“Yeah, Zach couldn’t stop grinning during the ceremony. When it was time for his vows, he was bawling harder than anyone. Poor guy was terrified of losing her.” Phoebe felt a pang in her heart from Edward’s last comment.
She felt she owed an apology to Edward.
She had thought her love for Edward was unwavering, but now she was secretly falling for Theodore, the same man who had once assaulted her.
Perhaps even the heavens couldn’t bear to watch, so they sent Vanessa to torment her.
“Edward, I want to go back,” Phoebe said.
Edward’s fingers curled in his pocket. He turned to look at Phoebe’s pale profile and nodded gently. “Alright, let’s get you home.”
*
Stepping out of the elevator, they spotted Theodore supporting Vanessa down the corridor.
They made a striking couple together.
Phoebe looked down, noticing the bandage on Vanessa’s hand; knowing the importance of her hands to her piano playing, Phoebe understood the significance of the injury. Yet, Vanessa was willing to sacrifice them just to set a trap for her.
Vanessa’s face lit up with a smile upon seeing Edward standing by Phoebe – as if fortune itself had walked right up to her.
“Mr. Vanderbilt, what brings you to the hospital? Did you come especially to see Miss Ziegler?” Vanessa asked with a sly grin, resembling a cunning fox. Vanessa’s words visibly darkened Theodore’s mood as he noticed the men’s jacket draped over Phoebe’s shoulders, his gaze growing more ominous.
“Phoebe, come here!” he demanded, his tone revealing the extent of his irritation.
Phoebe pressed her lips together, staying put. She slid the jacket off her shoulders and handed it to Edward, “Thanks for bringing me back, Edward.”
As Edward reached out to take it, his fingers brushed hers, and he gripped the jacket. “No need to thank me. Get some rest.”
The scene playing out in front of Theodore ignited a fierce blaze of rage within him, as if his jealousy had completely taken the reins of reason. Striding forward, he grasped Phoebe’s wrist and began dragging her towards the hospital room. “Theodore…” Vanessa hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction from him; his eyes were bloodshot, he looked like a husband catching a cheater red-handed.
Edward couldn’t just stand by as Theodore manhandled Phoebe. He grabbed her other wrist, “Theodore, don’t go too far!”
Forced to halt, Theodore turned, his gaze sweeping over the pale wrist clasped in Edward’s grip. A tumultuous irritability surged within him, a vicious desire to shatter that intrusive hand.
His voice was icily menacing, “Get your filthy hands off her.”
Edward, known for his equanimity and elegance, almost never lost his cool. Yet even he couldn’t contain his anger against Theodore’s hostile behavior.
“Who’s the dirty one here, really? Don’t you have a clue?” Edward shot back.
Theodore seethed with resentment; he’d long disliked Edward’s refined facade, mistaking it for true virtue when in his eyes, Edward was nothing more than a contemptible man coveting another’s wife. “Let. Her. Go!”
Caught in the middle of this dramatic tug-of-war, Phoebe had never imagined she’d be the crux of such a scene. The struggle only worsened her frail state, her complexion turning a frightening shade of ghostly pale. “Let me go,” she said weakly.
Vanessa, looking on, was nearly apoplectic with frustration. What kind of charm did Phoebe possess to make these two supposedly distinguished men turn on each other with such animosity?