Chapter 264

A heavy stillness settled over the place, prickling with tension.

Claude shot Hannah a sidelong look, clearly awaiting her decision.

But Hannah didn't look at Claude. Her attention stayed locked on Vincent, and his question made her brow knit in exasperation. He still found time to bicker about this? If Derek weren't practically holding him upright, Vincent would have already crumpled.He was the one who desperately needed medical treatment.

Exhaling softly, Hannah slid her wrist free from Claude's grip.

Claude's hand hovered in midair, stunned by her quiet defiance.

As she strode toward Vincent, disbelief flared in

Claude's eyes. For a moment, he looked ready to shout, but all that escaped was a ragged, strangled gasp.

Vincent's heart hammered wildly as Hannah drew closer, every footstep tightening the thundering in his chest. A wave of elation crashed over him,drowning out every throb of pain in his body. She was worried about him-she still cared.

The tender spark from their earlier embrace had ignited a fragile hope, a longing so sharp that he could barely breathe.

Swaying slightly, Vincent reached for her, the rest of the world fading to a distant blur. All he wanted was to take her hand, to escape this place with her by his side.

But just as his fingers were about to brush hers, just as he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes tinged with irrepressible joy, Hannah stopped, one step away. She didn't glance at his outstretched hand.She didn't spare a look for his pale, drawn face.

Her eyes cut past Vincent, zeroing in on Derek behind him. She spoke with steady, unwavering authority. "Mr. Barrett, what are you waiting for?Rush him to the hospital. Now. His injury needs immediate treatment-any delay could make it worse.Move."

Derek immediately straightened. "Yes, Ms. Scott!" he answered loudly, hurrying to steady Vincent's swaying frame.

The faint light in Vincent's eyes flickered out. All the hope that had surged up moments before drained away, leaving his face drawn and colorless. So that was it-she hadn't walked over to leave with him.She'd come only to ensure someone took him to the hospital.Just that. Nothing more.

Vincent's voice came out strained and low, barely above a whisper. "And you?"

She turned aside, refusing to meet his gaze. Her voice came out calm and unyielding. "Claude already brought his medical team."

Something in Vincent's chest gave way-a brittle,hollow snap. So that embrace had been meaningless.He'd convinced himself she still cared, that her heart might have softened toward him. But he'd only been fooling himself.

Claude's anger evaporated, replaced by a sudden flash of victory. He strode forward with bold,unrestrained confidence and clutched Hannah's wrist, as if staking his claim. "Let's go," he said, his voice gentler than before but unmistakably possessive.

Hannah dropped her eyes, refusing to look at anyone.She replied softly, almost inaudibly, "Alright."

"Mr. Jones, let me help you to the car," Derek said urgently, eager to get Vincent away from the scene.

But Vincent didn't budge. He remained motionless,as if the ground itself refused to let him go.

"Mr. Jones?" Derek's gentle prompt barely reached Vincent.

Vincent stood transfixed, staring after Hannah and Claude as they vanished into the waiting car. Claude opened the door with a protective flourish, shielding Hannah. The door slammed with a finality that sent a tremor through Vincent's chest, severing his last glimpse of her.

Only when the car had vanished around the corner did Vincent blink and force himself to move. "Let's go," he muttered, his voice rough and scarcely more than a whisper.

Derek released a slow sigh and carefully helped Vincent into the back seat, handling him as if he might shatter.

Across town, Erica lounged back, swirling her wine with a smirk as the TV flickered with breaking news.She'd just lifted the glass to her lips when her phone buzzed.

Seeing the caller, she answered with bored satisfaction, "I already know. The rest of the payment's on the way."

Just as she was about to hang up, the caller spoke,voice tight, breathless, brimming with urgency."Hannah Scott survived-the fire didn't kill her."

Erica's triumphant smirk vanished in an instant. Her fingers clenched around the glass, eyes narrowing into icy slits as fury flared in their depths.

The caller continued, "And Mr. Jones... He was there.Ran straight into the flames for her. He almost didn't make it out."

Erica snapped. The wineglass struck the floor and exploded, scattering glass across the tiles.

She shot upright, breath ragged and eyes blazing."How could Vincent once again save that woman!"she spat her words through clenched teeth. "He really couldn't let her go? He'd die before walking away from her?"

Defeat twisted her face, resentment burning in every line. Why? Why was it always Hannah-only Hannah -that Vincent saw?

Erica dragged in a trembling breath, wrestling her fury back under control. "Useless bastard," she muttered, unclear whether she meant the caller or someone else.

She strode over to the window, voice suddenly cold and measured. "Proceed with the next step. As planned."