Chapter 31

Hannah's temper flared. "And why the hell not involve the police?"

Vincent's reply was cold, his grip still tight on her wrist. "It wouldn't be good for Brinley's reputation."

Hannah smirked. So that was all it came down to. Brinley's image meant everything. As for her, the stand-in,she never even factored into his thinking. Any hint of warmth she'd felt earlier when he spoke up for her vanished in aheartbeat. What a joke. He was trash.

With a sharp motion, Hannah slapped his hand away, refusing to back down. "That's rich, coming from you.Your affair with Brinley has already made it into every gossip column. But now you're suddenly afraid of bad press?" There was steel in her voice. No one would stop her. "I'm calling the police. No one could stop me."

Since they wanted to drag her name through the mud, she would defend herself-no more silent suffering.

Brinley/ saw that Hannah meant it and quickly panicked. She lunged and shoved Hannah-hard enough to make Hannah slam into the corner of the table.

Hannah's phone went flying, clattering against the floor.

Seizing the moment, Brinley leaned backward to make it look like she somehow lost her balance,all the while she extended her hands to wrap her arms around Vincent's neck, clinging to him like some helpless damsel. And she didn't stop there. As she played the victim, she pressed her heel down on Hannah's phone over and over.

So this was the scene Hannah took in: her husband supporting the very woman who had shoved her on purpose. And he just stood there, showing concern toward her attacker instead of helping her. The irony was almost laughable.Pain shot up her lower back-it would definitely bruise. It hurt like hell.

Brinley straightened up and remarked to Vincent in a gentle, unsteady voice, "Thank you."

Hannah let out a mocking smile and picked up her shattered phone. "Really, you should be thanking me. lf you hadn't slammed into me, you never would have landed in Vincent's arms."

With downcast eyes, Brinley said in a quiet voice, "I'm sorry, Hannah. I just didn't want things to spiral out of control. I got carried away... I didn't mean to hurt you." She made it sound so noble, as though every move was for the Jones family'ssake.

A cold laugh escaped Hannah as she waved the ruined phone. "What's the plan? Break my phone so I can't call the cops? You really think that's enough to stop me?"

Danica, for her part, looked delighted. At least, Hannah couldn't involve the police for now. The last thing she wanted was to become tea-time gossip among Dorbarrow's upper crust. She much preferred being waited on and praised, not whispered about over tea.

Vincent moved closer to Hannah. "Where are you hurt?"

Hannah jerked away from him, her face stone-cold. "Don't act concerned."

He cast a hard look at Danica and Brinley, keeping his tone low. "Leave us."

Danica pressed her lips together. "Not until Hannah says sorry to Brinley."

"I said leave," Vincent remarked, the lines on his forehead deepening.

Danica wanted to protest, but with one look at his expression, she fell silent and slipped out.

Brinley followed Danica reluctantly, not before throwing one sharp glare Hannah's way.

Closing the door, Vincent tried to lift Hannah's shirt to check for injuries.

She slapped his hand away. "What, you still want to make out with me?"

His expression darkened. "I just want to check your injury."

"I'm fine. Go get cozy with Brinley instead," Hannah retorted, heading for the door.

Vincent stopped her and gently pushed her onto the bed. "Lie down. Let me see your back."

"I said no." She squirmed and tried to get up, but he straddled her and pinned her wrists with one hand.

With his free hand, he lifted her shirt. A large, deep bruise had already started to form along her waist.

His fingers brushed against the bruise, and Hannah sucked in a breath, the pain sharp and sudden. "If you just want to look, then keep your hands off," she said, brow furrowed in discomfort.

He softened his touch and spoke quietly."Let me put some ointment on it."

She glared at him. "I don't need your help."

Vincent fetched the first-aid kit anyway. Ignoring her protest, he pinned her in place, lifted her shirt again,and started to apply the ointment.

Realizing there was no point resisting, Hannah lay back and kept still. So Vincent still cared-at least, a little.If all this hadn't happened, maybe this gesture from him would've made her happy. But now, it didn't stir anything in her at all. It was just hollow concern.