Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace ( Dexter )
Chapter 183

Chapter 183 

The phone went dead, and I glanced at Colin, my mind racing. If he was the mastermind behind all this, would the culprit really drop his name Caleb that easily? 

Besides, Colin was known for having Eric do his dirty work, and Eric was tight–lipped as a clam 

he’d never let Caleb’s name slip. The fact that someone was so adamant that Caleb ordered the hit–and–run on Dexter’s mom was just too convenient. 

I knew Robin caught on to the setup, too; that’s why he gave me a heads–up with that call. 

Dexter would be out in no more than a fortnight, and it didn’t make sense for Hailey to take such a huge risk. 

Was someone trying to fan the flames between the Langleys and the Fitzgeralds? 

“Dexter’s morn’s been in an accident; I need to hit the hospital. Stay put,” I said, worry creasing my brow. The Langley mansion isn’t safe to leave right now – not with the media circus out there and whoever is pulling the strings behind the scenes. 

If the Fitzgeralds and the Langleys really went to war over Colin, his already precarious situation would only get worse. 

No matter how it played out, Henry stood to gain. He could go after Colin in the open, no holds barred. 

“Phoebe…” Colin started, that look in his eyes telling me he wanted to come along. 

“Stay.” I insisted, my voice firm. “You have to wait for me here.” 

His gaze darkened, a hint of panic lurking there. “You’re not… you’re not lying to me again, are you? You’re coming back, right?” 

I hesitated for a moment before shaking my head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Alright.” He nodded obediently. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes.” 

Something twisted in my chest as I turned and asked the butler to bring the car around. I had to go to the hospital. 

Dexter was still inside, and if he found out his mother was critically injured in an accident, he’d 

lose it. 

As I headed downstairs, I caught Eric marching up with a grim expression. 

I glanced back. The second–floor hallway was dimly lit, with Colin standing in the shadows, his face unreadable but his presence almost tangibly intense. 

My shoelace came undone: I crouched down to tie it. 

“Mr. Henry’s been too comfortable lately.” Colin’s voice was a low growl. 

Eric nodded in agreement. “Yes.” 

Chapter 183 

This whole mess was clearly orchestrated by him. 

“Make sure she’s protected. If she loses even a hair…” 

I could barely make out their conversation from the landing–Colin’s voice was rough and icy, a different man from the one who spoke to me daily. 

I must be hearing things, I thought, standing on my tiptoes to peer upstairs, Colin and Eric had already walked away. 

Colin… had he really lost his mind? 

“The car is ready, ma’am,” the nanny called out to me. 

I left the house, but just before getting into the car, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder. 

It wasn’t just paranoia; I felt eyes on me lately, 

I had a hunch that Henry wouldn’t let me carry my baby to term undisturbed. I was waiting for them to make a move, preparations in place. Yet, oddly, every time I felt watched, nobody came 

for me. 

I had this overwhelming sense that not only were there people after me and my unborn child, but someone was also guarding me from the shadows. 

Otherwise, with Henry and his son Julian’s temperaments, they would have come at me by 

now. 

At Sea City Hospital. 

Hailey had been rushed into a room by the time I arrived, still unconscious but out of immediate danger. 

I exhaled in relief, then turned anxiously to the doctor. “When will she wake up?” 

“She might come around by tomorrow. Don’t worry, it’s just a concussion,” the doctor said, giving some basic instructions before leaving. 

Robin was waiting outside, his face etched with concern. “It’s a trap, clear as day, but they’re pinning it on Caleb. No proof, but Dexter will probably buy it hook, line, and sinker.” 

If Dexter got out and believed Caleb was to blame, his hatred would only deepen. 

“If he had any sense, he’d see someone’s setting him up,” I snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. 

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