Chapter 37

Chapter 37:
He had already made up his mind to make things official with Vivian once his divorce was finalized.
But then there was Millie…
Just as the thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed against the desk.
The clock had just struck twenty minutes past nine.
He reached for his phone, and there it was—Millie’s name lit up on the screen.
Brandon furrowed his brow without realizing it.
Nearby, Vivian caught sight of Millie’s name flashing on his phone. Her expression flickered—first with confusion, then with something harder to identify.
“Brandon?” she said gently, sensing his hesitation.
He blinked, pulling himself back into the moment.
Just minutes earlier, Vivian had shown him the trending headlines about her supposed late-night visit. And now, Millie was calling.
Was Millie calling to confront him? To throw those stories in his face? With a small frown, Brandon tapped “Decline.” But before he could even set the phone down, the screen lit up again. Millie.
Her persistence irritated him.
“Are you not going to pick up?” Vivian asked softly.
He declined the call once more, then switched his phone to “Do Not Disturb.”
“No need,” he said, his voice final.
Vivian opened her mouth as if to protest but thought better of it. She nodded slowly, her face a careful mix of concern and restraint. But as she lowered her gaze, a brief spark of satisfaction flashed in her eyes.
She had planned this.
She’d walked him through the gossip, showed him the video clips, and repeated just enough of Millie’s possible reactions to ensure he wouldn’t answer.
“Let’s go. It’s getting late,” Brandon said, reaching for his coat and helping her to her feet.
gⱯlnσν𝓮ℓs﹒𝚌o𝗺 is where stories live
They stepped into the private elevator reserved for Watson Group’s top floor. Paparazzi cameras clicked as the doors closed behind them.
Far from them, across the city, Millie was being wheeled out of an ambulance.
Blood seeped from her forehead, streaking across the stretcher sheet. Her body was limp.
The hospital corridor spun in and out of her vision, the harsh ceiling lights flashing by.
The sounds around her blurred together, mixing with the tense voice of a woman in uniform calling out, “I’ve called her husband twice, and he’s not answering. What should we do? Keep calling? What if he still doesn’t pick up?”
Another voice responded, “Did you see that door? The whole thing’s crushed. It’s not just a bump to her head. We don’t know what else is going on inside. Prioritize treatment. Keep trying him!”
“Got it!”
The noise grew louder, and Millie drifted once again.
The sharp scent of the hospital filled her nose as she floated between alertness and a foggy haze, catching snatches of conversation she couldn’t quite piece together. Then, a voice she recognized—Alexia’s.
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