Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

The phone hit the blanket with a soft thud. I bit my lip to keep from screaming and glanced at Ethan, who was out cold thanks to the meds the doc gave him.

In a flash, a wave of pure terror washed over me, making every inch of me shake. Staring at the glowing phone screen, I took a sec to chill out. Once I was somewhat together, I grabbed the phone again. Fiona had been dead for eight years, and out of nowhere, she sent a text.

The message was short and creepy: [I've got a big surprise for you next month, be prepared!]

From the tone, it seemed like this wasn't their first chat.

But this was just too freaky!

I scrolled through the phone; no other messages from this number, probably wiped by Ethan.

I deleted the message, put the phone back, and snuggled under the covers.

Even wrapped up tight in the blanket, I felt a bone-deep chill, and my teeth were chattering like crazy.

What was the real deal here?

Could Fiona still be alive? But how? The news had covered her death big time. And if she wasn't dead, why had Ethan been in so much pain for years? Why was he so hell-bent on avenging her? But if Fiona was dead, how could I explain this text? Could ghosts be real?

No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't figure it out.

If Fiona wasn't dead and they'd been in touch, then what about me?

In his sleep, Ethan reached out and hugged me. His tired, innocent face made my heart ache.

This time, I decided to play dumb and see how things played out.

There had been plenty of times before when stuff that seemed serious to me turned out to be just misunderstandings.

I didn't want to jump the gun without knowing the truth anymore. And I didn't want our marriage to be as fragile as paper, easily torn apart by the slightest breeze.

When Ethan was discharged, he ditched the hospital gown and put on his white shirt. Dennis drove us back to the villa.

The villa door was open?

At this hour, Jason should be at work. Did he forget to close the door?

I stepped inside and immediately saw a woman sitting on the sofa, dropping what I was holding.

The woman on the sofa looked up and glanced in my direction.

No, she was actually looking at Ethan, who was walking in behind me.

She was beautiful, elegant, and charming, even more so than in the newspapers. When her gaze fell on Ethan behind me, her smile blossomed, exuding endless allure. Was Fiona really alive? This was a nightmare for me, but not for Ethan.

I dumbly turned to look at Ethan behind me.

He wasn't looking at me; his gaze was locked on Fiona as he steadily walked toward her.

At this moment, his eyes saw nothing else but her, only her.

"Ethan."

Seeing him so lost, my heart shattered. I called out to him, but he completely ignored me.

Fiona stood up from the sofa, opened her arms, and ran toward Ethan. They hugged tightly. Fiona initiated a kiss, and not only did he not refuse, but he also deeply responded. They kissed so passionately, like lovers reunited after a long time, completely disregarding my feelings.

And this scene felt like a knife to my heart. I walked toward them, tears streaming down my face. When the kiss finally ended, Fiona leaned against Ethan's chest, looking at me with pride and arrogance.

"Why are you still here? If you care about your dignity, you should quietly disappear now. Ethan loves me."

I ignored her and just looked at Ethan. Even if Ethan wanted to divorce me and kick me out, I needed to hear it from him.

Ethan looked at me, all the tenderness from the past gone, his expression indifferent as if looking at a stranger.

"I love Fiona all the time."

All the past tenderness instantly turned into the cruelest hurt, and my heart shattered into pieces as I cried out in pain.

It wasn't until I felt a tickle on my face that I opened my eyes. Ethan was gently kissing my cheek.

"What bad dream did you have? Crying so sadly?" he asked softly, kissing away my tears.

I reached out and touched my face, which was already wet, and my throat was still choked with sobs.

It was just a dream, but it felt so real. Every expression, action, and word they said, was so real.

Ethan kissed my eyes, a smile in his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to feel safe sleeping next to me? How could you have a nightmare? Or do you think I don't give you enough sense of security?"

"Do you love me?" I stared at him blankly.

His eyelashes fluttered slowly, and the corners of his lips curved slightly as he gently touched my lips. His was voice calm.

"Don't ask such silly questions again."

So he never really answered whether he loved me or not.

The doctor said it would be best for Ethan to stay in the hospital for a few more days. Since he had only been eating some oatmeal these past few meals, I planned to go home and make him some soup. The soup in the pot was bubbling away, and I hovered nearby to make sure it didn't spill over.

That text message kept gnawing at me, making me jittery. I accidentally brushed my wrist against the pot, burning myself and yelping in pain. Even though I quickly ran it under cold water, it still left a nasty mark. When I dished out the soup, I made two servings.

I grabbed a cab to the hospital and first dropped off one portion for Emma.

Emma was out cold, and Chase, who was sitting beside her, stood up when he saw me come in.

"I made some soup. Give it to her when she wakes up," I said.

Chase took the soup from me, his face a mix of emotions. He wasn't much of a talker. In the end, he just said thanks.

I headed to Ethan's room, and the door was slightly open.

Through the crack, I saw Victor chilling on the sofa.

Yesterday, I was wondering why Victor hadn't shown up to see Ethan in the hospital.

Victor's visit must've cheered Ethan up, right?

Since it was rare for them to catch up, I figured it wasn't the best time for me to barge in. I decided to take a stroll in the yard to give them some space.

But just as I turned to leave, I heard a woman's voice from inside.

"Ethan, you should go home. That way, someone can take care of you. You're so young, and your stomach's already in such bad shape. You must not be taking good care of yourself."

It was Linda's voice, unmistakable.

"No need. My wife is taking care of me," Ethan said flatly.

Victor snorted. "Wife? She took such good care of you that you ended up in the hospital?"

Hearing this, a wave of anger surged through me.

I spun around and pushed the door open, walking in step by step. For Ethan's sake, I tried hard to keep my cool.

Victor and Linda looked surprised at my sudden entrance, then annoyed.

I walked to the bedside, placed the thermos on the nightstand, and turned to face them, standing tall and speaking politely but firmly, "I didn't know Ethan had stomach problems. That's on me. So I made some soup to help him recover. I'll take good care of him from now on."

Victor leaned back on the sofa, his chin raised with an air of superiority. He didn't say anything, but his expression was full of disdain.

I cleared my throat and continued, "I also don't know what his stomach is made of. Despite your diligent care since he was young, it still ended up like this."

After saying that, I didn't bother looking at their faces. I opened the thermos and sat by the bed to feed Ethan some soup.

My words seemed harmless enough, but I knew they caught the underlying meaning. Still, if they wanted to find fault, they couldn't.

So, they stayed quiet, and the room was dead still.

The soup was hot, and I blew on each spoonful to cool it before feeding it to Ethan.

Ethan kept staring at me like he was seeing me in a whole new light.

Victor and Linda left, and I looked at Ethan, saying, "Should I not have come in? After all, it's rare for you to see your father."

Ethan didn't answer my question; he just looked at me intently.

"Emily, do you know? When you stop backing down because of external pressure, you seem to shine."

I laughed. "Shine? Really?"

After feeding him the soup, Ethan held my hand and noticed the burn mark on my wrist.

"What happened?" he asked, frowning with a hint of concern in his voice.

I told him I got burned while cooking.

He immediately said seriously, "From now on, don't cook yourself. Hire a maid or eat out, whatever works."

I thought he was exaggerating and laughed. "Isn't it normal to get burned while cooking? Should I stop cooking because I'm afraid of getting burned? Should I stop walking because I'm afraid of falling? Or avoid love because I'm afraid of getting hurt?"

In fact, after my failed marriage with Arthur, I did have a fear of love. But Ethan was like a magnet, attracting me and making me willing to be a moth to a flame.

After Ethan was discharged, life went back to its usual routine.

When I went back to the driving school, I didn't see Eloise, the woman who had scammed me. Instead, there was another woman about her age with the same name.

It was then that I realized the scammer must have gotten the real Eloise's information and impersonated her to scam people at the driving school.

And I was just particularly unlucky to be the one scammed.

Since Ethan's discharge, I had been paying special attention to his diet, keeping it light.

One day, I put oatmeal in the bowl and went to tidy up the living room. I found a tape of The Thorn Birds Band and, on a whim, put it in the tape recorder and hit play. When Fiona's song came on, I paused it.

I didn't press play again until I heard a car outside.

When Ethan walked in, Fiona's song was echoing through the living room.

I was wiping the table and didn't look up when I heard his footsteps.

But only I knew how fast my heart was beating.