Joselle cat-walked toward them, the rhythmic click of her heels slicing through the stillness of the hospital hallway.
Her luscious black hair cascaded down her back, catching the low light in silky waves.
Plump, crimson lips curved into a practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Her model-like figure, accentuated by the fitted jeans and top she wore, made her presence impossible to ignore.
She stopped in front of Jason, eyes roaming over his cast before she tilted her head, a nostalgic glint in her gaze. "How are you, Jason?" she asked, voice smooth and saccharine. Her manicured hand reached out, brushing the edge of his cast. "Remember when I used to sign your cast in school? All over, until there wasn't a spot left?"
Jason's expression remained icy, his eyes hard as he pulled back just enough to break contact. "Things have changed, Joselle," he said, the coolness in his tone making it clear he wanted distance.
Her smile faltered for a moment, then she straightened, the light in her eyes sharpening with something more urgent. "Ryan is here," she said, watching his face for any sign of reaction.
"Hospitalized…because of you."
Jason's lips twitched, but it wasn't with concern. "Oh, shucks. As if I wouldn't be the one in there… my luck," he muttered, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
The playful edge in Joselle's demeanor cracked. Her eyes widened, and her hands curled into fists at her sides. "I'm going to tell your father," she snapped, voice breaking. "Is this what it's come to, Jason? Just because you're a boss now, a CEO, you think you can act so cold toward your friends? Toward me?"
Tears welled up, catching the corner of her mascara-darkened eyes. Her chest rose and fell as she fought for composure. "What did I do to deserve this?" she whispered, and the desperation in her voice was raw now, vulnerable. "Please, I can't… I can't survive without you, Jason."
Jason's eyes softened for just a moment, but the mask slipped back into place as he stepped forward. Joselle's face lit up, hope sparking as she reached out, her fingers trembling.
But he walked past her, not sparing her another glance. Her outstretched hands hovered in the air, frozen in shock as he continued down the hallway. Vincent followed a step behind, his eyes darting between them as if he couldn't quite believe the scene himself.
Joselle's expression twisted from disbelief to fury. She yanked off one of her designer Jimmy Choo heels and flung it toward Jason's retreating figure, the air slicing with a sharp whistle.
Before it could make contact, Vincent's hand shot out, catching the shoe with precise, practiced ease. He looked back at Joselle over the top of his glasses, an amused grin on his face as he winked.
"Nice try," he said, dropping the heel onto the floor with a quiet thud before turning to follow Jason out.
Joselle stood there, stunned, her breath ragged as the echoes of their footsteps faded into the sterile silence.
Joselle stood in the middle of the hallway, her hands shaking, chest heaving as anger and disbelief warred within her. The audacity of it all—Jason brushing past her as if she were invisible, Vincent catching her thrown shoe like it was nothing but a playful toss. She pressed her lips together, feeling the sting of tears she refused to let fall.
No, she thought, her fingers clenching at her sides. He doesn't get to treat me like this.
Meanwhile, Jason and Vincent moved down the hallway, the silence between them weighted by an unspoken tension. Jason's steps were quick and forceful, each one echoing like a drumbeat in the quiet corridor. The cast on his arm barely slowed him down, but the scowl on his face deepened with each stride.
"Boss," Vincent ventured, trying to match Jason's pace, "you sure about walking out like that? Joselle's not exactly known for taking things well."
Jason's jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck flexing. "Let her do what she wants," he said, voice clipped. "I'm done entertaining her theatrics."
Vincent pushed up his glasses, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Joselle hadn't followed. "She's going to tell your father, you know. And Ryan being here… that's not just coincidence. You know that, right?"
Jason stopped abruptly, turning to face Vincent. His eyes were sharp, colder than Vincent had ever seen them. "What are you trying to say?"
Vincent hesitated, then sighed. "I'm saying it feels like all the old players are being drawn back in. Ryan showing up, Joselle throwing her tantrums… it's starting to look like the past is catching up."
Jason's eyes narrowed as he considered Vincent's words. The thought had crossed his mind, gnawing at the back of his consciousness, but he didn't want to admit it. Not yet.
"Let it catch up," he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not the same person I was back then."
They resumed walking, the sterile white walls stretching endlessly ahead of them. The hallway turned into a blur as Jason's mind churned, memories surfacing one by one: late nights fueled by bad decisions, Ryan's reckless behavior, and Joselle's obsession masked as loyalty.
They reached the elevator at the end of the hall, and Vincent pressed the button. The wait felt longer than usual, the silence between them growing louder. The doors finally slid open with a soft ding, and they stepped inside. Jason leaned back against the wall, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Think she'll really go to your father?" Vincent asked, breaking the silence, his tone carefully neutral.
"She might," Jason said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could almost be a smile. "But I doubt he'll care. He's had enough of Ryan's antics and Joselle's schemes for years. They're old news."
Vincent nodded, though the worry hadn't fully left his eyes. "Still, better to be prepared. You know how she gets when she feels cornered."
Jason's gaze hardened. "I'm always prepared."
The elevator doors opened with another soft ding, and they stepped out into the lobby. The buzz of hospital activity picked up around them: nurses bustling from room to room, the faint hum of conversation, and the rhythmic beeping of monitors drifting in the air. But the noise barely registered with Jason.
They walked toward the exit, the automatic doors sliding open as the cool night air rushed in. Jason's mind was already ten steps ahead, calculating his next move. He knew he couldn't let Joselle's words get to him, but the idea of her meddling brought a headache he didn't need.
"Sir," Vincent said, pausing by the entrance, "if Joselle does reach out to your father, do you want me to…?"
Jason shook his head, cutting him off. "No. Let her dig her own hole. I'm not interested in saving her from it."
A flash of movement caught their attention. From the corner of his eye, Jason saw Joselle storming out of the hospital, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement, her other shoe still in her hand. Her hair whipped around her face as she spotted them, eyes blazing with fury.
"Jason!" she shouted, her voice slicing through the night. She stormed up to him, cheeks flushed, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "This isn't over. You don't get to walk away from me like that."
Jason stood still, his expression impassive. "Go home, Joselle."
Her hand twitched, the shoe in her grasp trembling. "Don't you dare tell me to go home. Do you even know what you're doing? Pushing everyone away like this? Ryan is here, and you're acting like it's just another day."
Jason's eyes darkened, the calm in his demeanor turning icy. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
Her mouth opened, ready to unleash another tirade, but Vincent stepped forward, smoothly placing himself between them. "Ms. Joselle, this isn't the time or place," he said, his voice polite but firm.
Joselle's eyes flicked to Vincent, her anger sparking even higher. She took a breath, ready to argue, but instead, she turned back to Jason, her expression crumbling into something desperate. "Please, Jason," she whispered. "I can't… I can't survive without you."
Jason's eyes flickered, but his resolve didn't waver. He took a step forward, and for a moment, Joselle's eyes lit up with hope. She extended her free hand, waiting for the embrace that never came. Jason walked past her without a word.
The hope in her eyes shattered, replaced by disbelief and then rage. She snapped, hurling her shoe at his back. The sharp crack of the heel slicing through the air was met with Vincent's hand catching it mid-flight.
Vincent looked over his glasses at Joselle, one eyebrow raised. He flashed her a brief, cocky wink before dropping the designer shoe at her feet and turning to follow Jason out.
Joselle stood there, staring at the shoe, her chest heaving with anger and humiliation. The hospital lights above her cast harsh shadows across her face, accentuating the tears that now streamed down her cheeks.
In the distance, Jason and Vincent walked into the darkened parking lot, their figures disappearing into the night.