My Future Self Called Never Choose Those Brothers Chapter 07

Daisy was practically hyperventilating as the police marched her out of the estate.

She kept thrashing around, looking back at Adrian and Brody, but neither of them could move a muscle to save her with security blocking them and Dad standing guard.

From this moment on, I was no longer the foolish Chloe who would soften her heart over a few pretty words.

Once the ballroom emptied out, Dad walked me up to my room and stood by the door/remaining silent for a long time.

“Chloe… did they make you suffer a lot before this?”

My nose stung with sudden tears.

In my past life, when he finally asked me that question, he was lying on a freezing hospital bed, his hands so cold that no matter how tightly I held them, I couldn’t warm them up.

But in this life, he was standing tall and strong right in front of me.

I threw myself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Dad, don’t ever trust them again. Adrian and Brody are monsters.

Dad gently stroked my back.

“All right. I believe you.”

I closed my eyes, a profound peace washing over me as I realized I had finally saved the most important person in my life.

By the next morning, news of Daisy’s arrest for grand larceny spread like wildfire through our elite social circle.

Her usual routine of playing the helpless victim failed completely because the physical evidence was undeniable; no one dared to claim she was just envious, and no one dared to call me petty.

Adrian and Brody spent three solid days camping outside the Winslow gates.

At first, they kept up their arrogant facades.

“Chloe, let me in!” Brody barked into the intercom.

“Chloe, we need to talk,” Adrian pleaded.

But the heavy iron gates of the Winslow Estate remained tightly shut.

By the fourth day, the financial foundation of the Shaws’ flagship project completely imploded, and debt collectors swarmed Brody’s racing club.

Completely stripped of their pride, they finally called my personal line, and I picked up.____

Adrian’s voice sounded incredibly hollow on the other end.

“Chloe… we were wrong. Can you please ask your dad to restore the funding for the project?”

Brody frantically snatched the phone away.

“Chloe, I’m begging you. I don’t give a damn about Daisy anymore. Just don’t ruin us like this.”

Listening to their desperate pleas, I found the entire situation deeply hysterical.

In my past life, when I knelt at their feet, sobbing and begging them to spare the Winslow family, how had they responded?

Adrian had told me, “Chloe, things have already reached this point. You need to accept your fate.”

Brody had said, “Even if the Winslow empire is gone, you still have us.”

Yet in the end, they stripped me of everything, including themselves.

“Adrian, Brody,” I said softly, my voice filled with mocking calm. “It’s time for you to accept your fate.”

With that, I ended the call.

My phone screen flickered violently for a split second, and the strange number from ten years in the future flashed across the glass one last time with a final text.

[Thank you. Dad is alive. The family is safe. And I finally don’t have to hurt anymore.]

As I stared at the text, a single tear slipped down my cheek and splashed onto the screen.

Within seconds, the message vanished into thin air, signaling that the painful, bloody road of my past life had been permanently severed.

I wiped my eyes and looked out the grand windows of my bedroom.

The morning sun was brilliant, and my eighteen-year-old self was standing in the brightest season of her life with two perfect eyes and ten flawless fingers.

Downstairs, Dad’s voice echoed up the stairwell, calling me down for breakfast, and the Winslow Estate stood grand and untouched by fire.

In this lifetime, I would never choose Adrian, and I would never choose Brody.

would only ever choose myself.

I assumed that by expelling them from the Winslow family, the nightmare of my past life would be entirely eradicated.

But on the fifth day after the engagement party, while I was sitting in the study helping Dad review some corporate contracts, my phone buzzed with an incoming text from an unknown number.

[Miss Winslow, your father is scheduled to visit the South Bay project site at three o’clock this afternoon. Do not let him ride in the black Maybach.]

My fingertips went completely rigid.

The South Bay project.

The black Maybach.

In my past life, that exact trip was where Dad met his fatal accident when the brakes mysteriously failed, sending the vehicle plunging through the guardrails and off the overpass.

He survived for just twenty-four hours in the ICU, leaving me with nothing but a final, breathless whisper: “Chloe, you have to survive.”

In an instant, my blood went ice cold.

Noticing my sudden paleness, Dad frowned with concern. “Chloe, what’s wrong?”

I bolted upright from my chair. “Dad, don’t go to South Bay today.”

Dad blinked in surprise.

“There’s a critical issue at the construction site. I have to oversee it personally.”