Chapter 1330:
Melany said nothing. When she finished bandaging his arm, she straightened and said simply, “You should go now.”
“I’m hungry,” he said in a subdued voice. “My stomach hurts, Melany.”
“You already destroyed my kitchen,” she replied, taking a loaf of bread from the cupboard and holding it out to him. “Out.”
Deandre had no choice but to comply. He rose, walked to the door, and stepped outside—the words he had wanted to say dissolving as it closed behind him.
The silence that followed stretched on until the faint sound of a car pulling away reached Melany’s ears. She leaned back against the door and slowly sank down to the floor.
Her emotions were far from settled. That man—fully grown now, carrying a quietly dangerous pull—was exactly the kind of person she knew she should have kept her distance from. She reminded herself firmly that she could not fall into the same pattern again.
With a slow breath, Melany pushed herself to her feet, resolved not to make the same mistake twice.
The car had started to pull away—then slowed and stopped nearby. Deandre had no intention of going home. He stepped out, leaned against the car, lit a cigarette, and let his gaze drift across the face of the apartment building.
His phone rang.
“Sir, Melany is booked on an early flight to Eshea tomorrow,” the voice on the other end reported.
𝘐ո𝘁𝖾𝘯𝘴𝖾 𝗿o𝘮a𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘰ո g𝗮l𝗇𝗈𝗏𝘦𝘭𝘀.cо𝗺
She was trying to leave—to put herself beyond his reach again as quickly as possible.
A faint, bitter smile curved at the corner of his lips. “Upgrade her seat,” he said. “And put it next to mine.”
“Yes, sir,” came the immediate reply.
At the hospital, Carlos finally began to surface after a long, painful night, his mother at his side until he regained consciousness.
As his memory returned, he recalled the weight of the man pinning him down with overwhelming force. Despite years of training and countless opponents, he had never faced eyes as cold and absolute as those. It wasn’t ordinary anger—it was something far more ruthless, as though Carlos himself had been entirely beneath consideration.
“Mom,” he asked, his voice still weak, “have the police identified that man? What are they planning to do?”
“His surname is Owen,” his mother replied through clenched teeth. “A major figure, from what I’ve gathered. Since when does money excuse violence? I’ve already looked into it—what he did could put him behind bars for years. The lawyer says we can sue for substantial compensation. He thought he could leave us with nothing? We’ll see who ends up ruined.”
Carlos lay quietly as he listened.
Then the hospital door opened, and two uniformed officers stepped inside.
“Mr. Hilton,” the taller one said, presenting his badge. “We’re from the precinct. We need to verify a few details.”
Carlos’s mother immediately moved in front of him. “My son just regained consciousness—he’s in this condition, and you want to question him? What about the person who did this to him?”
.
.
.