My Cousin Faked Illness to Steal My Boyfriend, He Turned the Tables Chapter 05

My Cousin Faked Illness to Steal My Boyfriend, He Turned the Tables Chapter 05

Greyson stopped in his tracks.

I thought he was going to snap back.

But his tone shifted.

“Sympathy has to go to the right person. If you’re really that sick, maybe take it easy.”

Iris froze.

She probably thought he was softening up.

Then Greyson added, “Don’t wear yourself out chasing drama.”

The words weren’t harsh, but they drained what little color was left in her face.

On the drive back, I asked him, “What did you mean by that last comment?”

Greyson steered the wheel. “The label on her pill bottle was brand new, but the bottle itself was scuffed and worn. That’s not a prescription she takes regularly.”

I didn’t quite catch his meaning.

“She might not be as sick as she claims,” he explained.

“That’s impossible,” I denied instinctively. “My family’s been making allowances for that illness for twenty

years.”

Greyson glanced at me. “What if the thing you’ve been making allowances for all this time was never worth

the sacrifice?”

The streetlights outside the car window flashed past one after another.

I suddenly remembered something Savannah had said before she left.

She said, “Hadley, some people aren’t actually weak. They just know that playing weak is the most effective weapon.”

The next morning, Iris beat us to the punch.

She posted a photo in the family group chat.

In the picture, her hair was soaked, her shoulders were covered in stains, and her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

She attached a long paragraph.

She claimed she was just worried Greyson wasn’t feeling well and never expected to be humiliated like this.

She wrote that I had hated her since we were kids, and that I had even trained my boyfriend to target her.

She concluded by saying she didn’t blame me but only blamed her own poor health for making her such a

nuisance to everyone.

The group chat exploded.

Aunt Evelyn said I was heartless.

Our cousin Mateo remarked that Greyson was just some diner cook with an attitude problem.

Grandma sent a voice note, her voice shaking. “Hadley, bring Greyson back here right now to apologize.”

I stared at the screen, my palms cold.

Greyson set breakfast down in front of me. “Eat first before we go back.”

“You still want to go?” I asked.

“She set up the stage,” he said. “If I don’t show up to perform, all her hard work goes to waste.

When we arrived at the Matthews Estate, the living room was packed with relatives.

Iris was leaning into Aunt Nova’s arms, her tears flowing the moment her eyes landed on Greyson.

Grandma slammed her cane against the floor. “Greyson, apologize to Iris.”

“Why?” Greyson asked.

“You know exactly why,” Grandma snapped.

Greyson pulled out his phone and cast the photos from last night directly onto the TV screen.

The slap mark on my face.

The silhouette of Iris approaching the couch while wearing my jacket.

A close-up shot of her holding the medicine bottle in her hand ahead of time.

Silence fell over the living room.

Aunt Nova shrieked, “A photo doesn’t prove anything! You came prepared just to set Iris up!”

Greyson nodded. “Then let’s watch the video.”

Iris bolted upright.

She had no idea that Greyson had left his car keys on the coffee table last night.

There was a tiny camera hidden in the keychain.

On the screen, Iris approached Greyson while wearing my jacket.

Her recorded voice echoed through the room, “Mr. Brown, Hadley is asleep. Can I tell you something straight?”

The expressions on our relatives’ faces grew more spectacular by the second.

Iris lunged forward, trying to shut off the TV.

Greyson blocked her.

“Didn’t you want justice? Justice is playing right now.”