Chapter 277

The knock on the hospital room door made her furrow her brow, and both she and Aubree turned toward the entrant. Their expressions soured instantly upon recognizing the newcomers. lit was Cameron and Miranda. What kind of drama were these two brewing now?

Miranda, catching sight of Brielle’s pale and weakened state, could barely suppress the urge to hex her with every vile curse she knew. Why hadn’t that damn driver finished the job? Brielle alive was nothing but a calamity.

Brielle’s face turned icy. “What brings you here?”

Cameron closed the door behind him, his face etched with fatigue. Tracking down Brielle had been no small feat. “Brielle, do you have any idea what Max is up to? He’s targeting the Haywoods. Every single client has been poached, and partners are cutting ties left and right. In a matter of days, the Haywoods will be bankrupt.”

“And what’s that to me?” Brielle’s tone was indifferent as she aimed to continue with her oatmeal, the very picture of unconcern.

Fuming. Miranda advanced, ready to send Brielle’s bowl flying.

A sharp look crossed Brielle’s eyes as she met Miranda’s gaze, “Try it, I dare you.”

Miranda recoiled, fear flickering in her eyes, but remembering their mission, she clenched her teeth. “If you hadn’t shamelessly thrown yourself at Max, why would he have targeted us? He’s after us because of you. You need to fix this mess.”

“Need to?” Brielle couldn’t help but chuckle at the entitlement in Miranda’s voice, leisurely continuing her meal.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re here to beg, right? Is that how you ask for favors?”

Miranda shook with anger, her face a kaleidoscope of fury. Before she could act on her impulse to spill the bowl, Brielle preempted her, flipping the soup right onto Miranda’s head.

Dumbstruck, Miranda felt the thick soup slide down her cheeks.

“That’s for the coffee you threw, Miranda,” Brielle said, accepting a napkin from Aubree and meticulously wiping her fingers.

With her face smeared in soup, Miranda’s lips turned an ugly shade of blue.

Cameron, who had been silent, stopped any further outburst and stared coldly at Brielle. He knew well before coming that Brielle would not be inclined to help the Haywoods. It was time for his trump card.

“Brielle, what about Grandpa if the family goes under? His health is already failing. He needs constant care at the sanatorium. If he hears about the bankruptcy, how long do you think he’ll last? The Haywood clan might have turned their backs on you, but Grandpa has always been there for you with an open heart. Do you want to be responsible for his demise, and live with that guilt forever?”

14:35 Brielle’s lashes quivered, her grip on the blanket tightening unconsciously. Grandpa Julian had indeed always been her champion, the only one opposing the idea of bringing Lillian from the orphanage into the Haywood home, claiming it wasn’t fair to Brielle. But at the time, Brielle, considering the bond with Lillian, had convinced Julian, and thus Lillian came to stay.

Since then. Julian had always been by her side, spoiling her with little gifts until he had that fall, which led to years of slumber and subsequently, a life confined to the sanatorium, his health deteriorating day by day. Scarcely any of the Haywoods visited him, leaving him in his solitude. Brielle hadn’t set foot in the sanatorium since learning about Lillian’s affair with Spencer – Julian adored Spencer, believing he would bring her happiness. And she was particularly bad at lying to such a loving elder, so avoidance had been her tactic.

Now, however, the Haywoods were using Grandpa Julian to strong–arm her once again.

Cameron, seeing a shift in her, pressed on. “Grandpa doesn’t have many years left. He’s been comfortable in the sanatorium. Do you really want to disrupt his peace, burden him with the family’s troubles?”

A wave of nausea hit Brielle, revolted by their attitude. Julian was their kin as well, yet it seemed she was the only one who cared for him now.

Brielle knew that if she stayed silent, the Haywoods, true to form, would waste no time involving Julian.

Her grip on the blanket grew fierce, the veins on her hands standing out as a testament to her rising anger.