Chapter 128

Chapter 128

Chase rose to his feet, his frame even more imposing than Brandon's.

He slipped one hand into his pocket, his expression composed. "Ms. Anderson is a valued partner of Vista Apparel. Both professionally and personally, it's appropriate for me to check in on her. You, on the other hand, Mr. Martinez—as her ex-husband—seem somewhat out of place here."

The emphasis on "ex-husband" landed like a precision strike on Brandon's rawest nerve.

Brandon's eyes narrowed, the air pressure around him dropping sharply. "What happens between Harper and me is none of your damn business."

"None of my business?" Chase let out a low laugh, his gaze sweeping over Brandon's rigid face with sharp, knowing clarity. "Mr. Martinez, since you're well aware you've been cut loose, you might want to show a little grace."

Brandon's hands clenched into fists, veins bulging along the backs of his hands.

Chase's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced at the screen, then turned to Harper with a slight nod. "Something's come up at the base. I'll head out. Ms. Anderson, get some rest. The work can wait."

"Take care." Harper nodded.

Chase moved toward the door, his hand gripping the handle. Then he paused, glancing back at Brandon's iron-gray face.

"Oh, and Mr. Martinez." Chase's lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile. "I hear White Group's been making quite a few moves lately. Ms. White's been shopping around for investors. Do me a favor and give her my regards—after all, you two go way back."

The comment landed like a slap across Brandon's face.

The door clicked shut.

The air in the hospital room seemed to freeze.

Brandon stared at the closed door, his chest heaving violently.

After a long moment, he turned his head to see Harper calmly opening a takeout container.

"You two seem awfully close." Brandon's voice was tight, seething with barely restrained jealousy. "How long have you even known him? And he's already running over here playing the concerned gentleman?"

Harper's hand, holding a spoon, paused mid-motion.

She looked up, her gaze cold and detached—as if she were observing an unreasonable stranger.

"Mr. Rodriguez is my business partner. His visit is perfectly reasonable."

"Just a business partner?" Brandon took a step closer, bracing his hands on either side of the bed, trapping her in his shadow. "Harper, are you seriously going to tell me he doesn't have other intentions?"

"What if he does? What if he doesn't?" Harper met his eyes head-on, her tone utterly flat. "Brandon, let me remind you—we're divorced. I'm single. I have every right to see whoever I want."

"Harper!" Brandon's voice cracked, his eyes churning with frustration and anguish. "These past few days, we've been civil. I thought things were thawing between us. I thought you were at least willing to give me a chance to make things right…"

"You've misunderstood something." Harper cut him off, her gaze clear and almost cruelly composed. "I didn't kick you out. I didn't pick fights with you. That's because I didn't have the energy—not because I still have feelings for you. I can speak to you civilly because I have manners. That's all."

Brandon froze in place.

He stared at her expressionless face, his heart feeling as though an invisible hand had crushed it to pieces.

She wouldn't even give him her hatred anymore.

 

The next morning, a sudden commotion erupted in the hallway outside the room.

The chaotic clatter of high heels, accompanied by the rolling sound of a wheelchair, shattered the hospital's quiet.

"Slow down, be gentle—my foot hurts so much…" Luna's syrupy, tearful voice penetrated the door, clear as day.

Harper was reviewing design drafts on her tablet. She didn't even glance up.

Brandon, seated on the sofa typing on his laptop, froze mid-keystroke. His brow furrowed sharply.

Two minutes later, there was a knock at the door. A young nurse poked her head in, looking somewhat uncomfortable as she addressed Brandon. "Mr. Martinez, the patient in the room next door—Ms. White—twisted her ankle at the hospital entrance. Soft tissue injury. She's in a lot of pain and keeps crying out for you. Would you… like to go see her?"

Luna had somehow found out that Brandon had been staying at the hospital these past few days, taking care of Harper. She'd been consumed with jealousy.

So she'd staged a dramatic ankle injury at the hospital entrance, made a big show of checking herself in, and specifically requested the room right next to Harper's.

Brandon's expression darkened completely.

He knew exactly what Luna was playing at. He'd always seen through these cheap tactics—he'd just been too indifferent to care, and sometimes, out of a misguided sense of obligation, he'd even helped her out.

But now? Now he just felt irritated.

"Tell her to see a doctor." Brandon's response was ice-cold.

The nurse retreated awkwardly.

But the noise next door didn't stop.

Luna's crying grew louder, now accompanied by the sound of objects being thrown. "Brandon… why won't Brandon come see me… it hurts so much…"

The voice drifted through the walls in broken sobs, like an annoying fly buzzing around his head.

Brandon snapped his laptop shut in frustration. Instinctively, he glanced toward Harper on the bed.

Harper remained exactly as she'd been, her finger scrolling across the screen, as if she hadn't heard a single thing from next door.

"Harper." Brandon stood, his Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke with a tone that carried a hint of both testing and compromise—one he hadn't even noticed himself. "She got hurt because of me… I'll just go check on her real quick, send her away, and come right back."

He was trying to explain. Trying to prove he was only dealing with a nuisance—not because he had feelings for Luna.

Harper finally looked up from her screen.

She studied the man before her—furrowed brow, trying to strike some impossible balance between two women—and the corner of her mouth lifted in the faintest trace of mockery.

"Mr. Martinez, do as you please." Her voice was calm, devoid of warmth. "And close the door on your way out. It's a bit noisy."

Brandon felt a sharp pang in his chest, but Luna's shrill crying from next door was unbearable.

He clenched his jaw and turned, walking out of the room.

Before long, the crying next door quieted down.

"Brandon, you finally came… I thought you weren't going to care about me anymore…"

"How did this happen? What did the doctor say?"

The walls weren't particularly soundproof. Fragments of their conversation drifted through, faint but audible.

Harper leaned back against the pillows and set down her tablet.

She listened quietly to the muffled voices from the other side of the wall, her expression utterly blank.

This was his version of winning her back.

He could stay by her bedside for two days and two nights—and then walk away without hesitation the moment Luna shed a few tears.

He would never learn to say no to Luna's emotional manipulation. He would always remain tangled in the web of their so-called "shared history."

Harper turned her gaze toward the window.

The sky was overcast, and tiny snowflakes had begun to fall.