Chapter 7

Chloe finally believed me. She looked at me with concern and said, "Wyn you… Never mind. At least you've come to your senses. You've suffered too much for Jameson these past seven years." I remained silent. Loving someone but not receiving the same love was the most painful thing to happen to a person. That pain would cause a mind to spiral and eventually lead to that person acting out. As the proud Wynonna Lambert, I had never experienced failure until that moment at 18 years old, when everything fell apart. Although I couldn't recall the events that happened between 18 and 25 years old, I could tell they weren't pleasant. I slowly said, "Chloe, please help me. I want to return to my family." Chloe shook her head and sighed. "That's going to be hard… You haven't spoken to them in five years." She hesitated. I could see pity in her eyes. I lowered my head, and a painful tightness filled my chest. I could feel my heart grieving. How could I not? Those were my closest family members. My eyes reddened. "Chloe, help me. I want to contact my brother. He's always loved me the most…" Chloe's expression shifted. "Wyn, it's not that I don't want to help you. But your brother won't see you." "Well, well. If it isn't Mrs. Brown. Why are you here drinking coffee for poor people?" The sarcastic tone of a woman made me frown. Before I could respond, Chloe quickly stood up. "Natasha Yarde, I'm warning you. Don't start trouble!" Standing before us was a woman in a floral dress. She had red hair and looked fashionable. Her makeup was perfectly done, and her left hand carried several shopping bags. Two other equally stylish young women stood on her right side. They wore the same expression of contempt as Natasha as they sized me up. I stood and gently pulled Chloe. "I don't know her. Let's go." Before Chloe could say anything, Natasha scoffed. "Oh, you don't know me? Wynonna, you've really forgotten where you came from! You and I go way back." I frowned. "Look, Ms. Yarde, I honestly don't know who you are." Natasha laughed and said to her companions, "Did you hear that? She claims not to know me." Her companion in a yellow dress laughed and chimed in, her tone dripping with disdain, "Doesn't matter if she says so. We wouldn't want to associate with a pathetic woman like her who grovels before Mr. Brown." They all started laughing with clear malice. I hardened my expression and tugged at Chloe's arm. "Let's go. Don't stoop to their level." But Chloe couldn't hold back her anger and snapped. She pointed at Natasha and shouted, "Who are you calling pathetic? Who could possibly be more pathetic than you, Nathasa? You knew Jameson was married, yet you still tried to seduce a taken man. Then, she turned to the other woman. "And you, Lucy Lowe! Your family tried everything from buying Jameson dinner to having drinks with him just to beg for business projects from the Browns. You're the most pathetic! Your whole family is pathetic!" Chloe's outburst left the three women momentarily stunned. Natasha was the first to recover and lunged at Chloe, her hands reaching for Chloe's hair. But Chloe was a fighter, and I had witnessed it growing up. She grabbed the coffee that was left on the table and threw it in Natasha's face. Natasha screeched and covered her face. Lucy angrily swung a shopping bag toward Chloe when she wasn't noticing. I quickly shielded her with my arm, and the bag slammed into my arm with a sharp pain. Chloe's fury erupted. "You wretches dare hit Wyn? Do you have a dying wish?" "Stop!" Someone yelled, walking toward us. The next moment, my arm was held down harshly. I heard a sickening crack, and the excruciating pain made me fall to the ground. My brain was buzzing when I heard Chloe's panicked and angry voice. "Jameson, are you insane? Why are you grabbing Wyn like that?" My heart sank. What was Jameson doing here? I tried to stand, but my head spun, and I collapsed. Just then, I felt someone catching me from hitting the floor in time. I couldn't see clearly and only heard a gentle yet firm voice. "Stop. She's hurt." … When I regained consciousness, the harsh fluorescent light above stung my eyes. "You're awake?" Jameson's voice came from beside me. I struggled to sit up. My left shoulder throbbed with pain, and I couldn't put my weight on my arm. Jameson's handsome face had a dark expression as he watched me. Upon seeing my sluggish movements, his lips curled in disdain. "So, you've finally woken up. I thought you would keep pretending for a while longer." I froze, then stared coldly at him. "Yes. I should have stayed unconscious longer. Would have been easier to blackmail you." Jameson looked taken aback, seemingly not expecting such a response from me. I could see how he loathed me from the way he looked at me. He said in an annoyed tone, "Wynonna, go apologize. Otherwise, they'll call the police on you." I laughed. "Why should I apologize? I didn't hit anyone. And they were the ones who started it!" Losing some memories didn't make me stupid. Although I couldn't remember Natasha, from the way Chloe had reacted, it was clear those women weren't innocent. Besides, Natasha had provoked us first, and Chloe just defended me. She had also been the one to lash out and get physical first. So why should I apologize? I held my injured shoulder and remained distant. My shoulder throbbed with pain—likely dislocated—yet the man who was supposed to be my husband was demanding I apologize to the very people who hurt me. How absurd! I couldn't help but laugh. Hearing my laughter, Jameson snapped. He stood and yanked me roughly by the arm. "Wynonna, that's enough! I've had enough of you! Stop embarrassing me and come home!" The pain I felt made me scream. Even then, Jameson was still skeptical. "Keep pretending. You're fine. Let's go!" The pain was unbearable and I couldn't think straight. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to drag him to hell with me. No one would have been able to endure the pain of getting their shoulder dislocated and being dragged like that. "Let her go. Can't you see she's injured?" Someone stepped in quickly and grasped Jameson's arm, which was holding onto me. Jameson instinctively let go of my arm, and I cried in pain. Just then, he finally realized something was wrong—my arm was twisted unnaturally. The stranger held onto me, his voice soothing. "Don't worry. I'll take you to the hospital." I clung to him as if he was my lifeline. A handsome and elegant-looking face came into my vision. I sobbed as tears streamed down my face, "My shoulder… it's dislocated! I want my brother! Please, find my brother!" The care of a stranger caused all the emotions that I had bottled up for the past few days to spill out. I buried myself in his embrace, just like how I had always run to my brother, Charles Lambert, whenever I felt wronged as a child. "Brother, I want my brother. Charles, they're bullying me! They're all bullying me! Everyone is despicable…" Jameson was stunned. Even the stranger seemed taken aback by my outburst. But I couldn't stop crying. The dam of emotions burst wide open, and I cried and cried. I missed my parents, and I missed Charles, who had always spoiled me. No matter what trouble I caused, he had always been there to protect me. If there was anyone who bullied me, he would have never forgiven them. But it was all gone, and I was heartbroken. I was the one who lost them. Because of the past seven cursed years, I had lost the family I loved the most!