Chapter 55 No Longer Important
Sloane's POV
Responsible? His so-called responsibility was to show up as some belated savior after I'd been humiliated by his father and bullied by his childhood sweetheart?
Just then, his phone rang at the worst possible moment, shattering the fake calm in the hospital room.
Jared's face darkened the second he saw who was calling, and he answered with clear irritation. "What now?"
Keira's hysterical crying immediately came through from the other end. Even from a distance, I could clearly hear her aggrieved and venomous accusations.
"Jared, my face hurts so much. Are you really not going to care about me anymore? I'm all alone here, I'm so scared..."
I crossed my arms leisurely, leaning against the headboard, like I was watching a terrible play.
I waited for him to comfort her, waited for him to say that familiar line: "Stop it, I'll be right there."
However, Jared just listened, his expression growing darker and darker. Finally, he coldly cut off Keira's crying. "If you're scared, call yourself a car or phone your family."
With that, he hung up without mercy.
Keira's crying stopped abruptly, leaving only the busy tone on the other end.
He turned around and saw me looking at him with a half-smile. Looking somewhat uncomfortable, he explained, "She's been spoiled by her family."
I didn't respond, just lowered my eyes to look at my bandaged elbow. This clumsy attempt to distance himself was truly laughable.
Jared drove me back to the villa.
The whole way, the car was terrifyingly quiet, with only the monotonous rumble of the engine.
He tried to say something several times but swallowed his words each time.
It wasn't until the car stopped at the villa entrance that he spoke in a hoarse voice, "Let me walk you up."
I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open, but instead of heading inside, I turned back to look at him, my tone flat. "Aren't you going to check on your injured Keira? She's all alone, she must be very scared."
My words were like a thorn, precisely piercing his most sensitive nerve at that moment.
Jared's expression instantly darkened. His fingers gripping the steering wheel turned white with force. "I told you, that was just an accident."
"Really?" I laughed lightly. "An accident important enough that you had to abandon me, your 'wife,' to defend her first?"
He was left speechless, pain and regret churning in his eyes, finally turning into a heavy promise. "Sloane, I promise, I won't have any unnecessary contact with her again."
I looked at him, at that belated, attempted sincerity in his eyes, but my heart was filled with cold mockery.
Too late, Jared.
I don't need it anymore.
The next day, I slept until late morning.
Jared had left at some point. The space beside me was empty, with only a glass of still-warm milk on the nightstand.
I had no appetite. I changed into casual clothes and was about to go downstairs when the doorbell rang.
It was Hannah.
"Oh my God, what happened to you?" As soon as Hannah came in and saw the gauze on my elbow and my limping leg, she cried out dramatically.
She dumped the gift boxes she was carrying onto the entryway cabinet and rushed over to support me. "Who did this? Did that bastard Jared abuse you again?"
Hannah didn't live with Jared, so it was normal she didn't know about last night.
"It wasn't him." I shook my head and pulled her to sit on the sofa. "Just a small accident."
Hannah looked me over suspiciously, clearly not believing me, but she didn't press further. Instead, she opened a box like she was presenting a treasure—inside was a limited edition cake from the dessert shop she always went to.
"To help you recover," she said, cutting a big piece with a fork and handing it to me. "Oh, and let me show you something good, guaranteed to lift your spirits."
As she spoke, she unlocked her phone, opened a photo, and held it in front of me.
In the photo, Keira sat pale-faced in a wheelchair, one leg in a thick cast, elevated high. She looked even more miserable than when she was crying yesterday.
I froze. "This is..."
"Karma!" Hannah laughed gleefully, her eyebrows dancing as she gossiped with me. "I heard she was waiting for a car outside the restaurant last night when a gang on motorcycles robbed her. They thought she was screaming too loud, so they smashed her leg with a baseball bat! Isn't that something? It's like heaven has eyes!"
Looking at Keira's resentful and pained face in the photo, I felt no sympathy, not even the satisfaction Hannah was talking about.
Before I could say anything, my phone rang urgently.
Seeing the name on the caller ID, I instinctively frowned.
As soon as I answered, Isabelle's furious questioning came through, her voice piercingly shrill.
"Sloane! Did you hire someone to break Keira's leg? I warned you to behave yourself, and you dare use such vicious methods! Have you lost your mind!"
I was amused by her twisted accusations. "You think I'm capable of that?"
"Don't play dumb with me! If not you, then who? Jared embarrassed her in public because of you—you must be holding a grudge! Sloane, let me tell you, don't think you can do whatever you want just because you've grown some wings. If you dare ruin the relationship between the Winslow family and the Lancasters, I won't let you off!"
Her shrieking voice was like salt being rubbed into an open wound.
Before I could respond, Hannah snatched my phone and fired back at full force.
"Mrs. Winslow, do you have some kind of persecution complex? Your daughter can't keep her man, gets into catfights outside and gets beaten up, and you have the nerve to call and blame someone else? Sloane's been home recovering and hasn't gone anywhere—does she have the ability to be in two places at once? Instead of going crazy here, why don't you properly discipline that precious daughter of yours so she doesn't go out and embarrass herself again!"
After Hannah finished, without waiting for a response, she decisively hung up. The world instantly became peaceful.
She shoved the phone back into my hand and poked my forehead in frustration.
"You're just too nice, that's why they all walk all over you," she said, looking at me with puffed cheeks but a tone full of concern. "Sloane, listen to me—from now on, whoever dares bully you like this, you give it back to them double! You're not alone, you have me."
Looking at her face flushed red from defending me, that frozen lake in my heart finally felt a trace of warmth.
I nodded and softly said, "Okay."
Yes, Hannah was right.
The old Sloane who compromised and sought peace had died that night at the Montclair family home.
From now on, I would never let anyone bully me again.