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I take a step in Tristan’s direction, doing my best to push back the anger and fear rising within me. “How the fuck did he overpower you anyway?”
“He killed Michael,” Tristan replied with a grimace. “Michael was doing a routine delivery, and when I opened up the door, Rich was behind him. He forced his way in. We fought, but he gained the upper hand.”
I clench my hands into fists. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I should’ve been there. I could’ve protected Isabella from all of this.
“He crushed my phone,” Tristan responded after a lengthy pause. “I saw him take Isabella’s phone, too. She wanted to talk to you, but he was very persuasive, and I couldn’t tell her what happened.”
I cross over to Tristan and grab him by the scruff of his neck. “Did you betray me again?”
Tristan’s eyes widen. “Fuck, Carter. How can you even think that? I learned my lesson, okay? And I actually care about Isabella now. I wouldn’t—”
My grip tightens, the low thrumming in my ears growing louder. “You wouldn’t what?”
Tristan’s eyes dart over to Paul, and he swallows when he looks back at me. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the baby.”
With a low noise of disgust, I shove Tristan away. Then I pick up the nearest item and throw it at the wall, sending shards of glass in every direction. Paul jumps to his feet, rips off a piece of his shirt, and begins to pick up the glass. When a blonde-haired nurse comes in, she freezes in the doorway, glancing from my face to Tristan’s and lingering on Paul, who is on his hands and knees on the floor.
“There’s nothing to see here,” I tell her in a clipped and measured tone. “Everything’s fine.”
The nurse looks back at Tristan, who nods. When she leaves the room, she yanks the door shut behind her, and it closes with a click. I wait for a while longer before I wheel around to face Tristan, the anger still burning through me.
I need something to blame. Someone I can pummel for answers. Unfortunately, with Rich nowhere to be found, I’m left with my family. The same family who is losing faith in me and keeping secrets from me.
Is this how things are going to unfold?
Am I going to be pushed from the top by my own family?
“I know you’re pissed I didn’t tell you,” Tristan begins, his voice rising toward the end. “You and I have our issues, Carter, but it wasn’t my place to tell you. Isabella wanted to wait, and I wanted to respect her decision.”
I scowl. “You’re my cousin, not hers.”
Tristan stiffens. “You asked me to protect her, and I knew that if I told you, you’d come rushing over, and we’d lose the war.”
“You’re damn right I would’ve.” I bridge the distance between us then, every inch of me trembling with rage and the inability to reach between us and exact my revenge on Tristan. “I am the head of this family, and I have the right to know everything that happens. You should’ve known better, and if you weren’t in the hospital right now, I’d have you put in one myself.”
Of all people, he isn’t the one I expect this from.
Then again, I know Anita is right. I’m not angry at Tristan or Sam or even Isabella. I’m furious at myself for not picking up on the signs sooner.
Isabella had been feeling unwell for weeks, and I chalked it up to grief and the shock of losing her father. In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined this turn of events. When Tristan doesn’t respond and instead hangs his head, I lean away from him and make another low noise in the back of my throat. Paul walks over to me, but I push past him and spill out into the hallway.
I am pacing when a doctor with wisps of silver and a colorful scrub cap on his head comes over to me. I shove both hands into my pockets and wait for him to stop.
“Mr. Blackthorne, your fiancée is out of surgery.”
I glance at his name tag and back up at his face. “When can I see her?”
“She’s in recovery,” Dr. Masterson explains with a vague hand gesture. He smells like sweat and blood, and I wonder if he’s come straight here to placate me. News travels fast inside hospital walls, and I’m sure the entire staff is on edge because of me.
But I can’t bring myself to care.
“It’s going to be another hour or two before you can see her,” Dr. Masterson continues in a clearer voice. “She hasn’t woken up yet.”
I frown. “Is she stable?”
“For now, but the car accident was pretty serious, Mr. Blackthorne,” the doctor replies with a frown. “She’s lucky the damage wasn’t any worse.”
