Chapter 167
Chapter 167:
Hilliard came through the doors behind Charla, shoulders slumped, his expression defeated. To the cameras, it looked as though he were escorting her out.
Charla turned. She saw the cameras. She grabbed Hilliard and pulled him into a hug.
Every muscle in his body went rigid. Every instinct screamed at him to shove her away. But he was surrounded — trapped in a cage of flashing lights. A public scene would only feed the narrative she was spinning. As she pressed against him, her lips brushed his ear.
“Smile, darling,” she hissed, her voice a venomous secret against his skin. “Or that fragile little kid might have another accident. A permanent one p>
He went still — not from indecision, but from the cold, calculated checkmate she had just played.
Click. Click. Click.
𝗜𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗻
The photo was taken: Hilliard Holloway reuniting with his fiancée.
Cailin saw the hug. It snapped the last thread of hope she hadn’t even known she was still holding.
Charla descended the steps and passed Cailin, leaning in close enough that her perfume was suffocating.
“You can’t touch me,” Charla whispered, her eyes dancing with malice. “I own this city p>
She stepped into a waiting white limousine and was gone.
Hilliard walked toward Cailin. He looked desperate.
“Cailin, let me explain,” he said, reaching for her. “They destroyed the evidence. The judge p>
Smack.
Cailin slapped him. Hard. Her palm stung from the impact, but the sound was deeply satisfying. The motion cost her — a wave of black dizziness swept through her and she stumbled back, Kegan’s arm catching her instantly.
“You promised,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“I tried,” Hilliard said, touching his cheek.
“Trying isn’t enough!” Cailin screamed. “My goddaughter was poisoned, and you let her walk!” She lowered her voice to a hiss. “Don’t come near us. If the law won’t help, I will find another way p>
She turned to Kegan.
“Do whatever you have to do,” she told him. “Burn it down p>
Kegan smiled — a wolfish, terrifying smile. “With pleasure p>
Cailin got into Kegan’s armored SUV.
Hilliard watched them drive away. He stood alone on the steps, his cheek still stinging, surrounded by reporters shouting questions about wedding dates.
He had lost everything.
Somewhere in the distance, tires screeched against concrete — a high-pitched wail that echoed through the garage. But Cailin couldn’t look. Her world had narrowed to the burning certainty of betrayal, a sharp edge that cut deeper than any physical wound.
The sound of the zipper was too loud in the quiet hospital room. It hissed like a snake, sealing away the few belongings Elia had needed during her stay: a small pink backpack, Mr. Paws shoved face-first against a change of clothes.