Chapter 4 Clear My Name

I gritted my teeth, my patience hanging by a thread. Nothing I said, nothing I did, was ever enough. “Then what the hell do you want from me?” I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration. “You drive!” Sylvester barked as he scooped Lynn into his arms and rushed for the door. I stood frozen, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of it. Before I could respond, a firm shove from behind nearly sent me stumbling forward. “What are you standing around for?” Sylvester’s mother hissed, her fingers digging into my shoulder as she shoved past. “If anything happens to her, I dare you to try and explain yourself. It’s just awful luck whenever you’re involved.” I turned my head slightly, meeting her glare. The bitterness in her voice didn’t stem from concern. No, there was something else underneath, annoyance, perhaps? Mild irritation? There was no fear, no true worry for Lynn’s well-being. If she cared so much, would she really be muttering about bad luck instead of, say, expressing genuine concern? Interesting. For a moment, I considered leaving them all behind to deal with their mess on their own. But something made me pause. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, a sick fascination with how this ridiculous drama would unfold. Maybe it was the desire to see just how far they would take this absurdity. Either way, I grabbed the car keys, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Sylvester sat in the backseat, cradling Lynn as he frantically spoke into his phone. “Yes, I want the best available team on standby the moment we arrive. No delays. She’s bleeding, do you understand me?” I had to bite back a snort. The best team? For what, exactly? A small gash? If we had waited another twenty minutes, her so-called life-threatening injury would have scabbed over on its own. But I kept my mouth shut and focused on the road. By the time we arrived at the hospital, staff were already waiting, a stretcher at the ready. They descended upon us with clinical efficiency, whisking Lynn away as though she were on the brink of death. I crossed my arms, watching the scene unfold. Sylvester ran after the gurney without so much as a glance in my direction. Figures. I leaned back against the car, arms still crossed, as I watched them disappear into the hospital. My fingers twitched with the urge to pull out my phone, to distract myself with something, anything, other than the dull ache creeping into my chest. Why did it still sting? I knew what Sylverster was like. I knew where his loyalties lay. And yet… I shook my head, exhaling through my nose. Two hours passed before Lynn was finally wheeled out of the emergency room. Sylverster shot to his feet. “Doctor, how is she? Will she be alright?” The doctor hesitated for the briefest moment, just long enough for me to notice. Then he plastered on a professional smile. “The wounds were not grievous,” he admitted. “You likely panicked unnecessarily. We stitched up the gash and ran scans to check for a concussion. The results will be ready in three hours, but as a precaution, we’ll keep her under observation for now.” I knew it. Biting the inside of my cheek, I barely stopped myself from laughing. All that urgency, all that hysteria, for this? Even the doctor looked uncomfortable having to explain that two hours of “emergency” treatment had amounted to stitches and a few scans. Sylverster, however, only looked relieved. “Thank you, doctor,” he said sincerely before hurrying after Lynn’s stretcher as she was wheeled toward her room. He never once looked back at me. I stayed there for a long moment, staring after him, feeling something tighten in my chest. And then my phone rang. I stiffened, glancing down at the screen. The caller ID made my breath hitch. I hadn’t seen that name in years. My fingers hovered over the decline button. I should let it go to voicemail. I shouldn’t answer. It rang again. Slowly, I pressed accept and lifted the phone to my ear. “…Big brother?” I whispered. His voice was steady, firm, yet oddly gentle. “It’s time for you to come home.” For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Three years. Three years of silence, of estrangement, of believing that bridge had long since burned to ashes. But maybe… maybe it hadn’t. I swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “…Okay.” *** Sylvester remained by Lynn’s bedside, watching her closely as she finally stirred awake. The first words out of her mouth weren’t a plea for comfort, nor concern for herself. “Where’s Georgia?” she asked softly. Sylverster’s jaw clenched. “Why are you asking about her?” Lynn turned her head weakly toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. “This clearly had nothing to do with her. Please… talk to her properly? I swear she wasn’t involved.” Sylvester bristled. “Even now you’re defending her?” His voice was sharp, laced with irritation. “What nonsense has she been feeding you? If she’s truly innocent, why did she leave right after your accident?” As if on cue, his phone buzzed with fresh notifications. His expression darkened as he skimmed the latest headlines. More scandal, more damning leaks, all aimed directly at Lynn. Someone was out to destroy her, and in Sylverster’s mind, there was only one person who could be behind it. Georgia. And now, she had vanished. Lynn sighed, reaching for his hand. “Even if it was Georgia… I don’t want to blame her. This is really all because of me. If I had just stayed away from you, none of this would have happened. We’re both women, Sylvester. It’s only natural she wouldn’t want me back in your life.” His grip tightened. “Stop making excuses for her.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “She’s clearly in the wrong here.” Lynn hesitated, then lowered her gaze, feigning sadness. Sylvester sighed, his expression softening. “Just rest. The doctor wants you under observation for now. I’ll handle everything else, I won’t let your career suffer because of this.” Lynn’s lips parted, eyes shining with something unreadable. Gratitude? Relief? Victory? Sylvester looked away before she could say anything, clearing his throat. “I have urgent matters to take care of.” And with that, he left. The moment the door shut behind him, the weak, demure act fell away. Lynn sat up, her gaze sharp and calculating. The scandals were becoming much more than she had expected, threatening everything she had built. If Sylvester ever truly looked deeper into them, if he discovered her involvement, she would be ruined. She had to clear her name. And fast.