“If the machines are removed, your mom won’t last long, Hedy. Think carefully about your next move.”
His unyielding expression crushed the last of my endurance, and tears slipped down my face.
He had once promised me I would never suffer injustice.
And yet here he was—using my mom’s life as leverage, all for Debbii.
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I pulled out my phone to call my brother.
When Bryson noticed, he didn’t panic. If anything, a trace of pity curved his lips, as though he were watching an insect struggling uselessly in a spider’s web. He simply waited.
I dialed again and again—ten times, twenty—but all I heard was the busy tone.
Behind me, Bryson let out a soft laugh, pitying, almost gentle. He patted my head and murmured, “Stop calling, Hedy. Don’t you see the truth already? From the very first call that didn’t go through, you should’ve guessed, shouldn’t you?”
My face went pale.
The next moment, he answered a call right in front of me, deliberately putting it on speaker.