Too Late For Regrets, Mr. Billionaire (Brianna Meyers and Brandon Levy) novel Chapter 32

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Seeing Brianna shaking with fury from head to toe, Patsy asked worriedly, “What did that vixen say to you? You okay?”

Brianna gasped for breath, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Want to head to the hospital?” Patsy’s voice cracked as she grabbed Brianna’s hand, trying to unclench her fist. Her own hands trembled violently.

Brianna was too enraged to speak. She just wanted to tear her enemies apart with her bare hands.

With Brianna looking so unsteady, barely able to stay on her feet, Patsy panicked and dialed Tristan.

He showed up fast and spotted Brianna crumpled on the ground, huddled in Patsy’s arms, twitching and shuddering.

In a flash, he scooped her up in his arms. “Come on, to the hospital.”

He hustled to the parking lot, Patsy yanking open the car door. Tristan eased her into the back seat, jumped in, and slammed on the gas, wishing he could rocket them there.

Tires screeched and the engine roared across the lot.

“What the hell happened?” Tristan demanded.

“No idea, we bumped into her dad and that vixen. The old hag whispered something to her, and she totally lost it.”

“You weren’t with her?”

“Her dad dragged me off to the side.”

Tristan said, “Hold on, Brianna, we’re almost there.”

As they approached the hospital, Brianna started to settle down a little.

She pushed herself upright and rolled down the window, letting the cold wind whip across her face.

“Any better?” Patsy asked, steadying her.

“Skip the hospital.” The fresh air had cleared her mind a bit. “Just drop me at home.”

“We’re right here, might as well get you checked,” Tristan pressed, still concerned.

“I’m good. Let’s head back. Hospitals feel too claustrophobic.”

Seeing she wouldn’t budge, Tristan swung the car around and took her home.

They guided her inside and settled her on the sofa. Patsy fetched a glass of water and tucked a blanket around

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Chapter 32

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Tristan’s brows knit together tightly. “What did that old witch say to rattle you like this?”

Brianna sipped the water, then slowly shut her eyes and leaned back against the sofa.

“She said… they murdered my mom.” Her voice caught, tears tracing steady paths down her face.

Patsy’s eyes welled up too.

“That bitch!” Tristan smacked the sofa in rage. “And your dad knows?”

“Remember that gas poisoning when I was a kid, Mom and I almost died? Turns out it was my dad behind it.”

Even though she’d cut emotional ties with Whitney long ago, the idea of him risking her life for Blanca and Darcy still hit her like a gut punch.

“No way, she’s just messing with your head to provoke you. Don’t let it get to you,” Patsy soothed.

“He’s more than capable,” Brianna said tonelessly.

“Then screw waiting. Call the police! Lock those scum up and get justice for your mom,” Tristan raged.

“You can’t file a report without evidence. What are you even accusing them of without proof?” Patsy cut to the chase.

“So we let them get away with it?” Tristan shot back.

“We can’t nail them yet. It’s got to be one step at a time,” Patsy replied.

“Damn it, I’ve never felt this helpless in my whole life!” Tristan boiled over, his anger pent up with no outlet.

“Mom was driving and on the phone when she crashed, an unknown number, call lasted around ten minutes. I was too devastated back then to dig into it, but now… that bitch was probably the one calling.”

Brianna racked her brain, piecing together the old memories.

“Is the number still in there? I’ll track it down,” Tristan said.

Brianna stood up and went upstairs to her closet, rummaging through an old box to pull out Trina’s phone from years ago.

The phone had gotten smashed in the accident, but the Harper family had it fixed and the data recovered so they could salvage some memories and keepsakes.

For all these years, Brianna had held onto it.

Whenever she missed Trina, she’d power it up and scroll through the selfies, feeling like she was right there with her.

She turned it on, navigated to the call history, and passed it to Tristan.

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He noted down the number and handed the phone back. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure out for sure if that old witch made the call.”

Patsy furrowed her brow. “Even if we prove it was her on the line, whatever she said to your mom, and whether it directly led to the crash, it’s all unprovable now. Dead end legally; we couldn’t pin anything on her.”

Brianna covered her face with her hands in despair. “Why do the wicked always get away scot–free?”

Recovering Trina’s jewelry seemed impossible, and holding them accountable for her death felt even more out of reach. She thought, ‘How could I ever get real justice for my mom?‘

A profound helplessness engulfed her, dragging her toward an endless void.

Just then, Caroline called.

Brianna drew a deep breath and shifted to a bright, upbeat voice, “Grandma?”

Caroline said, “Brianna, how are you holding up?”

Brianna hesitated. Obviously, someone in the family had clued Caroline in on the online buzz.

“I’m okay, dealing with it. Don’t stress; internet drama doesn’t really hit where it hurts.”

“What a nightmare! He’s been like a ghost of a husband all along, and the second you build something real on your own, he pops up like a zombie.” Caroline’s tone seethed with bitterness, laying every fault at Brandon’s feet.

She thought, ‘Brandon is Brianna’s bad luck charm, plain and simple.‘

Brianna said, “It’s fine, Grandma. A bit of backlash is nothing.”

Brianna kept things light, determined not to burden Caroline.

“What’s he ever done for you anyway? Backdoor favors? The man couldn’t swing a door open to save his life. Take my advice, don’t dither like your mom did. When it’s time to cut loose, do it. Divorce him already!”

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