Chapter 320 Don’t Provoke
Me
Nixon’s breathing turned shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. His fingers clenched at his shirt, knuckles white. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, his lips fading to a sickly shade of pale. A violent cough wracked his body, stealing what little strength he had left-then, suddenly, blood splattered from his mouth.
“Nixon! Nixon! Stay with me! Are you okay?!” Sally’s voice cracked with panic.
But he didn’t respond. His body went limp. His eyes fluttered shut.
Renee shoved Sally aside and knelt beside Nixon, pressing two fingers to his pulse. Her eyes flicked up to Caitlyn, who stood frozen in shock. “Call an ambulance! Now!” she ordered, her tone sharp.
Caitlyn jolted at the command. Her face paled, and with trembling hands, she fumbled for her phone, hastily dialing emergency services.
The ambulance would take time to arrive. Renee checked Nixon over once
more, her expression unreadable. His breathing was shallow but steady, and his pulse-though erratic-remained strong. It was likely just a fainting spell from sheer rage. Not life-threatening, but still a clear warning.
Sally turned on Renee, her voice sharp with accusation. “This is your fault! Are you trying to drive your father to his grave?!”
Renee let out a cold, mocking laugh. Sally’s ability to twist the truth was almost admirable. And her acting? Flawless. For years, she had played the perfect role-the gentle, soft-spoken woman. Even a man as shrewd as Nixon had fallen for her act, tangled in the web of her deception.
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“Sally, don’t worry,” Renee said coolly. “Even if it’s not for Nixon, I’ll make sure everyone sees the real you.”
“Oh, really?” Stetson’s smirk twisted into something darker. “I’d love to see you try.” He dropped the last of his pretense, his tone turning sharp. “I heard you’re William Mitchell’s wife. The Mitchells are loaded, huh?” His eyes gleamed with malice. “Well, what do you think would happen if I showed up at their doorstep and made a scene? Think they’d still want a woman who dragged their name through the mud?” He let out a low chuckle. “Since you won’t let us off easy, let’s make sure no one comes out
unscathed.”
Renee chuckled lightly, completely unfazed by Stetson’s threats. Disdain flickered in her eyes as she looked at him. “Stetson Becker, right? Seven
years ago, you were locked up for four years for burglary. Less than a year after your release, you were back inside-another year and a half for fighting.”
As she spoke, her gaze shifted between Stetson and Sally, their stunned expressions only fueling her momentum.
“The two of you grew up together, and things got serious when you were fifteen or maybe sixteen.” Renee let the words hang before arching a brow. “But Rosa isn’t your child, is she?” Her voice remained steady, unshaken. “Should I keep going?”
Sally collapsed to the floor, her legs giving out beneath her.
Just then, the wail of an approaching ambulance shattered the suffocating
silence.
Caitlyn jolted back to reality, fumbling as she rushed to open the door.
Paramedics stormed in, swiftly securing Nixon onto a stretcher before carrying him out to the ambulance.
Renee followed behind them, but just before stepping into the ambulance, she turned, casting Sally and Stetson a cold, razor-sharp glance. “Don’t
worry,” she said with quiet disdain. “I wouldn’t waste my time dealing with you. But if you push me-well, that’s a different story.”
The ambulance tore through the streets, its sirens cutting through the night. Inside, Renee sat stiffly, her eyes fixed on Nixon’s unconscious form.
Not once did her expression waver. To her, he might as well have been a stranger. At the hospital, she stood back as the medical team rushed Nixon. inside. Without a word, she made her way to the waiting area, sinking into a chair. She passed the time scrolling through her phone, casually playing a few rounds of a game as if this were any other night.
Eventually, a nurse approached, holding out a critical condition notice for her to sign. She didn’t even bother pausing her game. With a quick glance at the paper, she scribbled her signature and handed it back without
hesitation.
The nurse shot Renee several disapproving glances, her expression making it clear-what kind of daughter behaved like this?
Time dragged on, stretching endlessly, until a low battery warning flashed on Renee’s phone. Almost at the same moment, the doors to the operating room finally swung open.
She set her phone aside and stood as a group of doctors stepped out.
One of them pulled off his mask, his face serious. “The patient is stable for now, but he’ll need to remain in intensive care for observation. His emotional state is highly unstable. Any further distress could be life- threatening.”
Renee gave a small nod. “Got it. Thanks.”
