Chapter 3 A stranger help

His words hit me like a slap. I gave him everything, my time, my money, my heart and he had the audacity to act as if none of it mattered? How could he be so cruel, so ungrateful? After all these years, is this how he will repay me?

Before I could reply, a slow annoying footstep echoed through the room. I froze, dread coursing through me as I turned toward the source.

Lucas, Anderson's younger brother, stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, his head cocked at an unnatural angle, and that eerie, almost childlike smile playing on his lips.

"Lucas," I said carefully, straightening my posture.

He took slow exaggerated steps toward me, he looked me from my head down to my chest then back to my face.

"Stay back," I warned, raising a hand to stop him.

"Oh, come now," he said, his voice slipping into a softer tone that only made my stomach churn. "No need to be so cold. I was just going to say hello."

"I'm warning you," I said firmly, my voice louder now.

Lucas chuckled, tilting his head again like a curious predator.

"Why so tense, kate? You used to be so much fun."

"Don't call me that," I snapped, my heart hammering.

His smile didn't waver, but the gleam in his eyes darkened. He reached out, his hand hovering too close to my arm. I stepped away, raising both hands in front of me.

"Don't touch me."

Evelyn, still seated on the couch with Aiden by her side, watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement. Anderson looked away like he always did, as though this wasn't his problem.

"Lucas," I said again, my voice sharper now. "You better go back to whatever hole you crawled out from"

His grin faltered for a split second, replaced by something more sinister. He is literally the worst in the grant family.

"So feisty, I like that."

My stomach churned at the memory of the last time Lucas had tried to corner me, feigning one of his "episodes." He had trapped me in the laundry room, his hands roaming too freely until I had managed to escape. He claimed afterward that he couldn't remember a thing, that his "condition" made him act out.

No one had believed me.

But I had learned my lesson: To never let him get too close.

A loud knock interrupted.

We all turned toward the sound, Evelyn rose from her seat, smoothing her dress as she walked to the door. She opened the door, and two uniformed officers stepped inside. My heart sank as their eyes locked onto me.

"Ms. Brook?" one of them said, his tone firm but polite.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Yes?"

"We're here to escort you to the station for questioning," the officer said, stepping closer.

"Questioning?" I repeated, my voice breaking. "What for?"

"Ma'am, please come with us," the other officer said, ignoring my question.I took a step back, my eyes darting toward Aiden.

"Wait," I said, raising my hands. "Just wait. I'll come with you, but I need my son to come with me."

"Aiden, come here," I said, crouching again and opening my arms. "It's okay, baby. We'll figure this out together."

He shook his head, and my heart shattered all over again. Evelyn's smile widened as she stroked his hair. I turned to the officers, desperation clawing at my chest.

"Please, let me take him with me. He's my son. He's all I have now"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," one of them said, his tone laced with sympathy. "But we can't allow that right now."

Aiden didn't come to me. He wouldn't even glance my way as the officers grabbed my arms and began pulling me toward the door.

We has gotten to the station, but it still felt like a dream. First, I announced my own divorce. Now I'm once again a woman with scandal, something I had buried under years of pain.

"Ms Brook" the officer said and I paused looking at him "Mr. Anderson ordered you drop the key to your Bentley with us," the officer said, asking for the key.

I scoffed. I couldn't believe my eyes. The car I had bought with my own money was Anderson's. Yes, they're Anderson's; everything I ever owned was in Anderson's name.

I handed over the keys to my Bentley, my fingers trembling as I placed them in the officer's hand. Before we got married, Anderson had insisted on being in control.

He said it was about feeling like a man, about not wanting to appear as though he were being controlled by me. And I, blinded by love, had handed him everything. My accounts, my resources, my trust like a fool who didn't know she was walking into her own trap.

He had tricked me, hadn't he? Tricked me for years while I gave and gave, believing in a love that never really existed. All this time, he had been waiting for the right moment to strike.

I clenched my fists, feeling the familiar sting of tears pressing against my eyes, but I refused to cry. Atleast not in front of these people.

"Miss Brook?"

I turned at the sound of a voice-low, calm, familiar. My gaze landed on him: the doctor from earlier.

He stood in the station doorway, his tall frame taking up the space. Taking a closer glance at him, his grey eyes struck me. His coat hung loosely on his shoulders, and the way he smiled sent warmth down my skin.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes scanning my face with that same intensity I had noticed earlier at the hospital.

"I heard what happened and thought you could use some help."

I blinked at him, the weight of his words catching me off guard.

"Why would you care? I paused "And how did you find me here?"

He didn't answer right away, but something in his gaze softened.

"Because it looks like no one else here does, and let's say I followed you right from when you left the hospital. I was scared you might actually hurt yourself"

The simplicity of his statement struck me harder than any pitying glance or shallow apology I had received so far.

"I don't need your help," I said stiffly, straightening my shoulders.

"Maybe not," he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk. "But I'm offering it anyway."

Something about his confidence, the way he didn't push but remained steady, made me falter. For the first time in what felt like hours, I allowed myself to take a breath.

"Why?" I asked again, softer this time.

He hesitated for a moment, then smiled, a faint, almost reluctant curve of his lips.

"Let's just say I'm not a fan of seeing people kicked while they're already down."