The Broken Angel He Claimed

Bennett's Threat

Angela's POV

He didn't say anything. He just looked at me deeply. Then he caught my hand and drew it against his chest. My breath hitched, my whole body frozen under the weight of that moment.

“Angela,” his voice came rough, low enough it barely reached me. "You matter to me. I won't let anyone touch you like that. Not ever."

My heart was racing. His mouth hovered too close, his breath ghosting across my skin. I should have pulled back, put space between us. But I didn't. I couldn't. A part of me didn't even want to.

I didn't even realize my eyes were closing. The world went quiet, like it didn't exist anymore, only the two of us did.

But just then, my phone rang, snapping me out of it.

I grabbed the phone from the table, giving Aaron a quick glance. “I have to take this,” I said softly, almost like an apology.

Aaron simply nodded. I stood up, stepped into the corner of the room, and finally pressed the green button.

“Hello.”

“Is this Ms. Angela?” The woman on the line sounded tense. “This is the hospital. We need to inform you that Mrs. Jones’s condition is very serious, and we need your approval for an emergency surgery right away.”

“We can’t wait any longer. We need to act now,” she added.

Her words hit me like a bolt of lightning. My chest tightened under the weight of what I’d just heard.

“I’ll be right there,” I said.

I slowly walked back to the living room and found Aaron watching me with a puzzled look. “What happened?”

I lowered my head, trying to hide the storm inside me. The hospital’s call kept echoing in my mind. Mom was in critical condition, and they needed my consent for surgery. But how was I supposed to explain all this to Aaron? I didn’t want to burden him again after everything he’d done for me today.

“I just remembered something I need to take care of,” I said quickly, forcing a smile I hoped looked natural. “I have to go. You can use my car to get home.”

Aaron’s gaze sharpened. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said, though even I could hear the nervous tremor in my voice.

“Angela.”

I looked up, meeting his eyes. I fought back the tears burning behind them, praying he wouldn’t notice.

“If you have to go, then go,” he said quietly. “But if you need help—anything—tell me.”

My chest tightened even more. There was so much I wanted to say, but nothing came out. I just nodded.

“Thank you, Aaron,” I whispered before turning and leaving.

***

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Worry for Mom ate at me the whole way. My mind was filled with worst-case scenarios. I tried calling Dad several times, but like before—nothing. Straight to voicemail. Again and again. It felt like I was facing everything alone.

When I arrived, I rushed toward the ICU. A nurse stopped me at the doors.

“Are you the guardian for Mrs. Jones?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Dr. Smith, our surgeon, is waiting to explain the procedure.” She guided me to a consultation room.

Inside, Dr. Smith stood in his white coat, looking at me seriously.

“Miss Jones, we need to perform emergency surgery to save your mother,” he said. “But we need your consent to proceed.”

I swallowed hard. “What do I need to do?”

He briefly explained the procedure and its risks, then handed the paperwork to the nurse beside him. She pointed to a small table in the corner.

“Please sign here.”

I nodded, grabbed the forms, and signed them quickly before handing them back.

“Thank you. We’ll begin preparations right away,” the nurse said as she left with the documents.

I nodded again, my heart pounding as I stared at the ICU doors, silently praying Mom would make it.

In the waiting room, I sank into a chair. Thoughts of Mom flooded my mind—her gentle smile, her warm laugh that always made the house feel alive. And now she was in surgery, fighting for her life.

Without realizing it, tears streamed down my face. I wanted her back so badly. Her encouragement, her reminders to eat—every small moment suddenly felt priceless.

I bit my lip to keep from breaking down completely. After taking a shaky breath, I tried calling Dad again. Still nothing.

Needing a distraction, I scrolled through my phone—until a notification made my breath catch.

“Jones Corporation Faces Bankruptcy Amid Financial Crisis.”

I reread the headline over and over. Failed projects. Investors pulling out. Dad’s company—his pride—standing on the edge of collapse.

My hands trembled. Mom in surgery. Dad’s company falling apart. My entire world was crumbling. How was I supposed to handle this?

Lost in the chaos of my thoughts, I jolted when someone called my name.

“Angela Jones?”

I looked up to see an elegantly dressed woman standing a few steps away. Her presence alone seemed to dominate the room.

“Yes, I’m Angela. Who are you?” I asked, my voice tense.

She gave a faint smile. “My name is Victoria Bennett. It’s good to finally meet.”

My stomach dropped. Bennett. Ian Nathaniel Bennett. Was she related to that jerk? Memories from school flashed—his hands on me, and Aaron dragging him away before anything worse happened.

“What do you want?” I asked, my heart pounding.

Victoria stepped closer, her expression icy. “I’ve heard about my son, Ian. And your friend, the one who dared to leave him bruised and bloodied.”