Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

"Go!" Ethan yelled at Dennis up front.

I yanked myself free and banged on the car door. "Dennis, stop the car. I need to get out."

Dennis, predictably, ignored me.

Ethan shoved me back into the seat, and the partition between the front and back seats went up.

He pinned me down, gripping my hands tight, his eyes blazing and his breath ragged.

"Ethan, let go of me." I was surprisingly calm.

Two days later, I was still composed.

I imagined seeing Ethan again-no tears, no drama, just calm, like his choice that night didn't hurt me, and I didn't care. Yeah, I didn't care.

But my calmness seemed to set him off, and he kissed me impulsively.

His lips were hot, his breath warm.

I didn't fight back; I knew it was pointless. I wasn't gonna respond either. I just clenched my fists, gritted my teeth, and endured it.

Maybe my eerie calm and indifference pushed him over the edge. He kept kissing my lips, my face, my eyes, whispering hoarsely, "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" "Sir, where to next?" Dennis asked.

"Home," Ethan said.

"But..." Dennis hesitated.

"I said home," Ethan repeated, more forcefully.

Dennis eventually drove us to the villa entrance. I tried to get out from the other side, but Ethan scooped me up and carried me straight into the villa.

He laid me on the sofa and kept kissing me, but I still didn't respond.

This familiar place made my eyes well up.

I once thought I'd never come back here again.

Ethan cupped my face, kissing my tears, his face pressed against mine, unusually warm. "Baby, I'm sorry. Don't be mad at me, okay?"

"I'm not mad," I said.

Seeing the relief on Ethan's face, I continued with a heavy heart. "I'm just disappointed. It's different from being mad. When you're mad, you can calm down. But when you're disappointed, nothing you say will change my mind. It makes me start thinking about what this relationship really means."

He collapsed beside me, holding me tight like I'd vanish if he let go even a little.

"Baby, don't be disappointed in me." His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable.

I pushed him, but he wouldn't let go.

"Ethan, what's the point of this? You don't need to apologize to me. You've already seen your own heart clearly. I don't blame you. I said before if you meet someone you truly like, just tell me, and I'll willingly divorce you. So, let's get a divorce!"

Only I knew how much my heart was breaking right then.

He clung to me, burying his face in my neck, his breath hot as he pleaded, "No, I don't want a divorce! Baby, I'm sorry! Forgive me, don't leave me. We won't divorce, never."

Right now, he seemed like a scared kid afraid of being left alone. But wasn't I the one being abandoned?

I tried to move his hand, and when I touched his arm, it felt wet and sticky.

Suspicious, I brought my hand up to my eyes, and it was covered in blood.

"Ethan, what's wrong with you?" I pushed him.

He held me tighter, still murmuring, "Don't divorce, Baby, I'm sorry..."

I finally managed to break free from his grip. He opened his eyes with effort and immediately grabbed my hand again.

His brows furrowed in pain, and his voice was barely a whisper. "Baby, don't go. Don't leave me."

His arm was soaked, and because his suit was black, it wasn't obvious. But when I opened his suit, I saw his white shirt inside was stained red. His blood had also stained me and the sofa. I was trembling with fear. "Ethan, how did you end up like this?"

"Baby, don't leave me," he murmured like he was in a dream.

Seeing him like this, how could my heartache be fake?

I touched his forehead, and it was burning hot.

I panicked!

What should I do now? Shouldn't I just walk away without looking back? But seeing him like this, how could I leave him to die? Just like he saved me when I was most helpless. One thing at a time, now I have to save his life.

"Ethan, hold on. I'm calling 911." I trembled as I reached for my phone.

"No, don't call!" He grabbed my hand, his eyes closed, speaking weakly.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

I ran to the door and saw through the peephole that it was Dennis. I immediately opened the door.

Behind Dennis stood a man and a woman, both carrying medical kits.

"He refused to go to the hospital, so I brought the doctors here," Dennis said.

Seeing them was like seeing a lifeline. I quickly let them in.

Dennis and the two doctors moved Ethan to the upstairs bedroom.

"Where exactly is he hurt?" I stood by, panicking and at a loss.

"Do you have hot water? Please prepare some," the woman suddenly said to me.

I nodded and quickly went downstairs to boil water.

When I brought it back upstairs, they had already taken off Ethan's jacket.

Seeing the huge bloodstain on his white shirt, my head started pounding, and my legs felt like jelly.

The male doctor was using scissors to cut up from the cuff of his shirt.

Ethan looked at me with half-closed eyes, his voice barely a whisper, while raising his other hand. "Baby! Don't go!"

"Please help calm him down," the male doctor suddenly said to me.

I nodded and walked to the other side of the bed, holding his raised hand.

As they cut open his sleeve, the wound on his shoulder finally came into view.

I covered my mouth, staring in disbelief at the wound.

Was this a gunshot wound?

The male doctor first cleaned the blood around the wound and then focused on the surgery, while the woman, who seemed to be his assistant, handed him various tools as needed.

Ethan must've been in a lot of pain. Even though he didn't make a sound with his eyes closed, the beads of sweat on his forehead gave him away, and I could feel him gripping my hand tightly at times.

When they were extracting the bullet, I couldn't help but look even though I didn't want to. The moment the bullet was removed, blood gushed out.

Ethan frowned and groaned. I wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The doctor quickly applied medication to his wound and bandaged it.

The doctor handed me a bunch of medications. "These are oral meds. I've written down the instructions. Make sure the wound doesn't get wet. Also, he's running a fever now, so make sure he drinks plenty of water and eats light meals." I took the medications and said, "Got it."

Dennis was about to escort them out but seemed a bit uneasy. He glanced at Ethan lying on the bed and said to me meaningfully, "Thank you for your hard work!"

After they left, I went back to the room. Ethan seemed to be asleep, but his brows were still furrowed, indicating he wasn't sleeping well.

I walked to the bedside, looking at his bandaged arm.

I didn't get it. How did he end up with a gunshot wound?

I felt his forehead; it was still hot. I went to get a towel and placed it on his forehead.

"Baby!" Ethan suddenly called out and opened his eyes abruptly.

The moment he saw me, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and grabbed my hand. "Baby, thank goodness you're here."

Maybe due to excessive blood loss, his face was very pale. He looked at me like he was afraid I would leave at any moment.

"Since you're awake, take your medicine first." I pulled my hand away, grabbed the medicine and a cup of water, helped him sit up, and made him take the medicine before letting him lie down again.

As soon as I put down the cup, he grabbed my hand again, his eyes locked on mine. "Baby, I'm sorry I hurt you."

I didn't want to be swayed by his words anymore, so I faced him calmly. "Let's not talk about this now. Focus on getting better."

He nodded, "Okay."

But he still didn't let go of my hand.

"How did you get hurt?" I asked again.

Ethan was silent for a moment and then said lightly, "In business, it's inevitable to make enemies, and some people will go to great lengths to eliminate their competition."

Even though I didn't understand the business world, I knew competition was a given, whether in big or small businesses. But it shouldn't drive someone to such madness to eliminate a competitor.

I felt he was lying to me, but I didn't press further. If he didn't want to say, the answer wouldn't be truthful even if I pushed.

Ethan's thumb gently rubbed the back of my hand. "You've lost weight. Haven't you been eating?"

Ignoring the concern in his tone, my other hand instinctively moved to my abdomen.

I didn't answer his question, pulled my hand away, and stood up.

"I'll make some food. What do you want to eat?" I said, trying to change the subject.

He stared at me and said, "Make what you like. I'll eat whatever you eat."

The doctor said Ethan should eat light, and I also didn't want anything greasy, so I ended up making some pumpkin porridge.

Ethan's hand was injured, making it hard for him to lift his hand to eat, so I had to feed him.

I helped him sit up against the headboard and fed him while he stared at me.

This scene seemed to overlap with a moment from the past.

I still remember him saying, "I really want to spend my life with you."

Thinking of this, my nose stung, and my vision blurred.

"The porridge is cold. I'll get some hot." I said, my voice wavering.

I got up to leave, not wanting Ethan to see my tears.

But he pulled me back, took the bowl from my hand, placed it on the bedside table, and held me in his arms, kissing my hair as if silently comforting me.

"I don't want to eat anymore. Come up here; I want to hold you," he said.

Although I did crave his warmth, thinking about what had happened in the past two days and his words "Let Faye go," my rationality pulled my will back.

I pushed him away, speaking each word with difficulty but firmly, "I'll sleep in the guest room. Once you're healed, we'll get a divorce!"