so you listen.” Her eyes were bright, her lashes still damp from tears she’d shed not long ago. Now, her expression was nothing but pure determination.
With that, she turned the corner and walked up to the security guards.
Henry, still struggling to break free, spotted her and his eyes lit up. ‘Wow, she’s gorgeous,‘ he thought to himself.
Yolanda ignored him, speaking politely to the guards. “Please get him out of here.”
Henry let out a sneer, his face twisting with bitterness. “You’re Megan’s boss, right? She bragged her boss was a pretty piece. Guess you funded that studio on your back, huh? No real boss looks like a freaking temptress.”
D