Chapter 37 The Cost of a Mistake
The fluorescent lights of Nexus Hospital cast a sterile glow over the private patient room, the beeping of the monitors the only sound breaking the uncomfortable silence. Chase sat propped up in bed, absently poking at a cup of lime Jell-O with a plastic spoon. The artificial sweetness barely registered on his tongue. Across from him, his parents, James and Isabelle Blackwood, sat in stiff-backed chairs, their gazes heavy with unspoken worry.
James, his ever-stern father, let out a slow, measured breath before finally breaking the silence. "Why are you doing this to yourself, Chase?" His voice was firm, laced with an anger that barely masked the deeper emotion beneath—fear.
Chase swallowed; his throat dry. "I'm not—"
"Don't give me that," James cut him off, his sharp gaze burning into his son. "Look at you. You're in a goddamn hospital eating Jell-O like a child. This isn't you. This isn't the son I raised. What the hell is going on?"
Isabelle reached out, gently placing her hand over Chase's. Unlike her husband, her worry was not hidden beneath layers of frustration; it was raw, etched into every line of her face. "Sweetheart, we just want to understand. We want to help."
Chase averted his eyes, staring blankly at the green gelatin wobbling on his spoon. "I don't know what to say," he admitted, voice hoarse. Because what could he say? That he'd lost control? That every decision he had made recently had driven him further into a place he didn't recognize? That the weight of his mistakes felt like they were crushing him from the inside out?
James scoffed, shaking his head. "You used to know exactly what to say. At business dinners, at meetings—you had charm, confidence. But now? You look lost, Chase. And I don't recall any dinner being scheduled for tonight. What dinner was so important that you ended up here?"
Chase exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "It wasn't a dinner. I heard something about Emilia." His voice wavered on her name, the sound of it like an open wound tearing wider.
James's expression softened. "What about Emilia?"
Chase hesitated, fingers tightening around the cup in his hands. "She's engaged. Already. It's only been six months." The words felt foreign leaving his lips, unreal and bitter at the same time. He forced out a hollow laugh. "Guess it didn't take her long to move on."
Isabelle's lips parted slightly, concern softening her features. "Chase..."
"No," he cut in, shaking his head, his heart pounding against his ribs. "I know it's my fault. I should've trusted her. I should've talked to her instead of running along with the one person who has done nothing but wreck my life over and over again." His chest rose and fell with the force of his breath, the emotions he'd buried for months crashing down on him. "I thought I was making the right decision. I thought I was protecting myself. But I wasn't—I was just scared."
His father studied him for a long moment before leaning back in his chair, disappointment and something else—something more painful—settling into his features. "So, you're telling me, after all this time, you finally realize you were wrong? After you've already lost her?"
Chase squeezed his eyes shut. "I knew I lost her the moment I accused her of something she never did. But it didn't hit me, not really, until I heard she was engaged. That's when I knew—she was never coming back. And I don't blame her. I just..." His voice cracked, and he shook his head. "I hate that I let it happen."
Isabelle squeezed his hand, her touch warm and familiar, grounding him. "Sweetheart, regret is heavy, but it doesn't have to be the end of your story."
Chase let out a shaky breath. "I just don't know how to be the man I used to be."
James's voice was quieter now, but no less firm. "Then don't be the man you used to be. Be better. Learn from this. And for once, Chase, stop looking for the easy way out."
Chase sat in silence, his chest aching with the weight of everything he had lost. He had made mistakes—unforgivable ones. But for the first time in a long time, he didn't just feel the loss.
He felt the need to fight for what he had thrown away. He knew it might be too late, that Emilia had moved on—but if there was even the smallest chance, she could see that he was still the man she once loved, that he could be the man she deserved, he had to try. He needed to make real changes, not just wallow in regret. He needed to prove—first to himself, then to her—that he could be better. And if she needed him to let go, if she truly wanted a life without him, he would step back.
But not without fighting like hell first.
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Across town, Hallie sat in the driver's seat of her parked car, her nails digging into the steering wheel so hard they left crescent-shaped indents in her palms. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths, her face streaked with mascara-stained tears as frustration clawed its way up her throat.
Beside her, Sabrina Rae lazily scrolled through her phone, her expression indifferent as Hallie let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"This is such bullshit," Hallie hissed, slamming her palm against the dashboard. "My career—my entire fucking life—down the drain, all because of this damn baby."
Her gaze flickered downward, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. Did she regret keeping it? Maybe. But it was also the only thing tying her to Ryder Evans, and that thought alone made it impossible to let go. The idea of being forgotten, of being replaced, burned more than she could admit.
"Do you have any idea how many roles I've lost?" she snapped, her voice raw with frustration. "How many casting directors suddenly stopped calling the second they found out? They don't say it outright, of course. They just 'go in a different direction' or 'decide on a new creative vision.'" She let out a sharp breath, her jaw tightening. "I was supposed to have the lead next season. Now? Now I'm a fucking liability."
Sabrina, still scrolling through her phone, barely glanced up. "Hollywood doesn't love pregnant women. You knew that." Her tone was indifferent, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "But hey, what's a few months? Aren't you, like, due soon anyway?"Hallie let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, three months. Like that makes a difference. I should've never let this happen. I should've never let him happen."
Her fingers curled into a fist against her stomach before she scoffed, redirecting her rage elsewhere. "And don't even get me started on Roxanne," she sneered.
"That smug bitch walks around like she's some untouchable industry queen. Newsflash—she's just a washed-up has-been with too much money and too many opinions, acting like she's still relevant."
Her voice dripped with venom, but underneath it, there was something else—something sharp and desperate. Because if Roxanne, of all people, could still hold power in this industry, then what the hell did that mean for her?
Sabrina finally looked up, arching a brow. "And Emilia?"
Hallie went still for a moment before a slow, cruel smile curled on her lips. "Oh, don't get me started on her," she hissed, her voice thick with venom. "The precious little Emilia Everett. Everyone worships the ground she walks on like she's some kind of untouchable saint. It makes me sick."
Sabrina smirked. "Jealous much?"
Hallie inhaled sharply, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Then maybe it's time someone opened their damn eyes." She turned fully to Sabrina now, her expression sharpening with dark intent. "I want them to suffer. I want to remind Emilia Everett that she is nothing."
Sabrina tilted her head, a slow smirk curling on her lips. "Now that's the Hallie I know."
Hallie exhaled sharply, a cruel glint flashing in her eyes. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."
Hallie's nails dug into the leather of the steering wheel, her breaths coming short and ragged as she stared out into the empty parking lot. The weight of everything—her career slipping through her fingers, the rejection, the goddamn baby—pressed down on her, suffocating, clawing at her insides like a wild animal desperate to escape.
But it wasn't just about her anymore. Someone else needed to suffer. Someone else needed to feel this kind of misery.
Her lips curled into a slow, wicked smirk as she turned to Sabrina, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "We need to do something about this."
Sabrina finally looked up from her phone, intrigued. "Do something?"
Hallie let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Emilia fucking Everettneeds to pay." She leaned back against the headrest, exhaling sharply before her expression twisted into something venomous, something utterly cruel. "I want her to know what it's like to have everything ripped away. I want her to hurt."
She tilted her head, that smirk deepening. "And trust me, Sabrina—we're going to make sure she does."