Chapter 751
Chapter 751:
Lately, the caregiver had been lost in anxious thoughts. Because she was constantly by Vivian’s side, people probably assumed she was involved in the whole scheme, especially Vivian’s fake illness.
Coming from Flaville, the caregiver knew her word wouldn’t mean anything if she tried to plead her innocence.
When it came to Vivian faking terminal cancer, the caregiver didn’t think Vivian could keep up the act much longer. Maybe things seemed fine now, but in a few months, when Vivian was still alive while she wasn’t supposed to be, the truth would come out for everyone to see.
At first, the woman thought of herself as just another caregiver sent by the facility, simply there to make some money and do her job. The paycheck was certainly generous. But witnessing Vivian’s manipulations up close filled her with fear. She worried she might never get a chance to spend the money she’d earned. Vivian would probably pin everything on her in the end, making her the perfect scapegoat.
And it wasn’t just Vivian—Brandon had started to act unhinged, too. The idea of being left at Brandon’s mercy made her blood run cold.
She realized she had to act. The caregiver needed to gather proof to save herself, and if she couldn’t manage that, her only option would be to run. Fleeing was the absolute last option, since the reach of Brandon, Myron, and their circle stretched far beyond the country. If she ended up taking the fall, there could be an international manhunt for her.
With those worries churning in her mind, the caregiver clutched her recording pen tighter and quietly wedged it in the crack of the door. She kept her movements minimal, terrified that Vivian might catch on. There was no guarantee she’d get anything incriminating, but she had to try.
Inside, Vivian was still completely unaware, chatting away on the phone, wrapped up in her own conversation.
Elsewhere, in an apartment just next to the Watson Group’s headquarters, Brandon lay sprawled across a wide bed. Faint grooves on the bedpost showed something, or someone, had been bound there before. In his hand, he fiddled with a tanzanite stone, watching it glimmer under the light.
Find the magic on gⱯlnσν𝓮𝓁s․𝒸𝗼𝗺
He couldn’t shake the memory of the day he’d tied Millie to that bed, the guilt and regret forcing his eyes shut.
He felt a steady, dull pulse of pain in his calf. Myron hadn’t held back during any of their confrontations. The injury was originally only a dislocation, but the surrounding tissue was damaged, and recovery would take a while. Earlier today, he’d taken another kick. After seeing the doctor and getting the area treated again, the pain still refused to fade.
Then, out of nowhere, Brandon thought of the scars hidden under Millie’s scarf. Millie must have suffered plenty herself. Myron claimed those scars were self-inflicted. She’d been mentally struggling for a long time.
Brandon couldn’t get it out of his mind. He opened the nearby drawer and pulled out Millie’s psychiatric records. Flipping through the pages, a heavy sadness settled over him.
That was when he spotted the attending physician’s name—Rita Carpenter. He remembered seeing someone by that name at the clinic, her ID badge confirming it. After double-checking, Brandon realized that Rita really was the woman he’d crossed paths with before.