Chapter 54
54:
Brendon studied Christina in silence, feeling his resolve waver just a little. “Apologize to them,” he declared, feigning magnanimity. “Maybe I’ll let this go. You can stay—at least until you find a place.”
Brendon felt he was offering Christina a lifeline, expecting gratitude or at least a flicker of humility.
Christina gave nothing away. She stared straight at him, her face unreadable.
The lively warmth in her eyes had faded, replaced by something tangled and distant.
Anxiety pricked at Brendon, a growing unease winding through him—like he was on the verge of losing something vital, and powerless to stop it. Questions tangled inside his chest, clawing for a way out, and before he could rein himself in, the words burst from him. “Christina, about that night—”
Christina snapped him down with frosty precision. “Save it. You were right all along—I’ve got a line of men just dying to buy me a house.” With an indifferent shrug, she tried to mask the ache tightening in her chest.
Outwardly, she seemed unruffled, but inside, the sting was sharp and real. Anyone would be hurt after baring their soul, only to watch it tossed aside like garbage. Maybe she was stronger than most, but that didn’t mean she didn’t bleed. Her heart wasn’t made of stone—it was flesh and nerves, raw and breakable.
Her dismissive bravado was gasoline on Brendon’s fire. “Oh, so you’re admitting it now? Had you cheated on me the whole time during our marriage? Running around behind my back?” he spat the accusation through clenched teeth, his anger barely held in check.
Christina arched an eyebrow, a mocking smile flickering on her lips. “Think whatever you want. I couldn’t care less about how you view me.”
Her indifference only made Brendon’s blood boil. He balled his fists, knuckles whitening as he forced himself not to lose control.
𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖: gⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧿ⅽ𝗈𝗺
“I’m warning you—this is your last chance. Explain yourself, or I’ll—”
Christina cut him off, her tone chillingly distant. “Explain what, exactly? I don’t owe you anything. My life, my rules. I don’t answer to anyone, least of all you.”
Unfazed, Christina pulled out her phone, her gaze turning playful. “But hey, since you’re all dying to know about my so-called rich admirers, why don’t I just show you how ‘generous’ they really are?” Christina unlocked her phone and, with a devil-may-care grin, tapped Davina’s number. She fully expected her friend to help her.
Out of this mess by answering the call and playing along. But instead, the line went dead—Davina’s phone was switched off.
Katie noticed immediately, her lips curling into a smirk. “What’s wrong? Your sugar daddies cut you off the second you needed money?”
Yolanda watched, masking her satisfaction behind a gentle, pitying tone. “Christina, it’s okay. You don’t have to lie just to save face.”
A sly grin curved across Christina’s lips as she suddenly thought of Dylan.
Katie’s scorn cut through the room. “What the hell are you smirking at? Don’t you have anything better to do than loiter here? Maybe you should start worrying about where you’ll be sleeping tonight! If it weren’t for the Dawsons putting up with you all these years, you’d have been starving in a gutter somewhere! You worthless leech!” Her voice dripped with malice.
Christina ignored Katie, calmly dialing Dylan’s number as she locked eyes with Yolanda. “Take it easy, Yolanda. I wouldn’t fight you for Brendon even if you paid me—he’s not even fit to carry my man’s shoes.”
The taunt landed squarely, knocking the air from Brendon’s lungs and leaving his pride in tatters. His fists curled at his sides, knuckles pale with rage. What the hell made her so sure her so-called man was better than him? How dare she claim he wasn’t worthy to carry her man’s shoes?
Brendon wasn’t alone in his outrage. Joselyn’s face twisted with fury, righteous indignation blazing in her eyes. To her, Brendon was flawless—her pride and joy. Hearing Christina toss him aside like yesterday’s trash, comparing him to some random sugar daddy, was beyond infuriating.
“That’s bullshit!” Joselyn screeched, stabbing a trembling finger in Christina’s direction. “It’s those filthy sugar daddies of yours who should be begging for the privilege of carrying my son’s shoes!”
The commotion filled the air just as Dylan picked up. He didn’t hear Christina’s voice at first—just the shrill, furious shouting in the background. He frowned, glancing down to confirm the caller ID. Christina’s name blinked on his screen. A moment later, her laughter drifted through the line—carefree, mocking, and utterly unbothered by the chaos exploding around her.
“Careful, Mrs. Dawson,” Christina purred, her lips curling into a lazy smirk. “If you get any more worked up, we’ll need to call you an ambulance. I’d hate for all that pent-up rage to fry your poor, overworked heart.”
Christina’s voice slipped into a syrupy, mocking falsetto as she aimed her next words straight at the phone. “Darling! Are you listening?”
Dylan blinked, momentarily startled. A traitorous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He smothered the surge of joy bubbling up, molding his reply into a deadpan, “Mhm.”
The flat grunt slipped out automatically, clipped and almost bored. Only after it hung in the air did he realize—he was supposed to play the doting lover, not some cold bystander.
Christina dialed up the theatrics. Her whine dripped with faux sadness. “Poor helpless me just got thrown out in the street, all alone. Won’t my sweet, generous boyfriend buy me a house? Please?”
Christina doubted she could really gross them out. She barely kept a straight face, the sheer cringe nearly making her gag.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Brendon—his face blotchy, fists trembling, barely containing the urge to explode.
Ordinarily, that kind of baby-voiced simpering would make Dylan want to hurl. If anyone else had tried it, he’d have recoiled in disgust. But somehow, coming from Christina, it felt like a live wire humming right through his chest. Instead of revulsion, a light, fluttery happiness bubbled up inside him. He could picture her perfectly—those big, dramatic puppy eyes, the over-the-top pout, the sly glimmer of mischief sparkling in her gaze. Every ridiculous syllable felt like a teasing caress, sending a wave of warmth pulsing through his veins.
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