I swatted his hand away, glaring at him with watery eyes. “You’re the one who’s possessed! I just lost my phone and didn’t have any cash on me, so I had to walk all the way back. My feet are killing me!” I whimpered, rubbing my swollen ankle.
Brandon groaned dramatically, tossing a few tissues my way. “You’re such an idiot.”
Then, as if trying to rub salt in the wound, he added, “Serves you right for clinging to Ethan. Didn’t he always claim you were the one for him? So why’d he let you walk home on your own?”
“Okay, okay, I admit it. I was blind before, but I don’t like him anymore,” I retorted, pouting.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of my sudden change of heart. “You finally saw through that jerk Ethan’s opportunistic nature?”
Without waiting for my response, Brandon crossed his arms smugly. “I told you your taste in men was terrible.”
“Oh, and yours is any better?” I shot back, rolling my eyes before dragging his past into the conversation. “Who was it again that fell head over heels for a girl just because she did one dance during the high school assembly?
“You were bragging to everyone about that ‘sweet little angel’ of yours,” I mimicked his cocky posture. “And how long did it last? Barely three days before she ditched you!”
5
The next time I saw Charles was at his official family introduction party at the Shaw mansion.
He had been cornered in the garden, with red wine poured over his clothes and cake smeared across his face.
My brows furrowed, and I was about to rush over when Brandon grabbed my arm.
Dressed to the nines and holding a wine glass, Brandon nodded toward the figures watching from the third-floor balcony. “This is their family’s mess. Stay out of it. He’s being targeted on purpose.”
I followed his gaze.
On the balcony was Ethan’s father in his wheelchair, with Ethan behind him, pushing the chair. Beside them stood a middle-aged woman in an elegant silk evening gown, watching the scene unfold with an almost cruel indifference.
“It’s all part of their plan?” I asked, bewildered.
Brandon took a sip of his wine and grimaced. “Ugh, awful stuff,” he muttered before continuing.
He ruffled my hair, smirking as he explained, “You really don’t get it, do you?”