Chapter 17 Have You Been Hurt
Sloane's POV
Hannah's chest heaved violently with anger. She pointed at the scattered necklace on the ground and the messy table. "Look at this place! She asked Sloane out, flaunted the gifts you gave her right in front of Sloane, insulted her with a check, and told her to get lost! Why don't you ask your precious darling about all this!"
Jared's face grew darker under Hannah's rapid-fire questioning.
He glanced at my tear-stained face, then at the shattered vase on the ground, before his gaze finally returned to Keira, his brows furrowed tightly.
"Keira," his voice turned cold, "why are you here? Why did you meet with Sloane and get physical with Hannah?"
Faced with his questions, Keira's tears flowed even harder.
She cried pitifully, her body swaying as if she might faint at any moment. "I... I didn't... I just wanted to explain to my sister. I was afraid she'd misunderstand us. I didn't know Hannah would suddenly rush out. Jared, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have come back to disturb you."
Here we go again!
I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
This was her specialty—making herself look completely innocent while leaving all the problems for everyone else.
"I'm sorry, Jared, I really didn't mean to." As she spoke, she tried to break free from Hannah's grip and collapse toward Jared again, seeking his protection.
"Stand up straight!" But Hannah held her arm firmly, not letting her get anywhere near Jared. She looked at Keira with disgust, her words sharp as knives. "Keira, drop your disgusting act! Have you no shame?"
"Hannah!" Jared's face completely darkened. He suddenly stood up, stepped forward, and forcefully pulled Hannah's hand away, shielding Keira behind him.
This instinctive protective gesture seemed unconscious even to him.
I watched his tall figure—the harbor I once thought I could rely on for life, now building a sense of security for another woman.
"What are you doing? Still protecting her?" Hannah looked at him in disbelief.
"Enough!" Jared roared, his bloodshot eyes full of irritation and exhaustion.
He looked at Hannah, almost grinding his teeth as he said, "You know Keira has severe depression. She can't handle any more stress! Won't you be satisfied until you drive her to death?"
Depression.
That word again.
As if it were some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card that could make all her malice and scheming seem justified.
Hannah was stunned by his outburst, her eyes immediately reddening. She pointed at Jared, too angry to speak. "You... you..."
So it wasn't that he didn't love—it was that my love, my feelings, had never mattered to him.
Hannah was so angry she laughed.
"Depression? Jared, I'm begging you to go to a psychiatric hospital and see what real patients are like! They don't even have the energy to get out of bed to eat. Their eyes are as empty as stagnant water. Where would they get all this energy and scheming to plot against you every day and frame Sloane?"
Hannah stepped forward, staring Jared down. Her voice wasn't loud, but each word cut deep. "She's using this as a shield, playing you like a fool! You think you're protecting a patient, but you're actually enabling a vicious liar!"
She then turned her attack on Keira hiding behind Jared, her eyes full of contempt and disgust. "Keira, using other people's sympathy to achieve your own goals—you're the most despicable woman I've ever met!"
These words were too blunt, too sharp, like a knife tearing apart the fragile facade Keira had carefully maintained.
She couldn't keep up the act anymore. Covering her face, she let out a sharp cry and ran toward the street across the road.
"Keira!" Jared's face changed dramatically. Without thinking, he started to chase after her.
"Stop!" Hannah grabbed him. "What are you chasing her for? She's not going to die!"
Jared shook off her hand and immediately ordered the bodyguard who had followed him, "Follow her! Watch her closely, don't let her do anything stupid!"
The bodyguard obeyed and left.
Hannah looked at Jared's anxious profile and smirked sarcastically. "Brother, if you had any brains, you'd know that people who really want to die find quiet, isolated places, not run into crowded streets where everyone can see them and save them."
"Hannah! Can you stop being so cold-blooded!" Jared suddenly turned around, his bloodshot eyes glaring at her, veins bulging at his temples, clearly furious.
"I'm cold-blooded?" Hannah acted as if she'd heard the biggest joke. "Yes, I'm cold-blooded. I'm not as great as you, willing to ignore your own wife's suffering for a 'patient' who's scheming to wreck your marriage!"
Seeing the siblings about to start arguing in the street again, I felt overwhelmed by exhaustion.
I didn't want to listen anymore, didn't want to watch anymore.
"Stop fighting." I finally spoke, my voice terribly hoarse. "It's all my fault."
The arguing stopped abruptly.
Hannah and Jared both looked at me.
I met Jared's complicated gaze and forced out a smile that looked worse than crying. "I shouldn't have agreed to meet her. It's my fault for causing all this trouble. Please stop fighting."
With that, I turned to leave.
"Sloane." But Jared grabbed my wrist.
His movement was quick, but his grip was gentle, as if afraid of hurting me.
I stopped but didn't turn around.
"You..." His voice lowered, the irritation and anger seemingly extinguished by what I'd just said, leaving only deep exhaustion. "Are you hurt? Did she splash you with hot water?"
He finally remembered that I was a victim too.
I froze, not knowing how to react.
The long-frozen lake in my heart seemed to crack slightly from this sudden concern.
I mocked myself internally.
How pathetic—a little concern and I lose my composure.
I turned to look at him.