After I Saw His Mole, I Dumped Him

Chapter 4

Once they'd finished beating and yelling their anger out at me, I stumbled upright and hobbled toward the hospital, each step sending a sharp jolt of pain up my leg.

The second Dad laid eyes on me in the waiting room, his hand cracked across my face with a stinging slap. "Look at what you've done! You're days away from walking down the aisle. How could you cheat on him? Your mother had a heart attack from all this stress you caused!"

I froze, rooted to the spot, too shocked to move. "Dad, Brandon is the one who cheated. I never—"

Dad shoved his phone right in my face, the screen inches from my nose. "Brandon sent your mother photos of you cheating! Is this supposed to be fake? Call that doctor you mentioned right now. If your mother doesn't pull through, I'm disowning you!"

I looked at the screen. I didn't even recognize the man in those photos. He was a total stranger.

I opened my mouth to argue, but one look at my dad's frantic, worry‑lined face, and I swallowed every last bit of my wronged hurt and frustration down. But right then, my future father‑in‑law wouldn't answer my calls, no matter how many times I dialed.

Dad caught sight of the contact name on my screen. He was sharp, and it clicked instantly: the doctor I'd mentioned earlier was Brandon's dad.

"Why didn't you tell me something this important sooner?" Dad choked out, his voice trembling. "Your future in‑laws already know you betrayed their son. Why would he ever agree to help save your mother now?"

Before I could even process the words, Dad hauled me over to the elevator where Brandon was standing and shoved me hard toward him.

"Apologize to Brandon right now!" he barked.

Brandon rolled his eyes, the absolute picture of a wronged man. "What’s an apology to me anyway? Your daughter was so tough back at the venue, throwing punches left and right. I'm the one who got hurt here, after all."

When Dad heard that, his glare burned even hotter with rage. "How did I raise such a rotten, unfilial daughter like you? Sleeping around behind your fiancé's back and stirring up trouble everywhere you go!"

My throat felt stuffed full of cotton soaked through with bitter, unshed tears. I could barely breathe.

"Dad, that's not what really happened…"

"You still dare to lie to my face!"

Dad's temper flared up again, hotter than before. His hand was already raised to strike, but when he caught sight of the bruises and cuts already blooming on my face from the beating earlier, he froze mid‑air. Slowly, his hand fell back to his side, all that anger melting into a heavy, weary sigh.

"Your mother's still in the operating room, fighting for her life," he muttered, turning his back to me. "Stop acting like a fool!"

Brandon stepped in, his voice soft and calming as he played the peacemaker perfectly. "Uncle, don't be so angry. Don't blame Chloe, okay? She probably just made a stupid mistake in the heat of the moment, that's all. She's just upset, so she's talking nonsense. I don't hold it against her."

He paused, then shifted his gaze to me, his eyes full of wide, mocking sympathy. "Chloe, you just publicly called off the wedding. How can I go beg my dad for a favor at a time like this?"

He was the one who'd faked those photos and framed me, and here he was, putting on a big show of being the innocent victim.

The blood vessels in my eyes burned, red and raw.

"What do you want from me?" I snarled.

"Nothing much," Brandon smiled, easy and cold. "If you sincerely apologize and own up to what you did, I'll go talk to my dad for you. We're practically family already, after all. I don't want anything to happen to your mom."

One look at my dad's bloodshot, frantic eyes, and I dropped to my knees sharp and fast, no hesitation. It wasn't like this was the first time today, anyway.

I begged for forgiveness, then I lowered my head and started bowing deep, my forehead scraping the sterile hospital floor, to Natalie.

"I was wrong," I whispered, the words scraping my throat. "I shouldn’t have crashed the venue, and I shouldn't have hurt anyone."

I bowed until my forehead split open against the hard tile and blood seeped out. Only then did Natalie pretend to be the bigger person, stepping forward to gracefully help me up.

"We're best friends, after all," Natalie murmured sweetly for everyone to hear. "Of course, I don't hold it against you."

But as she pulled me close, she leaned down and breathed a venomous, taunting whisper right into my ear, "Faking those photos was my idea. We've dragged this out long enough, though. Your useless mother must be dead by now, right?"

The taut, fraying string strung through my mind finally snapped clean in two.

I shot to my feet and lunged straight at Natalie, screaming, "I’ll kill you!"

I never even got close to touching her before my dad kicked me hard from behind, sending me crashing back down to my knees.

I lifted my head, stunned beyond belief.

"Dad, the photos are fake!" I sobbed, blood dripping down my face. "She and Brandon worked together to trick you all on purpose! I'm the one who's been framed!"

My father didn't believe a single word. His hand shook as he grabbed a plastic broom propped against the nearby maintenance staff's cart and swung it down hard against my body, blow after blow.

"That's enough! This whole thing could be fixed with a simple apology. Why can't you stop lying? Do you actually want your own mother to die?"

Brandon twisting the truth hurt bad enough, but nothing crushed me quite like the absolute distrust of my own blood.

A hot, coppery gush exploded up my throat and sprayed out of my mouth, staining the white linoleum floor.

I closed my eyes, utterly despairing, as darkness finally claimed me.