“Let’s go!”

With a sharp wave, Nelson turned and marched toward his car, his entourage falling in step behind him.

As Brady watched them leave, the realization hit hard—Colleen’s silence wasn’t random. Her family had stepped in and shut it down.

The Hayes family had made it clear he wasn’t worthy of their approval. But Brady couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it end like this. Not without a fight. Not without standing up for what they had.

Spurred by resolve, Brady spun on his heel, heading for the garage. But he nearly collided with Eric and Phillips as he turned.

“Where are you going?” Eric asked.

He and Phillips had been there the whole time. Not close enough to hear every word, but enough to see what mattered. Enough to witness the tension.

Seeing Brady’s agitated state, Eric was wary of what the younger man might do.

“Mr. Scott?” Brady’s jaw clenched. His voice was sharp, defensive. “This doesn’t concern you. Stay out of it.”

Eric let out a dry, hollow chuckle, as if he wanted to be involved in whatever drama this was. Still, in that moment, Hadley’s face flashed through his mind—her eyes full of concern.

“If you’re headed to the Hayes residence, I have to stop you,” Eric said firmly. “Did you not hear Nelson? You’re practically volunteering for a beating. Or do you plan on breaking your sister’s heart too?”

“My sister?” Brady let out a bitter laugh, his eyes blazing. “You have the nerve to bring her up? You, of all people? The one who hurt her the most?”

The accusation hit Eric like a slap. And in that moment of hesitation, Brady slipped past him and took off running.

“Mr. Scott…” Phillips glanced at Eric, his voice low and unsure. “Should we… go after him?”

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Eric exhaled sharply, snapping out of his thoughts. He gave a curt nod, his jaw set. “Let’s go!” Then louder, he commanded, “Follow Brady!”

“Uh—yes, sir!” Phillips responded quickly, already moving.

The rain showed no signs of stopping.

Brady had indeed driven straight to the Hayes residence.

Stepping out of the car, he opened his umbrella and stood before the grand iron gates, rainwater pooling at his feet. He inhaled deeply—once, twice—trying to steady the storm raging inside him.

He had been here many times before, always stopping at this very spot to drop Colleen off. But he had only ever set foot inside once—on the day of her birthday party.

Despite his efforts to calm himself, the anxiety only tightened its grip. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as if warning him to turn back. But he couldn’t.

Brady took one last deep breath and pressed the doorbell, shutting his eyes tightly as though silently begging fate to send Colleen to him.

Instead, a member of the household staff answered. “Hello, how may I help you?”

Brady straightened his posture, forcing calm into his voice. “Good evening. My name is Jenkins. I need to speak with Colleen.”

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