Chapter 94

Chapter 94:

“Sir, we’re here,” the driver said.

Fifteen minutes later…

The private hospital room was silent except for the slow drip-drip-drip of the IV.

Ashton stayed beside the bed, adjusting the blanket over Mirabelle’s shoulder. Her face was flushed. Her hair stuck to her forehead in damp clumps.

He pulled out his phone and made a call.

Yvaine Carlisle sprinted in almost an hour later, panting, sweat clinging to her temples.

She nearly slammed into the doorframe.

“What the hell happened? Why’s she burning up p>

Mirabelle was asleep, breathing unevenly.

Ashton pointed his chin toward the sitting area. His voice dropped. “She fell in the pool. Fever spiked after we got her out p>

“She fell?” Yvaine had dropped onto the sofa. She shot back up like the cushion had bitten her. “She’s terrified of water. That must’ve scared the shit out of her p>

Ashton narrowed his eyes. “You knew that p>

He’d heard the story from Mirabelle in the car, but her words were disjointed, and there were missing pieces.

He hadn’t pushed her for details, but now he wanted the full story.

Yvaine folded her arms. “Yeah. She’s fine with baths and stuff, but she can’t swim. I mean, she can, but she doesn’t like it. She freezes up near deep water.” She glanced back toward the bed. “How the fuck did she end up in the pool p>

“Isobel Brooke yanked her in p>

Yvaine’s face darkened fast. She jumped to her feet again. “That bitch’s back in Skyline p>

She shoved her sleeves up to her elbows. “Where is she p>

“Sit down.” Ashton’s voice sharpened. “You’re going to tell me exactly what happened back then. I’ll take care of Isobel p>

Yvaine stared at him.

He stared back.

“Fine,” she said a minute later, having lost the staring contest. “Mirabelle and I grew up together. But I got shipped off to Europe for high school. I wasn’t around when Isobel p>

“She started that bullying crap. Mirabelle told me later.” Yvaine laid it all out. Names. Incidents. The kind of details that made Ashton’s jaw twitch.

It matched what Mirabelle had said earlier—same story, just clearer and ten times nastier.

Halfway through, Yvaine got so wound up that she grabbed the water glass from the table and downed two big gulps like she’d been yelling.

“It was straight-up bullying. No question about it. And it wasn’t just Mirabelle. Isobel went after anyone who wouldn’t kiss her arse. Everyone knew. But no one did shit. Mirabelle’s parents took thirty grand and settled out of court. No charges. Just swept it under the rug p>

She slammed the glass down. Water sloshed over the rim.

“And don’t tell me it was about the money—they didn’t need it. They had business ties with the Brookes. Just didn’t want to rock the boat. They treated her like she didn’t matter. She never saw a cent of that payout. Not one damn dollar. Her parents are scum. But what could she do? She was just a kid back then p>

Her voice cracked. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand like she didn’t want him to see.

Ashton reached across the table and nudged the tissue box closer. “Her family treated her like shit. Do you know why p>

Yvaine’s tears vanished on cue. Her voice jumped an octave.

“Treated her like shit? Try worse than a stray. Those two clowns go around in public playing happy family, acting like they dote on all their kids equally. Bullshit. Behind closed doors, they treated Mirabelle like the family’s live-in help. Actually, scratch that—they were nicer to their cleaning staff.” She spat the names out like they tasted foul.

“Franklin Vance kept his distance. Always ‘busy with work,’ like that excused him. Caroline Vance pampered Catherine like she shat gold, and whatever little affection she had left went straight to her precious niece, Serenna Oakley. Meanwhile, Mirabelle got scraps—if that p>

Yvaine shook her head, furious.

Then she answered Ashton’s unspoken question: “I’ve said it before—they must’ve swapped babies at the hospital. It’s the only thing that makes sense. No decent parent treats their own kid like that. I even told Mirabelle to grab some of Frank and Caroline’s hair for a secret DNA test, but she wouldn’t do it. I let it go.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s easier not knowing p>

Ashton didn’t respond. His eyes stayed on the water glass Yvaine had slammed down earlier, imagining it as Frank and Caroline’s faces.

Yvaine sighed.

“You have no idea how much she put up with. She took up boxing just so she could defend herself. And that skank Isobel Brooke? Still has the nerve to show her face back in Skyline. I hope karma parks itself on her doorstep p>

Ashton’s ears buzzed. Yvaine kept talking, but he couldn’t hear her anymore.

She left at some point, and the room fell into dead silence.

Eventually, he moved.

Mirabelle lay still, buried under the white duvet.

Her face had lost its flush—skin pale, mouth slack, dark lashes against her cheeks.

Ashton stepped closer and touched her cheek.

Her skin felt cool again.

He bent down and kissed her forehead.

Then he climbed into the bed, pulled her against his chest, wrapped an arm around her waist, and closed his eyes.

Something tugged at him. Pressure against his chest. He blinked awake. The room was dark. The light from the corridor sliced in under the door but didn’t reach the bed.

His back was stiff from the way he’d been lying.

Mirabelle was half on top of him now, her forehead pressed to the base of his throat.

The IV needle had been removed at some point; there was a faint red mark on the back of her hand where it used to be.

That same hand was now curled into his shirtfront, fingers twitching like she was searching for something.

She kept shifting, restless, her body twisting against his like her clothes were irritating her skin.

Her breathing was uneven. Her forehead and cheeks were damp. Sweat had soaked through her collar. Her eyes were still shut, lashes clamped tight. Her mouth was drawn. Tense.

The heat coming off her was worse than before.