Chapter 4

I turned and walked away, spotting a server passing by with a tray of fresh drinks.

Just as my fingers reached out to grab another glass of champagne, a hand intercepted mine mid-air.

A tumbler of warm water was gently pressed into my palms. Tristan looked down at me with an exasperated, protective glare:

"You're bold, trying to drink alcohol in your state. Drink warm water!"

I chuckled softly, reaching up to lightly pinch his cheek.

"Whatever you say, my little keeper."

A faint gasp sounded from behind, followed by Luna's theatrical voice:

"Serena... what are you doing?"

I frowned and looked back.

The girl was like a persistent ghost, endlessly irritating.

Brandon's face, for once, showed some semblance of human emotion—a flush of unmistakable fury.

"Serena Hart, our divorce hasn't been finalized."

"It will be soon. If you sign the papers, we could be done in thirty days."

I had zero patience left to entertain either of them.

Just as I took Tristan's arm to walk away, Luna wheeled forward to cut us off.

Holding two glasses of champagne, her face was a mask of counterfeit contrition:

"Serena, I was acting immaturely earlier."

"Let me toast you. Please forgive me. To make amends, my family's conglomerate is willing to concede five percent of the profit share on our upcoming resort development."

Beside her, Brandon offered a rare concession:

"Humiliating you publicly was my mistake. Forgive Luna, and I'll agree to split the returns on our last joint venture seventy-thirty."

"Seventy to you, thirty to me."

I sneered inwardly.

After running the numbers, I saw no reason to let pride sabotage business.

If I was walking out of this marriage, I might as well squeeze every cent out of him on the way out.

Tristan quietly placed his hand over mine, murmuring under his breath:

"You haven't recovered from your trauma. This petty change isn't worth it..."

I arched a brow. I hadn't realized Tristan's standards were this ridiculously high:

"Two hundred million is petty change?"

Before he could respond, I took a polite sip from the flute.

An unexpected, metallic bitterness hit my tongue. But before I could speak, a violent coughing fit seized my chest, causing my whole body to convulse.

"Ugh..."

A strangled groan of pure agony escaped my throat.

In the next second, dark crimson blood surged past my lips, dripping through my fingers onto the marble floor in a terrifying display.

Gasps of horror rippled through the surrounding crowd. Even Luna, who had personally handed me the flute, turned paper-white with shock.

"How is this..."

Brandon's voice cracked with raw disbelief as he instinctively lunged forward to catch my collapsing frame.

But someone beat him to it.

Tristan swept me into his arms in a single swift motion, his playful facade instantly replaced by murderous panic.

"Call an ambulance! NOW!"

The agony was unbearable.

It was so blinding that I couldn't form words. I could only curl inward in Tristan’s embrace as blood kept pouring from my mouth, soaking his crisp dress shirt and suit jacket in deep red.

My vision faded, plunging into pitch-black unconsciousness.

Outside the emergency room.

Tristan moved like a rabid beast. He seized Brandon by the lapels of his tuxedo and slammed him brutally against the frigid hospital wall with a sickening *thud*.

"Brandon Vance, what the fuck did you do to her?! What was in that glass?!"

"Do you have any idea she almost died?! How could you poison someone carrying critical post-trauma damage?!"

A vicious hook snapped Brandon's head sideways, splitting his lip open as blood trickled down his chin.

Dazed shock mingled with unprecedented terror in Brandon's eyes:

"Let go of me! Luna brought that drink, I didn't—"

"Wait, what post-trauma damage?"

Tristan drove a merciless punch deep into Brandon's stomach. Every word ripped from his throat like shards of glass:

"You don't know?"

"You actually don't fucking know?! The exact day you went to welcome that worthless girl back, Serena's car was rear-ended at high speed on the interstate. Her vehicle rolled down an embankment!"

"I pulled the phone records! Fifteen emergency calls to you! You didn't answer a single goddamn one!"

Tristan pointed a trembling, bloodstained finger toward the locked double doors of the OR.

"Do you know that because of massive internal hemorrhaging and delayed rescue, the hospital issued two critical condition notices?!"

"Her heart, lungs, liver, and kidneys suffered traumatic ruptures! Her surviving at all was a fucking miracle!"

"And you handed her poison?!"

Brandon's pupils constricted violently, unable to anchor on anything.

An icy chill plunged straight into his marrow.

"What car crash... critical notices... What are you talking about?"