After I Saw His Mole, I Dumped Him

Chapter 2

When I forced my eyes open again, I was staring at a stark hospital ceiling.

The nurse on duty told me that the hotel's front‑desk clerk had called emergency services for me. They were terrified I was going to die right there on their lobby floor.

After I wired the money back to the clerk who had kindly covered my initial medical intake bill, I grabbed my phone.

With a numb finger, I hit send on a mass text to family and friends, announcing that the wedding was officially off.

Just a few minutes later, Brandon burst through the ward door, bristling with unbridled rage.

"Chloe, what the hell did you mean by that text you just sent?" he barked, his voice sharp with irritation as he marched to my bedside. "You really think I'm just going to cave in and beg?"

I drew in a slow, agonizing breath, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm not being dramatic, Brandon. You're in love with Natalie, aren't you? I'm just setting you both free."

Brandon choked on his words. For a split second, a flash of genuine guilt flickered across his face.

"Stop being so impulsive," he muttered, looking away. "Natalie and I… it was just a fling, that's all."

The more he talked, the bolder his voice became, shifting the blame entirely onto me.

"This whole mess is your fault anyway. You're always working nonstop. She's the only one who's actually been there for me lately."

Every word out of his mouth accused me of not being caring enough.

But how could I ever forget why I had been swamped with work all these years? It was because he had begged me to build his company with him.

To help him get his business off the ground, I had walked away from a guaranteed spot in graduate school at a top university. I turned down a direct master's program, and I turned my back on the family fortune I was meant to inherit.

We had promised to build our future side by side, but Brandon had made a habit of dumping every messy, unwanted problem at my feet.

I was the one who drank at corporate dinners until my stomach literally ruptured, all just to lock in a crucial investor. I was the one who secretly begged my parents to pull strings behind the scenes to keep his company afloat. Pulling all‑nighters until three or four in the morning to hammer out deals had become my daily routine.

Meanwhile, what was he doing? He would vanish for ten days at a time, hiding behind the generic excuse of a 'business trip.'

Back then, I never questioned him. I truly believed he was running all over the country to grow our business. Now, every piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. Every single 'business trip' was just him sneaking off to meet Natalie.

I raised a trembling hand and jabbed a finger at the door. "Get out. I don't need you here."

Brandon pressed his lips into a thin, stubborn line. Instead of leaving, he walked silently over to my bedside and pulled up a chair.

"I'm not leaving."

He pulled a fresh apple out of his pocket and a paring knife, beginning to peel it in quiet, steady strokes.

It was the same thing he had done for me years ago, the first time I was hospitalized with a raging fever. Back then, he did it out of love. This time, it was nothing but guilt eating away at him.

Brandon pressed the peeled apple into my palm, his demeanor suddenly sweet, eager to please. "I was out of line earlier tonight. I'm sorry."

When I stayed completely silent, his patience snapped.

He jammed the paring knife into my hand in frustration. "If you're still mad, just stab me to let it out! I won't stop you."

I couldn't be bothered to bicker with him over this pathetic, dramatic act. I simply used the knife to cut the apple into small chunks.

I had barely popped one bite into my mouth when Brandon dropped another outrageous demand, pushing his luck even further.

"I already said I'm sorry," he said casually. "Now, you need to go apologize to Natalie."

The apple froze in my throat.

"She's in the emergency room right now," Brandon continued, without a hint of shame. "The doctor said if you had kicked her any harder, you would have permanently damaged her uterus."

I knew it all along. His sudden kindness was laced with poison.

The sweet, crisp taste of the fruit in my mouth turned thick and bitter, sticking to my tongue like ash.

"Brandon, I'm not kidding about calling off the wedding."

His brows pulled together slowly, a dark, heavy frown settling across his face.

"But you were the one who started the fight. If you apologize to her, my dad will perform your mom's heart‑bypass surgery this month. Personally."

I stared at him, my heart turning to ice. I had brought up my mother's urgent surgery to Brandon countless times before.

Every single time, he had told me his father was a prestigious chief surgeon who couldn't just jump the waiting list, claiming it would ruin his professional reputation. Not even when I offered to pay double the medical fees did he budge.

But now, simply to force me to bow down and humble myself to Natalie, he threw his father's services out like it was nothing. He didn't even blink.

The person he was always willing to bend the rules for had never been me. It was her.

But his little threat didn't work on me anymore. My dad had already secretly pulled his own strings to line up a world‑renowned overseas specialist. We had already scheduled the procedure for right after the planned wedding date anyway.

I shook my head, my voice dead calm. "I will never apologize to her. Not as long as I live."

Brandon shot straight to his feet, the legs of his chair letting out a loud, harsh screech against the hospital linoleum.

"Fine!" he sneered, glaring down at me. "I'll just see how long you can keep this arrogant act up!"