The Rise of betrayed husband Vol.2

Chapter 101: Out of Sync

Claire was furious, but she didn’t explode. She told their oldest daughter to get to bed early, then went calmly back downstairs.

Ethan and their second daughter were still at the island. She gave them little more than the usual bedtime reminders before heading back to the bedroom.

She washed carefully, dabbed on a seductive perfume, slipped into a silky negligee, and waited on the bed for Ethan. He picked up on the signal, of course, and the two of them made love once again.

Afterward she was too spent to move.

Yet she wasn’t sleepy.

Through half-closed eyes she watched Ethan in the soft light, his breathing already slow and even. Obsession, guilt, regret, rage, the urge to control him—a tangle of emotions flooded her heart.

She’d shared a bed with this man for well over a decade. By rights she should have grown tired of him long ago. Instead she was still hopelessly hooked on his body: healthy and strong, well-proportioned, with real muscle—not the stiff gym bulk built on protein powder and hormones. And, of course, he had what gave her the greatest pleasure of all.

Every time she slept with him, she came away completely satisfied, completely released. After a hectic day at the Group, one thorough session with Ethan at night and a single stretch of sleep, she’d wake up bursting with energy.

That was Ethan’s greatest value.

But lately, when they were together, she’d sensed a change in him. It wasn’t ED or any other problem of that sort. She simply couldn’t feel his love anymore. He seemed to be going through the motions, or just using her for release.

He wasn’t gentle anymore.

When it was over, he rolled over and went to sleep—no more cleaning her up, no more tender aftercare.

All of it seemed to have started after he’d produced those paternity results.

Ethan, how much do you actually know?

She turned it over and over in her mind until, without realizing it, she drifted off.

Half-asleep, she felt someone taking liberties with her. She opened her eyes and turned her head to find Ethan at work behind her.

It went on and on with no sign of him stopping. She told him to stop, again and again, but he wouldn’t listen. Finally, seething, she slapped him hard—with real force behind it.

”You’re hurting me! Get off!”

The next second, Ethan’s hand was locked around her throat. She could feel the enormous strength in his grip; her neck felt like it might snap at any moment, and she was sure she was about to suffocate.

Just as it became unbearable, he let go, pulled away from her, and went to wash up.

Claire gulped down air in great mouthfuls. Only then did she realize how beautiful and precious it was simply to be alive.

Once she’d recovered, the fury came flooding back. She followed him into the bathroom and found him in the shower, still hard and standing proud. She honestly wanted to grab a pair of scissors, march in, and snip off half of it—half would still be plenty.

”You suspect me, so you torment me like this? Are you even a man? This is the first time, and it’ll be the last. If you ever disrespect me like that again, you’re not touching me!”

”Our sex life is out of sync. Our personalities don’t match. Your family doesn’t like me. The kids are bastards you had with other men. Whatever we felt for each other is gone. Everything says there’s no point in staying together, and you still won’t agree to a divorce. What exactly do you want me to do?”

”It’s all a misunderstanding!”

Ethan glanced at his watch again. Not even four. He’d gotten up too early, and he had surgery during the day; he needed to be rested. He shut off the water, toweled off, and went back to bed.

Seeing that he still hadn’t cooled down, Claire didn’t hurry back to bed. She stood beside it with her arms folded. Ethan said nothing, and she didn’t feel like talking either.

A little while later, she saw he’d genuinely fallen asleep, with no further intention of bothering her.

She still couldn’t sleep. She threw a blanket around herself and went to the study.

Her other phone lit up with a text. That person was inviting her to a milk-bath soak at the spa that evening—there was something important to discuss.

She replied with a single word: “Fine.”

When Ethan woke, he didn’t say another word to his wife. He dressed neatly and left without saying goodbye to the kids.

He checked on last night’s surgical patient and found him completely out of danger. The chance of any serious post-op complication was low; recovery was the next stage.

He looked in on Clay Lawson as well. He was confident he could get the man to talk, but he was in no hurry. He wanted two things: to get Clay to open his mouth, and then to make sure he shut it again.

At noon, the latest news on Clay’s wife and children came in. Ethan decided it was time to lay his cards on the table and headed to the ward.

The two of them were alone.

”Your wife and kids aren’t doing well,” Ethan said. “Your son still has a chance of recovering…”

He watched Clay’s dull eyes turn sharp and bright. The man raised a trembling hand as if to write something, but he couldn’t even hold a pen steady.

Ethan put a few acupuncture needles into him. Gradually Clay’s hand stopped shaking. He gripped the pen and wrote: “Save my son.”

”Your son isn’t at Easton General, and there’s only so much I can do. You know how vicious the Washington circle is. If they find out I helped you, they won’t let me off lightly. I have no obligation to stick my neck out for you—unless you make it worth my while.”

”All the money is yours.”

”Damn it, do I look like I need money? I want to know who Claire Lowell’s lover is.”

”The Master.”

”The Master? Who’s that supposed to be? A name, an address—give me something I can use to find the bastard.”

”Tony Wexler. Felicity Gardens. Ethan, save my boy. I’m begging you.”

”I’ll do everything I can.”

”I’ll pay you. A lot. Please, just save my son.”

”Keep your money. Leave it for your kids.”

Ethan withdrew the needles. Clay could no longer hold the pen; every time he tried to move his hand, it shook uncontrollably.

Ethan destroyed the scrap of paper, went back to his office, and asked a patient’s relative who worked in law enforcement to look into a Tony Wexler of Felicity Gardens.

Tony Wexler, forty-five. Three cars worth over fifty thousand dollars each, one of them a Bentley. Five properties and eight storefronts. Special advisor to at least ten companies, including three subsidiaries of Claire’s Group. Humanities professor at Easton University, visiting professor at the Easton Business School, and a self-styled expert in astrology and tarot.

Ethan searched online and found photos of Tony Wexler at university events; only then did he see what the man looked like. Tall enough, with high cheekbones, a pointed, weaselly face, and smoker’s teeth—nowhere near handsome. He wore loose linen tunics like some yoga guru, a sandalwood bead bracelet on his wrist, and what looked like a chunky turquoise pendant around his neck.

Ethan found him tacky through and through.

But when he thought of this man pawing all over his wife, being inside her, even getting her pregnant, he felt so sick he nearly threw up.

Claire, you actually cheated on me with a man like that? You have no taste at all.

He couldn’t stand it. He left the hospital at once and raced toward the Group.

He kicked open the security gate and warned the guards not to get in his way unless they wanted to be fired.

The guards all knew who Ethan was. They hurried to alert the people upstairs.

Ethan rode the elevator to the top floor and went straight to his wife’s office. She wasn’t there. Her assistant said she was in a shareholders’ meeting, so he headed for the conference room.

”Ethan, Ms. Lowell is in a meeting. What are you doing?” Sophie rushed over to block him.

Smack!

”Keep covering for that Lowell woman—I dare you!”

After the ringing slap, Ethan went on to the conference room. There was no keycard to bother with—he kicked the big double doors wide open.

”Claire Lowell, get the hell out here!”

Chapter 102: Ethan Snaps

Sophie was stunned, but she reacted fast. She had security and the bodyguards grab Ethan and haul him off to the office.

Ethan didn’t have the strength to fight them off, and they forced him down onto the sofa. His rage was nowhere near spent, though. He kicked the antique mahogany coffee table so hard its delicate carved inlay cracked clean through.

”Let him go. I want to see what kind of tantrum he’s throwing.” Claire appeared, her face full of suspicion and ice. She was thoroughly displeased that Ethan had made such a scene.

Ethan got up and kicked the coffee table again. Having let off some steam, he calmed down quite a bit.

He sent Sophie and the others out once more. He wanted to question his wife alone.

”Are we getting divorced or not?” he asked flatly.

”You came here and caused all this trouble just for that? Then let me tell you: you can tear this place down, and I still won’t divorce you.” Claire glared at him, angry and a little scornful. She’d seen through what he was up to long ago.

”Claire, the shameful things you’ve done have already come to light. You can’t cover them up anymore.” Ethan stepped forward, grabbed her by the lapels of her suit, and looked at her with equal parts anger and contempt.

”Now I know why you refuse to believe the paternity results,” he went on. “You’re not afraid of admitting the kids aren’t mine. It’s that your goddamn brain has been washed by that fucking Master. You’re superstitious about him. You’re not in your right mind anymore! He tells you to keep koi and a money turtle, and you do it. He tells you to have his kids, and you do that too. Claire, I never imagined you’d let a charlatan play you like this!”

”You—what nonsense are you talking about?” There was a hint of panic in her eyes, and yet, almost in spite of herself, a flicker of relief as well.

”Tony Wexler! Your lover’s that piece of trash Tony Wexler, isn’t he? You thought you could hide it from me forever? Now, are we divorcing or not?”

”We’re not.”

”Still no? Do you want me to kill you right here?”

”Ethan, I’ve told you. If you want to prove I cheated, show me the evidence. Otherwise I’m not divorcing you. If you’ve got the guts, go ahead and kill me!”

”You… you’re completely unreasonable!”

In a rage, Ethan slapped her across the face, hard enough to split the corner of her mouth.

”Divorce or not?” he roared.

”Not!”

Claire spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and faced him down, not giving an inch. She was afraid of him, and deeply hurt that he’d struck her, but that only made her more determined. She would not give him what he wanted. However he treated her now—cursing her, even hitting her—it all meant he still loved her.

”You really have no shame. I offered you a peaceful separation and you threw it away. You’ll regret this.”

Ethan couldn’t very well beat his wife to death, of course. If he did, his own life would be over too.

He let go of her and stormed out.

In the car, he sent Tony Wexler’s photo to his father-in-law and mocked him mercilessly—congratulating him on his future son-in-law, a genuine Master, and suggesting he have the Master read his horoscope and bless him with a hundred years of life, a houseful of grandsons, and a fortune to match.

What he hadn’t expected was that his father-in-law was already on his way over, bodyguards in tow. They cut off Ethan’s car, and without a word Richard Lowell had his men drag Ethan out and give him a beating.

This time Ethan didn’t just take it the way he had before. He shoved back and struggled against the bodyguards. Naturally, he was no match for them. They soon had him on the ground, kicking and stomping on him.

Just then Lily Reid’s people arrived and clashed with Richard’s bodyguards.

”Ethan, are you all right?”

Lily helped him up. Once she’d made sure his head hadn’t been hit, his handsome face hadn’t been ruined, and he wasn’t badly hurt, she relaxed.

She didn’t ask many questions. She had her people cover them and left with Ethan.

By the time Claire rushed over, all she found was Ethan’s abandoned car and injured bodyguards on both sides. Her father hadn’t gotten out of his car, though, so he was fine.

”Dad, I can handle this. Take your people and go.”

”That ungrateful bastard can’t be kept. Keep him around long enough and all you’ll end up with is an enemy.”

Ignoring her father’s lecture, Claire went after Lily and Ethan.

”Tell me, how the fuck am I worse than this guy? Claire actually cheated on me with him?”

Ethan and Lily had reached the shore of Lake Vermilion. He still needed Lily’s influence to get his revenge on Tony Wexler, so he didn’t hide his suspicions about the man.

”He really doesn’t compare to you, looks-wise. Tony Wexler? One of the Wexlers, then. In that case, I can sort of understand Claire cheating with him. He does the astrology, the tarot, the numerology, all that mystical stuff. He’s a smooth talker, and very good at playing women.”

”I asked you to tell me how worthless he is. How did you end up saying I’m the one who doesn’t measure up? Are you trying to make me feel like even more of a failure?” He sighed. “Forget it. If everyone says I’m not as good as him, then of course Claire found someone better. Beauty picks the beast now, apparently. Claire’s that cheap—maybe getting played by an ugly man excites her more. Cheap! Fuck!” He dragged on his cigarette so hard he nearly burned through half of it in one breath.

”Ethan, you’re really not calm right now. I’m worried you’ll lose control and do something you can’t take back.” It was the first time Lily had seen him this angry. She realized he had a vicious side, too.

”This is me being calm. Back at the Group, I could have stabbed that Lowell woman. I had a scalpel on me when I went up there.” He lit another cigarette.

”Did Claire agree to the divorce?”

”She says since I didn’t catch her and Tony Wexler in bed, she’s going to play dirty. She won’t admit she cheated, and she won’t agree to a divorce.”

”You don’t have proof you caught them in the act, and you still went after her on impulse? That’s not like you.”

”I have my reasons. Clay Lawson is the one who told me about Wexler. He knows both Wexler and Claire well. If Clay suspects something between Wexler and Claire, it’s not coming from nowhere. And Claire is deeply superstitious about Wexler. At home she keeps special koi he gave her, and a money turtle. There are other things in the house from him, too. Next to the wine collection and the antique porcelain, they’re ordinary—hardly worth mentioning, really. Yet she treasures them. What does that tell you? You’re a woman; you can figure it out. You showed up at the right time. Help me get a sample from Wexler so I can run paternity tests against Natalie and the girls.”

”Strictly speaking, what you’ve got doesn’t really count as—”

”Lily, don’t be naive! Do I have to watch them rolling around in bed before it counts as proof of an affair? That’s not how you get to the bottom of something. When I think that Natalie and the others might not be my daughters, I can’t…” His chest suddenly tightened, and he could barely get the words out. All three daughters were bastards his wife had with other men. If he’d been even a little weaker mentally, he would have collapsed on the spot.

”I’ll help you.” Lily looked at Wexler’s photo and silently mocked Claire. She actually had an affair with a man like this? She must be blind. More than anything, though, she felt for Ethan. He’d loved his wife so deeply, and she’d betrayed him—with a man who wasn’t even his equal. What a blow that must have been.

She sighed. If he didn’t let this break him, she thought, he’d come out of it more mature, and his heart would be stronger for it.

Just then her phone rang. Seeing a D.C. number, she turned away to answer.

”I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to remind me. I’m not meddling in someone else’s family affairs—I’m protecting my mother-in-law’s attending physician. Don’t go slapping labels on me.”

When she saw Ethan stand up as if to leave, Lily hurriedly hung up.

”Ethan, where are you going?”

”To the hospital. Life goes on. Never mind—your family doesn’t want you around me, so let’s not see each other anymore. If anything comes up, call me.”

Ethan looked up and saw his wife up ahead. He frowned. Not wanting to face her, he turned and walked the other way.

But Claire hurried after him and blocked his path.

”Honey, let’s both calm down and talk this through properly.”

Chapter 103: Over the Line

”Fine, let’s talk. Do you admit to having an affair with Tony Wexler?” Ethan asked bluntly. Half her face was red and swollen, and the corner of her mouth was marked from his slap, but he felt not a shred of pity. After all the humiliation she’d brought him, he genuinely wanted to take a scalpel to her throat.

”There’s nothing improper between him and me. Honey, let’s not keep doing this…”

”Then what about Natalie and Jenna? Whose are they? Tell me.”

”Nat and the girls are our children. They’re your own flesh and blood. Honey, please don’t…”

”Claire, something’s wrong with your head. A con man like Wexler has brainwashed you. You actually believe that fraud. You’re beyond saving! Every word out of your mouth is a lie, and you can still stand there spouting nonsense with a straight face.”

Ethan didn’t waste another word on her and left.

Lily Reid held Claire back. “Ethan is going to the hospital to work. He won’t do anything drastic. You, on the other hand, Claire—you’ve got some serious problems.”

”What’s between Ethan and me is our private business. What does it have to do with an outsider like you? Lily, do you really think I don’t dare touch you?”

”You already drugged me and took my virtue. What else are you going to do to me? Kill me? Honestly, that would be a relief. At least I’d stop agonizing over whether I’ve fallen for Ethan or still miss the husband who’s been missing for years.” Lily folded her arms. A breeze stirred her bangs, and her cool, clear features showed both sorrow and pain.

”The drugging wasn’t me. It had nothing to do with me, so don’t pin everything on me. And Ethan is my husband. Seducing him is immoral. You need to stop, right now.” Claire denied it. It hadn’t been her doing, but she knew who was behind it.

”It’s never you, is it? Two breezy sentences and your hands are clean—pure as the driven snow. Too bad Ethan already knows Tony Wexler exists. Still planning to deny it?”

”There’s nothing between Tony Wexler and me like what you people imagine. Ethan has been misled and used, and this misunderstanding can be cleared up. Don’t think you can take advantage of the chaos. If you wreck my marriage and my family, our agreement is off, and I’ll fight you to the bitter end.” Claire’s voice was a warning.

”To the bitter end? You think far too highly of yourself. Let me make this clear: Ethan’s business is my business. If he wants to divorce you, I’ll help him every step of the way. Just now he asked me to find Wexler and run paternity tests against your daughters, and I’ve already sent people after him. Go ahead and tip him off—see if he can run the way Lana Reyes did.” Lily smiled coldly, completely unbothered by the threat.

”You Washington people are always so high and mighty. You look down on everyone and never take us Easton people seriously. You’ll pay for that. Let me tell you something, Lily. Once a person lowers her standards, she has no limits left. And then nothing she does is going too far, no matter how far over the line it is.” Claire’s eyes stayed on Ethan. Watching him walk away without looking back, she felt she was about to lose him, and a fierce, stubborn refusal to let go rose from the depths of her heart.

”Over the line?”

”Take my advice. Go back to Washington and stay away from my husband.” Ethan had disappeared from view. Claire turned back to Lily, and her eyes went icy and sinister. “And pass a message along to that old woman of yours. It’s damp and cold here in Easton. Tell her not to come back.”

”Claire, have you lost your mind?” Lily stared at her in shock. She’d never imagined Claire would actually plot against her mother-in-law. That would drag the Lowell family into the abyss—and take Ethan down with it.

When Ethan got back to the hospital, he found his father-in-law sitting stiffly in his office.

Neither man looked at the other with anything like friendliness.

”What are you here for? Has Wexler admitted anything?” Ethan asked.

”Claire says she has nothing to do with Tony Wexler. Don’t smear their reputations. If you’ve got evidence, let’s see it.” Richard stared at him and held out his hand.

”Are you going senile? You’ve already seen the paternity reports for Natalie and Jenna. They’re not mine. They’re bastards Claire had with some lover. If it’s not Tony Wexler, it’s Tom, Dick, or Harry—whoever it is, it isn’t me. You people won’t even believe that, and now you want more evidence?” Having already forced his way into the Lowell Group and fought with Richard’s bodyguards, Ethan had thrown caution to the wind. He saw no reason to show the man any respect now.

”I accept that evidence. It’s Claire who refuses to believe it. Otherwise I’d have agreed to your divorce long ago. Do you think I’d keep a man like you around for Christmas? Right now we’re talking about Tony Wexler. Do you have proof or not?” Richard was none too pleased either. Ethan had just called him senile to his face.

”Not direct proof. If I could catch them in bed, would I be wasting my time talking to you? But Clay Lawson is close to Claire, and he said plainly that she’s involved with Wexler. At home, she treats the trinkets Wexler gave her like treasures. That’s not normal either. Damn it, I should have suspected her ages ago. Then I wouldn’t have been kept in the dark for over ten years.” Ethan’s hands shook as he smoked. Every time he thought about her betraying him for more than a decade—treating him like a fool the whole time, leading him around by the nose—he felt he’d never be able to hold his head up again. His heart ached with grief.

”Clay Lawson? He told you that?” Richard was surprised, and the suspicion in his eyes eased. Clay was very close to his daughter; they’d worked together for years. If she had a lover, Clay might well know about it.

”He told you, and you just believed him?” he pressed. “You didn’t check for yourself?”

”Of course I’ll check. But I don’t have that much free time. I’ve got the paternity results, and that’s direct proof she cheated. If you don’t believe it, fine. I do.”

Ethan flicked the ash off his cigarette. “Wait until the results between Wexler and the girls come back. Then we’ll see whether Claire still believes in science. Go. I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”

Outside the hospital, Richard ran into his daughter. When he saw the obvious mark on her face, he gritted his teeth. “That bastard Ethan actually hit you. I won’t let him get away with this.”

”He’s been under a lot of pressure lately, and he’s been unhappy with me for a long time. Let him vent. It was one slap. I can take it.” Claire was surprisingly calm. She’d always thought of Ethan as meek as a lamb, but she’d forgotten he was still a man—and a man pushed hard enough has fire in his blood too. Lately she’d been reflecting on how things stood between them. She’d always held the upper hand and sometimes hadn’t considered his feelings at all. Especially last time, when she’d sent Phoebe Nash to sleep with him, thinking she could use it as leverage. Instead, Ethan had simply stopped caring. He refused to be coerced and held his ground.

”You took a hit and didn’t hit back? Claire, did you really do something to wrong Ethan? You and Tony Wexler wouldn’t actually…” It suddenly dawned on Richard. His head buzzed, and a sharp pain stabbed through his chest like a needle.

”There’s nothing inappropriate between Tony Wexler and me. It’s purely business and ordinary social contact. I don’t know why Ethan is suddenly slandering us, but he’ll see the paternity results soon enough. There’s no way it’s Tony.” She spoke confidently, gazing out the window, and didn’t notice her father clutching at his shirt over his chest.

”It was Clay Lawson who told him.”

”Clay?”

Claire suddenly realized something was very wrong. Clay knew quite a lot about her affairs—things Ethan could never be allowed to find out…

Chapter 104: Honey, Not Vinegar

That afternoon, Ethan was working in his office when, to his surprise, his wife knocked and walked in with a patient intake form in her hand.

”Dr. Hale, someone hit me in the face. Can you treat it?” Claire pulled off her mask, revealing the split at the corner of her mouth.

”Did you do that to yourself, or did Tony Wexler hit you?” Ethan asked coldly. His slap had been hours ago that morning; the mark should have faded long since. The marks on her face now were obviously only minutes old. Either she’d inflicted them herself as a ploy, or it was Wexler.

”You’re the one who hit me!” Naturally she couldn’t admit she’d done it herself. She’d called him and he wouldn’t pick up; this was the only way left.

”Claire, how can you not take our situation seriously? It’s critical. How long do you plan to drag this out? Are you going to wait until it’s past saving before you face it?”

”You’re too worked up. This isn’t a good time to talk. Just prescribe me something.” She had no intention of arguing—he might hit her again. When he blew up, there was no reasoning with him; he was completely out of control. But she was sure he still loved her, and with him, honey had always worked better than vinegar. As long as she didn’t clash with him head-on, he had no way to force her hand.

Ethan had her open her mouth and took a look, then handed her an ointment, some anti-inflammatories, and an ice pack. “Claire, I’ll say it again, same as always. If you don’t love me anymore, if you look down on me, you’re free to ask for a divorce. I’ll agree—”

”I love you. I won’t divorce you.”

”Don’t interrupt! The situation is that you had children with other men. You have no shame. What right do you have to say you love me?”

”You’re dead set on believing the kids aren’t yours. There’s no talking to you like this. Ethan, I love you. I won’t divorce you.”

She took the medicine and left.

At the door she turned back. “Can Clay Lawson talk yet? I’d like a word with him.”

”He still can’t speak.”

”Honestly, Clay is cunning, and vicious too. Don’t believe anything he says. Just look at what happened when he told you about Tony Wexler—you completely lost control. He can play you far too easily.”

Ethan didn’t take the bait. He waved her out.

Had he really acted on impulse? Maybe he had.

Was Clay lying? He’d wondered the same thing on the way to her company. But even the wife who’d been closest to him for over ten years had betrayed and deceived him. Who else could he believe?

No one.

Still, even if Clay was deliberately stirring up trouble between him and Wexler—between him and his wife and all the rest—he’d charge in headfirst anyway.

His wife was using her resources to block the divorce, leaving him with no recourse at all. The gap between them was like the gap between the clouds in the sky and the mud on the ground. He couldn’t bridge it; he could never stand on equal footing with her.

He had only one path: shatter her comfort zone and escalate the conflict. Only in chaos would he have a chance.

When he went to Clay’s room, he found some of the medical staff peeking in.

So they think I’ve already got Clay talking. They’re the ones who are anxious, not me.

Ethan turned it into an impromptu round and then headed back to his office. In the corridor, before he could react, a burly man slammed a fist into his chin. The follow-up came fast—the man grabbed his collar, ready to keep swinging. In a split second, Ethan instinctively threw up an elbow to block, which was the only thing that kept him from taking another blow to the face.

Other staff saw what was happening and rushed over to pull the two of them apart.

The man was wearing a mask and sunglasses, but Ethan still recognized him. It was Sophie’s boyfriend.

Andrew?

Ethan touched his chin. It wasn’t dislocated, but his gums were split, and he could taste blood.

He watched Andrew run. But this was Ethan’s hospital—how far could the man get? There were police downstairs, and the moment Andrew stepped out of the elevator, they pinned him down.

After booking, Andrew was taken to the local precinct to face serious charges.

Seeing how things were going, Andrew realized this was far more serious than he’d imagined. He hastily claimed it was a love-triangle thing, a misunderstanding. The police came back to Ethan for his side of the story, but Ethan had never had anything to do with any woman in Andrew’s life, so there was obviously no love triangle. He told the police to question Andrew again and dig deeper.

Sophie came to Ethan with a signed statement asking that the charges be dropped. “Ethan, please, have a heart and let Andrew off. He only came after you because he found out you hit me.”

Only then did Ethan remember, and more or less understand. That slap at the Lowell Group had left Sophie resentful, so she’d gotten Andrew to pick a fight and settle the score.

”You’re close to Claire, and she trusts you. You must know about the men she’s seeing. Give me one name, and I’ll sign.”

”You’re putting me in a tough spot. I honestly don’t know.”

”Then go on covering for her.”

Ethan took the statement and tore it up on the spot.

”Ethan, it’s only a minor injury. Let’s not waste taxpayer money.”

”Sophie, your professional competence is honestly worrying. Get your facts straight first.” Ethan handed her an injury assessment report.

”This isn’t you.” Sophie saw that the injured party wasn’t Ethan.

”That’s right, it isn’t. It’s my colleague. When Andrew got pushed away and kept coming at me, he stomped on my colleague’s foot—fractured and dislocated it. That’s no minor injury. You might think I’m making it up, but we have security footage, and the police have already logged it as evidence.”

”I… I had no idea it would turn out like this.”

”But he came to make trouble at the hospital because you put him up to it. That much is true. You’re a lawyer. If this counts as retaliation, or hiring someone to do your dirty work, then knowing the law and breaking it anyway only makes it worse.”

”It’s not that serious. You, on the other hand—the scene you made at the Group was seen by other clients, and now they won’t do business with us. The Group lost that project. That’s at least thirty million dollars.”

”Claire can just arrange for you people to spend a night with the clients, and the project will come right back.” Ethan smiled contemptuously. Only thirty million? Then if I went and caused a scene every day, how many tens of millions would Claire lose?

The thought flickered past and was gone. That wasn’t the approach he wanted.

”That’s slander!”

”Am I wrong? The Scarlet House just burned down, and the new Scarlet House is about to be renovated. You’re all getting impatient, aren’t you? Paige Summers, Phoebe Nash—who knows how many women like that Claire has working for her. Sophie, I’ve seen your file. You did escort work for Claire too. You can’t play the whore and then pose as a saint.”

”You—that’s how you see me? Then you really are blind!”

”I am blind. I couldn’t even see what kind of people you all really are.”

Ethan waved her out. When two people had nothing in common, even half a sentence was too much.

Then he got an unexpected call, from Wendy Lawson.

Wendy had been burned some time ago, and Ethan had helped treat her before Dean Keaton transferred them all to the burn unit. By the time Clay was admitted, Ethan knew Wendy had already been discharged and was recovering at home.

The Washington circle and the others had finished carving up the Lawson family’s assets, and they were showing mercy to the family members who posed no threat.

”Ethan, can Clay talk yet?”

”No comment.”

”If he can’t talk, how did you come to suspect the Master of having an affair with your wife?”

He gave a short laugh. “If you want to know whether Clay can talk, come to the hospital and see for yourself.” He hung up, his brow knitting tightly. Even Wendy knew about Tony Wexler and his wife. It seemed he really was the only one who hadn’t known.

Chapter 105: Strange Taste

Before long, Wendy Lawson showed up at the hospital. She had survived, but the skin on her face was ruined. She wore a head wrap, a mask, sunglasses, and gloves—covered from head to toe.

She went into Clay’s room and called his name for a while, but he couldn’t speak. The moment he tried to lift or use either hand, it trembled uncontrollably. The two siblings had no way to communicate.

She went to Ethan’s office and got straight to the point. “I know you have a way to get my brother talking. Why can’t he talk yet?”

Ethan didn’t answer right away. He finished what he was working on, then pulled up Clay’s chart and leafed through it. “Clay has nerve damage—to the central nervous system in the brain and to the autonomic nerves along the spine. Whether he recovers depends on how the treatment goes.”

”You separated conjoined twins. You rebuilt their nerves. You definitely have a way to make him better. What do I have to do before you’ll save him?”

Ethan closed the chart and said evenly, “I’ve already done everything I can. Everyone in our department has. We’ve done our part; the rest depends on Clay’s own willpower. You know, there are always people who only half understand something and rush to draw conclusions anyway. They even climb up onto the moral high ground and pass judgment on others. People like that are the real villains.”

”You…” Wendy was completely shut down by his retort, but she had her reasons. “Ethan, do you know how important my brother is to the Lawsons who are still alive? You have no idea. All the family’s money is with him. Only if he tells us where it’s hidden can the rest of us live normal, decent lives. Otherwise—look at us. Half alive, half dead. How are we supposed to go on?”

So Clay really does have money. No wonder the Washington people can’t bear to let him die. And Claire wanting to talk to him first—that must be for the same reason… Not a flicker of this showed on Ethan’s face. Ignoring how anxious Wendy was, he explained Clay’s condition again, along with the treatment the hospital had given and the likely outcomes.

When he was done, he said, “On the phone, you brought up Tony Wexler and my wife. Not before, not after—right now. Did you already know about their dirty little affair?”

”I didn’t know. Tony just called me and asked me to find out what’s going on with my brother. He thinks my brother is talking nonsense.”

”If Wexler called you, then he knows I confronted Claire. He sent you to check whether Clay can talk. You haven’t even recovered, and you still came. Wexler orders someone in your condition around and you do as you’re told. You two must be pretty close. You raise fish for Wexler… So you’re just like Claire—you’re into that ugly frog face of his. You’ve got strange taste.” The more Ethan thought it over, the more a chill crept through him, along with a deep revulsion.

He let the tightness in his chest ease and said mockingly, “Though now the tables have turned. He’s ugly, but you’re uglier. If he still treats you the way he used to, that’s true love. If he’s put off by your looks, then he’s nothing special himself.”

Wendy said nothing, just glared at him resentfully. Did he have to say it out loud? That’s cruel.

After a long while she finally spoke. “That’s why I want my brother’s money—not just to live on, but to pay for plastic surgery. Ethan, please, have some mercy. Help me.”

”You’re not the only one asking things of me. If Clay starts talking, others want to be the first to know…”

”You have to tell me first. I’m his sister. I’m his blood.”

”His sister? That doesn’t make you the closest to him, and it doesn’t put you at the front of my line. But I’m willing to give you a chance. Tell me everything about Tony Wexler. Ideally, evidence of what he’s been doing with Claire.”

Wendy had no choice. Ethan held all the cards. If she wanted first access to Clay, she had to go through him. And since he already suspected Wexler, telling him about the past didn’t really count as betraying anyone.

”Right after I graduated from college, my brother took me to a big charity dinner. He said it would broaden my horizons. He introduced me to his business friends and wanted to find me a good boyfriend. Tony was there—that was the first time I met him. He was the center of attention at the table. He knew so much: astronomy, geography, social science, all kinds of theories. He was especially fluent when it came to astrology and tarot, and I found him fascinating. I got his number, we kept in touch, and the more we saw each other, the closer we got. Then I slept with him.”

”Oh? How was he in bed?” Ethan asked.

”I… I have to tell you that too?” When he nodded, Wendy wondered what he was after. Does he really need every detail?

She hesitated. “He’s… very gentle. Very respectful toward me. And he knows how to have fun. It felt really good.”

”And just like that, he won you over?” Ethan’s mind was in turmoil. If Wexler could get Wendy to describe it that way, his skills in bed must be formidable.

”Not entirely. I liked his learning and his manner more. Later he had me help raise fish—at that same Evergreen Farm you went to.”

”Evergreen, huh? He figures he’s going to live forever? Fitting, I suppose. You raise fish for him, and he gets a respectable excuse to come ‘admire the fish’ and fool around with you. That’s the life of a god, isn’t it? Now tell me about him and Claire.” Seeing how foolishly naive Wendy was, Ethan wasn’t surprised a lecher like Wexler had set his sights on her and reeled her in. What he cared about was whether his wife had been the same. If she had, she’d truly let him down.

”Your wife knows Tony very well. She’s also very superstitious about him. Whenever he has new work—paintings, prints, that sort of thing—she goes to see it and buys it.”

”I know about that. There’s plenty of it on display at home. What I want to know is whether they slept together.”

”That I don’t know. I never saw it with my own eyes, and Tony doesn’t tell me about his other women.”

”Then what good are you to me? Why should I let you talk to Clay first?”

”You—how can you be like this? I already told you about me and Tony.”

”Your sordid little affair makes me sick just listening to it. And don’t try to guilt-trip me. I’m a doctor. I’ll treat Clay and do what I can to save him. Anyone who comes to me sick gets treated. Last time you were in bad shape, and I saved you too. But saving his life is one thing; deciding who gets to know first that he can talk has nothing to do with medicine. Give me what I want. For example, evidence that Claire slept with Wexler—or with Clay, or any other man. Anything that proves she cheated. Give me that, and you’ll be the first to talk to Clay.”

”I know they once drove out to a hot-springs spa in the country together for one of those milk baths and spent the night. Does that count?”

”You know what Claire is like. She won’t admit anything until it’s staring her in the face. Do you have photos or surveillance footage?”

”How would a place like that have cameras? And you can’t sneak photos there either. Tony hardly ever uses a phone, and when he does, it’s some ancient flip phone—calls only, no video or recording. Unless Claire took pictures herself, the kind of photos and videos you want just don’t exist.”

”What about payment records?”

”I’m not sure. I’ll look for you. Ethan, until I find proof they slept together, I hope you’ll see how sincere I’m being and how hard I’m trying. Please, you have to give me a chance.”

Seeing she had nothing more to say, Ethan sent her on her way.

At once an inexplicable unease knotted in his chest.

His wife had actually gone to a milk bath with Tony Wexler. A place like that—a man and a woman alone, naked in front of each other. If nothing had happened between them, not even a dog would believe it.

Claire, you really have no shame. You play around like this, and you still think you have the right to refuse a divorce?

Chapter 106: Brother Against Sister

Of everyone around him at the hospital, the person Ethan trusted most was still the head nurse. He had her come with him to Clay Lawson’s room and posted her outside the door to keep watch.

He gave Clay a round of acupuncture until he was able to write.

Clay wrote: “Why did my sister come? What does she want?”

”She wants your money. She says it’s for the family’s living expenses, her plastic surgery, and donations to Tony Wexler. I didn’t agree to any of it, and I didn’t tell her you can write. As far as I’m concerned, your money should go to your wife, your mistresses, and your kids. Oh—do you know what’s really going on between Wexler and your sister? He’s been sleeping with her all along. He claims her stars aren’t aligned for marriage yet and keeps her from marrying anyone, just so he can have her to himself.” Ethan whispered it into Clay’s ear, pitching his voice so the man caught every word while the head nurse outside heard nothing.

Clay went wild. His eyes bulged as if they were about to pop out of his head, and he scrawled frantically: “Don’t give the money to that bastard Wexler. That son of a bitch isn’t even human! Hale, help me kill him. I’ll pay you a fortune.”

”Don’t talk to me about money. Our deal was never about money. It’s about finding the man Claire cheated on me with. If that man turns out to be you, the deal is off, and I’ll make sure you die in my hands and there’s nothing left to bury. I’ll let your organs rot one by one, then cut them out piece by piece.”

That shut Clay up instantly. He stared at Ethan as if at a demon, cold sweat beading on his forehead. Liquid ran down the tube into his urine bag—he’d wet himself in sheer terror.

”There was never anything like that between Claire and me. We were just business partners. Don’t—don’t get the wrong idea.”

”I asked Claire. She denies sleeping with Wexler. Are you fucking with me, Lawson? I can make up an excuse right now to go to the hospital where your wife and kids are, or have them transferred here, and kill them myself.”

”Hale, don’t do anything rash! Don’t touch my kids! I’m begging you, Hale, please, please, please…”

”Save your strength. If you don’t push me too far, I won’t do anything crazy. Cooperate, and I can keep you alive. Listen: I can fake your death, get you out of this hospital, and bring you back around at the funeral home. As long as you’re alive, your wife and kids still have someone to lean on. Understand?”

”I understand! I’ll do whatever you say!”

”What are Wexler’s weak spots? Food, drink—or the person he cares about most.”

”In two days it’s his illegitimate son’s fifth birthday. Skyview Estates, House No. 3. Zane Wexler.”

Hearing the head nurse knock, Ethan put Clay back the way he’d been, pocketed the paper, and opened the door.

The visitor outside was Miles Leland.

”Hale, any improvement with Clay Lawson?” Miles glanced in from the doorway. He didn’t see Ethan doing anything special to Clay, so he assumed no treatment had taken place.

”Some. His pulse is a little stronger, and his vitals are slowly climbing.” Ethan said it casually as he eased the door shut, then sent the head nurse back to her own work.

”Can he talk yet?”

”Not yet. I’ve done all I can on that front. Why do you care?” Ethan countered.

”Someone just called me, so I came to find you. If he still can’t talk, I know what to tell them.” Miles looked around—too many eyes and ears—and said no more. But once they were back in the office, he couldn’t resist probing. “I hear Clay Lawson controls a huge fortune, everything the Lawson family built up over the years. The people above me are desperate for him to start talking. It’s the money they’re after.”

Not just the people above you. My lovely wife at home, Clay’s little sister just now, and a whole crowd of others—every one of them wants to be first in line to talk to him. What else would they be after but that money?

Ethan just chuckled and steered the conversation elsewhere.

That evening, after his shift, he shook off every watching eye and slipped, silent as a ghost, over to Phoebe Nash’s studio apartment.

”You—what are you doing here?” Phoebe was floored. Shock, excitement, shyness, and a sense of inadequacy hit her all at once, especially when Ethan walked in and looked around. Her clothes and socks were strewn across the sofa and coffee table. She lived alone and almost never had guests, and with him turning up out of the blue and walking straight in, she’d had no time to tidy up.

”I don’t feel like going home tonight, and I don’t want anyone finding me. Let me crash here for the night.” Ethan went over, swept the clothes off the sofa, and sat down. One glance at the labels and fabrics told him Phoebe’s taste had room for improvement—or that she simply didn’t have much money.

”You’re staying at my place? What about Ms. Lowell?” Phoebe hurriedly scooped the clothes into her arms.

”Don’t tell her. Don’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell a soul I was coming here. If it’s a problem, I’ll go.”

”It’s not a problem. Just let me straighten up first.”

”Do whatever you like. I’ll sleep on the sofa. Unless the sky is falling, don’t wake me.” When she agreed, Ethan kicked off his leather shoes, lay down fully dressed, and was soon asleep.

”He’s not picky about where he sleeps, is he?” Phoebe murmured, still a little at a loss. Then she heard him snoring softly; judging by how loose his body was, he was already out. She quietly gathered up the scattered clothes and sat beside him. Watching him sink deeper and deeper into sleep, as if he were in his own home, she grew curious. Doesn’t he miss home? Doesn’t he miss his kids?

He really does want a divorce… She turned her phone’s volume down and put in her earbuds, but the shows and novels she usually couldn’t put down suddenly seemed flat. Her attention kept drifting to the man on the sofa. Worried he’d catch cold, she went over and draped a blanket over him.

When Ethan woke, it was just past five in the morning. He’d slept a full ten hours without stirring once—very nearly the soundest sleep of his forty years. His family hadn’t had much when he was growing up. Besides studying hard, he’d had to help out at home: sweeping as a small child, then cooking and odd jobs as he got older. In school he went to bed late and got up early, with no time to relax or waste. After he married and started his career, he still never sat still, forever running circles around the kids and Claire.

A rare stolen moment of peace in a restless life… He saw Phoebe sitting in the chair. From the look of her, she hadn’t slept well.

He went to the bathroom. When he came back, he took a hundred dollars out of his bag and held it out to her. “For the night. Sorry for the trouble.”

”Are you trying to insult me?” Phoebe bristled. Staying at her place and then paying her for it—that was treating her like a prostitute, plain and simple.

”Insult you? If I’d slept with you and then paid you, that would be an insult. Take it. If I’d gotten a hotel room, I’d have had to pay anyway.”

”That’s a nice way of putting it. You don’t sleep with me, but you still treat me like a whore. How is that not an insult?”

”Claire told you to sleep with me, and you did. Did you spare a thought for how I’d feel? I call you a whore once and you can’t take it? Because of that mess, someone reported me at the hospital. I almost lost my job and my reputation. Back then I wanted to find you and kill you. Enough—stop being so dramatic. You came out into the world to make money, didn’t you? Take it. You’re not like that whore Paige Summers.”

He pressed the cash into her hand. She threw it right back at him. “I don’t want your filthy money!” Seeing the resentment and fury in her eyes, he just gave a faint smile and let it go. He threw on his coat and walked out.

But he left one parting line behind him: “Hookers with pride!”

Chapter 107: A Beating

Ethan had barely sat down in a diner three blocks from the hospital when the owner recognized him and refused to take his money, leaving him thoroughly embarrassed.

But something about the owner’s movements, along with an occasional cough, made Ethan suspect a serious lung condition. It was early, and there were no other customers yet, so they chatted a little. Ethan kindly warned him not to smoke or drink coffee on an empty stomach first thing in the morning. He learned the man was under enormous pressure—aging parents, young kids, a mortgage. After closing up the diner each day, he drove for a ride-share app and did deliveries whenever he could. Whatever paid, he did.

This guy really lives by the rule “if the work doesn’t kill you, keep working until it does.” I hope luck is on his side… In the end, Ethan didn’t suggest a checkup. He hoped his judgment was wrong. Before leaving, he left a big tip.

Back at the hospital, he finally switched his phone on and found a pile of missed calls, most of them from his wife. Seeing a message from Lily Reid, he called her back. She’d already gotten a sample from Tony Wexler. Preliminary data from the lab showed no genetic relationship to Natalie or Jenna. The result wasn’t a hundred percent yet; they’d run more tests to confirm.

”So Natalie and the girls aren’t even that Wexler guy’s! Then whose are they? Still, Claire going to a milk bath with that bastard Wexler and playing around like that—that alone is unforgivable.”

A little too curious, Ethan asked how Lily had gotten the sample. She didn’t hide it. Her people had pulled a plastic bag over Wexler’s head, beaten him until he bled, and collected what they needed. It had happened at the address Ethan himself had provided—Skyview Estates.

What Ethan didn’t know was that after he’d raised hell at the Lowell Group, Wexler had caught wind of it and gone into hiding. With most places off-limits, he’d holed up with a secret lover. Lily had searched for half a day without luck, then found him easily at the address Ethan gave her—and took the chance to vent her anger.

So, Master, did your stars warn you this bloody disaster was coming? Fool around with other men’s wives, and the fates you peddle come to collect. Ethan smirked. After thinking it over, he texted his wife: “We can get divorced now, right? I’ll set a time. We’ll go to the county clerk’s office and get it done.”

”No divorce. Where were you last night?”

Her reply left him speechless and helpless. He ignored her after that and threw himself into his work.

He’d just come out of the trauma bay and made it back to his office—he hadn’t even had a sip of water—when Wendy Lawson walked in uninvited.

”Ethan, Tony Wexler got beaten up. Did you know?”

”What’s with that tone? Do I owe you something? Still think you’re the Lawson family’s little princess? Get out.”

He didn’t appreciate the accusation in her voice.

”You…” Wendy hadn’t expected him to turn so harsh. He’d become forceful, while she was nothing but a leftover from a ruined family, still needing his help to get money out of Clay. She had no choice but to back down. Softening her voice, she said sweetly, “Ethan… Ethan, honey… you’re like a big brother to me…”

”Spare me the act. We have nothing to do with each other. You just said Wexler got beaten up—why suspect me?” Ethan sensed something was off.

”Tony called me. The only person who knew he was staying at Skyview Estates was my brother, so he figures you sent people after him.”

”Wexler has the nerve to sleep with you, with Claire, with other men’s wives. A man like that was bound to get beaten sooner or later. Now that someone’s finally done it, what’s so surprising? By his own charlatan logic, what goes around comes around. Karma never misses.” Ethan gave a cold laugh. If he’d been the impulsive type, he’d have gone straight to Wexler’s door and beaten him senseless the moment he found out about the milk bath.

”How badly is he hurt?” he went on. “Where’s he being treated?”

”I don’t know how bad it is. He just said he got beaten up. He’s at Easton Memorial now.”

”Doesn’t dare come to Easton General and let me look at his injuries? Guilty conscience.”

Ethan began working out how to get Wexler into his hospital…

Wendy went to see her brother, but no matter how she called to him, he didn’t respond. She left empty-handed. Once she was gone, Ethan had the head nurse cover for him again and pried out secrets only Clay and Wexler knew.

Clay had helped Wexler set up a breeding operation deep in the backwoods near Easton’s county line. It held rare and valuable animals, some of them federally protected species. After weighing it, Ethan tipped off the patient’s relative in law enforcement. Call it returning a favor.

After a busy stretch of work, Ethan went to eat with Fran Foster, with some patients’ family members joining them at the table. After the meal, he started his private clinic hours.

Then came a crash on the interstate. A state official’s relative had been critically injured and brought to Easton General, and they needed Ethan. He rushed back. The patient was a young woman. She’d gone into ventricular fibrillation in the ambulance and again just after arriving in the trauma bay. Defibrillation had worked, but it left purple burns across her pale chest. There was no penetrating wound, but her cervical spine had taken a brutal impact and was badly damaged. CPR at the scene had caused further injury as well: two broken ribs.

A quick emergency consult with the specialists settled the surgical plan, and Ethan took the lead. After half a day of grueling work, he’d pulled her back from the brink, and the chances of paralysis looked slim. Once she was through the critical post-op window, he’d be able to all but confirm she wouldn’t be paralyzed. He let out a quiet breath.

It was already ten at night. Ethan would have preferred to stay at the hospital, but he knew too many colleagues were watching. A man with a home he couldn’t go back to would only earn their contempt.

Then his law-enforcement contact came to the hospital specifically to take him out for a late dinner—a thank-you for the tip that had brought down a ring trafficking endangered animals. It was a major case and a big win for their unit, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer; he had to come and show his face. A female officer drove him to the restaurant herself, which drew plenty of attention. The moment he stepped out of the restaurant afterward, he found his wife waiting outside.

As soon as he got into her car, she asked, “Honey, since when do you hang out with cops? I’ve never seen you with friends like that.”

”What, I can’t have one meal with someone without you having a problem with it? Who do you think you are, keeping tabs on me like this?” Ethan shot back.

”Can’t we just talk normally? Do we have to fight the moment we see each other?” Claire frowned. She hadn’t expected him to shut her down with a single sentence. With an attitude like that, how were they supposed to talk?

”With someone like you, what’s the point of talking nicely? Stop the car. I’ll get out up ahead.” He’d only gotten into her car because the female officer was watching; he didn’t want to air their marital problems in front of an outsider.

”Why are you throwing a tantrum again? You’re all polite and pleasant with other people, and then you turn around and take it out on me. All that does is hurt the person who loves you most.” Naturally she refused to stop. Instead, she locked the doors and sped toward home.

”You think I’m the one with double standards? Claire, you’re the hypocrite. You sit there acting noble and pure like some queen—and what are you like behind closed doors? I just don’t get it. You went to a milk bath with trash like Tony Wexler. You even slept with him. How can you still have the nerve to refuse a divorce?”

”I didn’t do what you’re saying. I didn’t cheat! Honey, I do deal with Tony, but it’s all normal business. He’s not the kind of man you think he is.”

He laughed. “Normal business? What, you make your money by selling yourself? Wexler calls Clay Lawson his brother to his face, then turns around and sleeps with Wendy. He’s got a mistress and an illegitimate son at Skyview Estates. And you call him a gentleman? Do you still take me for an idiot?”

”You’re making false accusations!” Claire slammed on the brakes and spun toward him. “Every dollar I earn is clean. I’ve never sold myself. Apologize, or get the hell out!”

Ethan unlocked the door, got out, and slammed it behind him.

Chapter 108: In Someone Else’s Shoes

Who the hell does she think she is?

With nothing but contempt in his heart, Ethan climbed over the median barrier into the opposite lane, spotted a cab with its light on, and waved it down.

As luck would have it, the driver was the diner owner. He smiled. “Dr. Hale? What are you doing out here? Where’s your car?”

”I just had a late dinner with some people. There’s an emergency at the hospital, and I need to get back.” Ethan kept his tone casual as they headed for the hospital. On the way, he watched the driver answer texts from home at the red lights—warm, caring words from his wife and kids, an easy closeness that practically spilled off the screen. He couldn’t help envying it.

Ordinary people with ordinary lives, grinding away just to get by—but there’s less self-interest tangled up between them. Who’s to say they aren’t happy? They work hard for a better life, sure, but at least it’s real. I used to be ordinary too. Marrying into Claire’s world was me reaching for something that was never mine—asking for trouble. All these years of struggle, and I’m still not as happy as ordinary people?

He stopped by the hospital only briefly, then slipped off quietly once again to Phoebe Nash’s studio apartment.

”Why don’t you take the bed? It’s wider and more comfortable than the sofa.” Phoebe was a little surprised he’d come so late.

”Fine, I’ll take the bed. You take the sofa.” Ethan didn’t stand on ceremony. He went in, kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his coat, lay down, and was out in seconds.

Well. He really doesn’t bother with manners. Phoebe was at a loss for words. He made no other move; he’d come purely to sleep, and he dropped off almost unnaturally fast. She put it down to how hard he worked. What she didn’t know was that this was exactly what Ethan valued about her: she was a kept woman who could never be shown in public, and he’d seen her decency when she begged him to treat Paige Summers. She would never report to Claire. That made her place the safest, most secret hideout there was. Claire and the others would never dream he was here.

The next morning he left a hundred dollars again. Naturally, Phoebe threw it back at him, and the bills scattered across the floor. The stubborn look in her eyes seemed to insist she still had some shred of dignity left.

At the hospital, Ethan got an unexpected call from Dean Sullivan, who said he’d have Tony Wexler transferred over as soon as possible and faxed over the chart in advance. Ethan had raised the idea with Sullivan before, and Sullivan had flatly refused. Then Ethan had dropped a hint to Lily Reid and let her handle it.

Getting what you asked for should have been a good thing, but it had gone so smoothly that Ethan was a little surprised. He studied the medical history and the scans carefully. Wexler was treating a minor injury like a major one—putting pressure on the DA and, by all appearances, getting ready to shake someone down.

An injury like that would never land him in the ICU, only a VIP suite on the inpatient floor. Sure enough, the head of inpatient services soon called to ask where to put Wexler. Ethan told him to follow hospital policy and arrange things the way they should be arranged. It was a trivial injury, after all.

A moment later, his father-in-law called. The second Ethan picked up, Richard laid into him. “Ethan, you bastard! Nat and Jen’s tests against Tony Wexler are back—no relation at all. You framed Claire. You deserve to die a miserable death! Get over here and apologize to her right now!”

”You only know half the story. Ask Claire how she explains going to a milk bath with Tony Wexler. If you think that’s nothing, put yourself in my shoes. Say you’re my father. Imagine my mother naked in a hot tub with another man, and then she tells you nothing happened. Would you believe her?”

On the other end, Richard nearly hurled his phone in fury. A sudden pain stabbed through his chest. He pounded it several times and took some medicine before he recovered enough to speak to his wife. “Ethan can’t stay. Otherwise he’s going to be the death of me.”

”Can’t stay? What are you planning? Send people to beat him to death, and then watch Claire turn on you? What happened this time? You gave him a way out—come apologize to Claire and that would be the end of it. He didn’t take it?” Margaret was also thinking she should get her husband in for a checkup. He’d been having chest pains lately, which wasn’t a good sign.

”He says Claire went to a milk bath with Tony Wexler. He told me to put myself in his shoes. Tell me, would Claire do something like that?” Doubt was written all over Richard’s face.

”She might. When it comes to Claire, we may not know half as much as we think. Ethan says Nat and Jen aren’t his. He had the nerve to raise hell at the company. Now he says she went to a milk bath with Tony Wexler. And she’s never explained any of it. As far as I’m concerned, her silence is as good as a confession.” As the words left her mouth, Margaret suddenly grasped how serious this was.

She told her husband to rest, went into the study, and called her daughter. Once she was sure Claire was alone and they could speak privately, she lowered her voice. “Claire, be honest with me. Is there something between you and that Wexler man? At that spa… did you go all the way?”

”Did Ethan tell you that? He’s framing me. Nothing happened between Tony Wexler and me.”

”’Nothing’ meaning you didn’t sleep together? Then what about the spa?”

”Mom, I don’t want to talk about this. Please don’t ask. It’s not the way Ethan thinks. Just trust me. I’m busy right now.”

”Claire, running away won’t solve anything. Your father just called Ethan and got so angry his chest started hurting. If this keeps up, I’m afraid he’ll actually make himself sick. I don’t know what you’re up to, but this is out in the open now. You have to deal with it.”

”I know. I’ll handle it.”

The line went dead again. Margaret felt a tight knot of irritation in her chest. They were frantic, and their daughter was brushing them off. In that moment she decided she couldn’t keep stumbling around in the dark. She called her own family, the Ashbys, and had them put people on her daughter’s trail.

With that arranged, she went to the hospital in person. Ethan had just gone into the trauma bay, so she had to wait. When he finally came out, she saw blood on his white coat, obviously from the emergency.

”What are you doing here?” Ethan handed the bloodied coat to the head nurse to be laundered and put on a clean one. He wasn’t about to give his mother-in-law a friendly face.

”Let’s get something to eat and talk. I’ll wait in the car.” She’d meant to talk there, but the smell of blood and disinfectant on him—or maybe just the hospital smell—put her off, and her appetite for conversation drained away.

Ethan checked the time. His shift was nearly over anyway, so he went to eat with her.

”Exactly how much of this so-called evidence do you have about what Claire’s been doing?” she asked. Ethan was eating heartily; she had no appetite at all.

”I have the paternity tests. What more evidence do you think I need? Claire knows the truth and is pretending she doesn’t. Something that ugly can’t stay hidden forever. Sooner or later, she and I are getting divorced.”

”Then why raise hell at the Group? Why tell Richard about Tony Wexler? Weren’t you just stirring up more trouble?”

”Claire did wrong and won’t admit it, so I’m dragging it all into the open to see if she’ll admit it then. Don’t blame me for making trouble—you people forced my hand. I’m willing to walk away with nothing. All I want is a divorce. The money Claire made selling her looks disgusts me.”

Chapter 109: You Don’t Deserve Her Either

”Selling her looks? Ethan, watch your mouth!” His mother-in-law found the phrase deeply offensive.

”Ugly words? They’re ugly, all right. I’m still Claire’s husband, and my wife makes money that way—I’m so ashamed I want to crawl into a hole. I can never hold my head up again.” Ethan slapped his own cheek. “And you people? You spend the money she got by trading her body. Doesn’t that disgust you? No—you’re proud of it. Riding on Claire’s back, the Lowells shot straight to the top. In Easton you went from a middling family to one of the elite overnight. The only reason she won’t divorce me is that she’s afraid of the fallout—losing money, losing status.”

Margaret said nothing.

Ethan finished eating quickly, wiped his mouth, took a sip of coffee, and said, “Whether it’s you or Richard, don’t ever claim again that I want a divorce for the money. Otherwise I won’t walk away empty-handed—I’ll take half of everything Claire owns. I could team up with the Washington circle right now. With them backing me, I’d take her to court, and between the law and the evidence, she’d be forced into a divorce and a property split no matter how much she denied it. The only reason I haven’t done that is that I don’t want Nat and the girls caught in the crossfire.”

”You’re already tangled up with that Reid woman. You’ve probably been working with the Washington people for a while now, haven’t you?”

”Lily Reid? Yes, I slept with her. But it was Claire who drugged her. Lily had nowhere else to turn, so she came to me.”

”You’re framing her…”

”You have no idea what Claire gets up to!” Ethan had no interest in bickering with his mother-in-law, so he got straight to the point. “Now there’s this Tony Wexler. Claire’s counting on the fact that I don’t have photos or video of them in bed, so she flatly denies everything. What’s your position?”

”My position?”

”Do you think a man like Tony Wexler is good enough for your daughter?”

”He’s not good enough for her—and neither are you!” She could see exactly what he was doing: prodding her into investigating Wexler and her daughter herself.

”According to the lab, Wexler isn’t the biological father of Nat and the girls. But that only makes things worse for Claire. It shows even more clearly what she is—so many men she doesn’t even know who the father is.” Ethan handed her the rapid paternity results anyway and tried to draw more out of her. If she’d sat through this meal at all, she still had things she wanted to say.

But just then the hospital called. Tony Wexler had fallen and lost consciousness, and they needed Ethan back for a consult. A sharp hunch struck him: Lily’s people had pulled it off.

”Anything else?” Ethan stood, ready to go.

”Claire doesn’t want a divorce. But you could disappear, like you did last time at that monastery. We can help you leave Easton and go abroad. As long as you don’t contact her, the two of you will simply drift apart.”

”You’re afraid that if I expose her scandals, the shame will land on you too? Well, you deserve every bit of it. When a child goes wrong, the parents are to blame. You’re her parents, so get ready to face what she’s done. And don’t flatter yourselves that you’re so noble and pure. You’re no saints—you’re hypocrites, every one of you. I’m not leaving Easton. I’m not running. I’ll face all of it.”

”Ethan, you have a death wish!”

”Over ten years of marriage, and not one of the kids she had is mine. She sleeps around with an ugly freak like Tony Wexler and who knows how many other men. What’s left in my life to matter? If you want me dead, go ahead. I’ll be walking out in a minute—have someone run me over.” With a cold laugh, Ethan grabbed his bag and coat and slammed the door on his way out.

”What happened to Wexler?” was the first thing he asked the head nurse when he got back to the hospital.

”Supposedly he fell in the fire stairwell in the inpatient building—tumbled down the stairs, hit his head on the wall, and passed out on the spot.” She repeated what she’d heard.

Ethan had a pretty good idea of what had really happened. Someone had lured Wexler into the stairwell and pushed him. When Ethan got the exam reports and went to see Wexler for himself, a picture formed naturally in his mind: after the push, Wexler might not have been fully unconscious, so the attacker had come back for a second blow, grabbing his head and slamming it into the wall or the stairs.

But the hospital would never admit that. They’d insist Wexler had fallen on his own. Otherwise, with one incident after another at Easton General—from Dean Lang to Dean Keaton, and now an attack on Tony Wexler—the state would send in investigators. Once a task force moved in, everyone would be affected.

So you don’t get to wake up just yet. When you do will depend on how things play out… Ethan already had a plan. He had no intention of letting Wexler off easy.

When the consult started, Ethan also met Wexler’s wife, Jessica Wexler. She was reasonably pretty—round-faced, fairly tall, with a figure that had filled out: full chest, thick waist, broad hips. Wexler kept more than one woman on the side and still managed to satisfy a wife like that at home. What was his secret?

Ethan remembered Wendy Lawson saying Wexler knew how to have fun and make a woman feel good. Maybe he had other special talents too—hung like a horse, or a tireless silver tongue. There were plenty of ways to please a woman if a man put his mind to it.

He didn’t push himself forward. He worked out a sound plan with the others and began treatment. He wasn’t sure whether anyone at the hospital knew he’d caused a scene at the Lowell Group over Wexler and Claire, but he had to be prepared either way.

After half a day of treatment, Wexler still hadn’t woken up. Jessica couldn’t sit still any longer and came looking for Ethan. “Dr. Hale, why hasn’t my husband woken up? When will he?”

”Still not awake? Give it a little more time. He will. I can’t give you an exact time, but based on experience, probably tonight. Keep an eye on him.” Ethan pulled up Wexler’s chart, looked it over, and told her the truth.

”Tonight, then. I’ll wait. Oh, and one more thing. Why weren’t you the one examining and treating my husband before? Is it because of the scandal between him and your wife, Claire Lowell?” Jessica asked bluntly.

”The treatment plan was decided by the whole team, and it’s the best option. Any other hospital would do the same, so you don’t have to worry about me abusing my position. That said, you’re right—your husband and I have bad blood. I can’t treat him directly; I should recuse myself. Right now I want him awake even more than you do. I’m waiting for him to admit what went on with Claire so I can file for divorce.” Since she’d brought it up, Ethan didn’t hold back. “Do you know anything about the two of them? If you have proof they were fooling around, give it to me. I’ll take it straight to Claire and get the divorce done.”

”I know he has plenty of women on the side. I don’t know whether your wife is one of them. But after the scene you made at the Lowell Group, it’s as good as confirmed that he’s involved with her. Once he wakes up, I’m divorcing him. He’s latched onto a rich woman like Claire Lowell, so everything at home is mine. I want him out with nothing, and he pays alimony and child support every month. The moment he wakes up, you let me know first.” Jessica’s tone made it clear these were demands.

Chapter 110: An Anxious Mistress

Put bluntly, all this woman wants is money. When you get down to it, the tightest, most practical bond between a husband and wife is cash. Love is optional; money isn’t… Ethan despised her from the bottom of his heart and said little more.

Not long after Jessica Wexler left, more family members came in—Tony Wexler’s brothers and others—asking the same questions: Why hadn’t he woken up? When would he? Ethan gave them the same answers. Wexler’s older brother suggested a transfer, and Ethan agreed, but Jessica refused. She insisted he stay at Easton General.

That evening, a pretty woman knocked and came in, asking about Tony Wexler. When Ethan wouldn’t tell her much, she admitted she was Wexler’s mistress.

He didn’t just take her word for it and asked for proof. She showed him photos of herself and Wexler celebrating a child’s birthday and said the boy was Tony’s son, Zane Wexler.

So she’s the one from Skyview Estates… Ethan took a second look at her. She had a quiet elegance about her. If she hadn’t been a full-time mistress, she might have been a teacher or something similar. He pulled up Wexler’s chart and more or less read it back to her. When she still didn’t leave, he asked, “Is there something else?”

”I… I need his phone. There’s a very important number on it.”

”I don’t have it.”

”Please help me. You can see how awkward my position is. I can’t go public about us.”

”That’s your private business. There’s nothing I can do.”

”I’m not asking for nothing. Get me his phone—even just a quick look—and I’ll tell you something that concerns you. The day he got beaten up, he was with me. And he had plenty to say about your wife.”

”Now we might have something to work with. Go on. What did he say about Claire? If they slept together, I want every bit of evidence, direct or indirect.” Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He’d almost overlooked this angle. Wexler might well have bragged about his conquests to a lover. And after Ethan raised hell at the Lowell Group and Wexler went into hiding, the man would have been full of complaints—and a lover was the perfect person to vent to.

”He never said he slept with your wife. I hate it when he brings up other women. But every time he talks about yours, he gets all worked up and tells me to learn from her. It’s disgusting.” As she spoke, she was sizing Ethan up. He was handsome, older than her, mature, steady, and refined—far easier on the eyes than Tony. She almost wished Tony looked like him. That would have been perfect.

Ethan pressed her to get to the point. “He uses an old phone with no camera,” she said. “He’s obsessed with ancient wisdom, so he refuses to use modern gadgets. There probably aren’t any photos or videos of him with women. But he did say someone beat him to your wife. When he said it, he looked regretful—and bitter.”

”Beat him to her? Who? What else did he say?” Ethan’s brow knotted hard. Rage and humiliation surged up from his gut, and for a moment he wanted to go home and kill his wife. He forced it down. He’d already guessed that Claire had more than one man. Natalie and the girls weren’t Wexler’s, so what Wexler had seen might have been her with that other man.

I’m the fool here. She’s been cheating for years—I should have suspected her and dug it all up long ago. Play with fire long enough and you get burned. Fool around long enough and someone’s bound to catch you.

Wexler’s mistress couldn’t say who it was, either. Tony had only brought it up to spice things up before getting down to business, and once they’d finished making love, he never mentioned it again.

”Why do you want his phone? You said yourself it’s a brick. What good is it besides making calls?” Ethan knew nothing worthwhile ever came easily. If his wife’s cheating had been out in the open, word would have spread by now. Wexler might have seen her with other men without ever witnessing the act itself, and that could have been some time ago. Still, her going to a milk bath with Wexler proved there was something between the two of them. However nicely this woman told her story, he couldn’t swallow it whole.

When she hesitated, he pressed on. “You say you’re Wexler’s woman, but his wife is right here in this hospital. His belongings should go to her first. If she raises a fuss, the hospital will be liable. Besides, how do I know you’re not going to use it for something illegal? If anyone comes after you later, I’ll get dragged into it too.”

”Tony said he’d give me and our son a sum of money. Now he’s fallen and hit his head. If he forgets that promise, the two of us will have nothing to fall back on. There’s a number in his phone—the PIN for the bank account. Without it, I can’t get the money.” She gritted her teeth and told him the truth.

Ethan studied her and decided to believe her for now. He took her contact information and went up to the inpatient floor to make arrangements. Fortunately, Wexler’s phone was such an old brick that Jessica hadn’t cared about it and had left it in his belongings bag. Ethan had the mistress dress up in scrubs like a nurse, then cleverly drew the aide away, and she quickly memorized the numbers she needed.

”Thank you so much, Dr. Hale! When I get back, I’ll go through Tony’s things. If I find anything showing he slept with your wife, I’ll give it to you. Let’s keep in touch.” Before she left, she even sent a little flirtatious warmth his way.

Shopping for a new sugar daddy already? Dream on… Ethan looked down on her—a woman who’d sell body and soul for money—but he kept it to himself. She might still be useful.

After work, he once again slipped past his wife, Lily Reid, and every other watching eye, and quietly went back to Phoebe Nash’s apartment for another night.

The next day at the hospital, Lily walked straight into his office with an intake form, asking to be seen.

”Other than sleeping poorly, you’re perfectly healthy. You don’t need any medicine.” Ethan finished reading her pulse. The way she looked at him was a little dazed. She still hasn’t gotten over that craving, has she?

”I hear Claire’s complaining that you haven’t been home in three days. And you haven’t been checking into hotels either. Where have you been sleeping?” Lily’s poor sleep was a case of spring fever—she missed the man in front of her. Her body still craved what Ethan could give her.

”Some motel that takes cash, no questions asked. I make do. Pretty sad, huh?” he said offhandedly, careful not to give Phoebe away.

”You’re not being straight with me. But that’s your business. If you really don’t want to go home, come to me. I’ll find you a place. Right now I can keep Claire’s people off your back,” Lily said.

”I’ll keep that in mind. Any night I’ve got nowhere to go, I’ll come borrow a bed. Anything else?”

”Mainly I wanted to check on things on your end. Whether Clay Lawson or Tony Wexler wakes up—neither one matters.”

”You’re not exactly subtle. Don’t worry. There won’t be any problems on my end.” Ethan understood. Wexler had been attacked by people Lily sent, and keeping him unconscious meant protecting her people.

Just then Ethan’s phone rang. It was the head of inpatient services, calling him in for a consult. Wexler was still unconscious after a full night, so they’d run a brain scan and found signs of a cerebral hemorrhage.

Chapter 111: Where You Draw the Line

After a round of consultations, the doctors settled on a minimally invasive procedure, to be performed by the hospital’s chief of hand surgery.

Ethan had urgent patients of his own waiting in critical care, so he headed back and put Tony Wexler out of his mind. By the time he’d finished there, Jessica Wexler had come looking for him in person, insisting that he re-examine her husband.

The hand-surgery chief knew what he was doing, and the procedure had gone very well.

That suited Ethan just fine. It would only make it easier for him to control when Wexler woke up.

There was nothing more to say. He told Jessica to wait for her husband to come around and went back to work.

Around four that afternoon, when he returned to his office after a meeting, he found Jessica waiting for him. Her face, arms, and knees were scraped raw, the wounds still open.

”What happened to you?” he asked. “Did someone hit you?”

”Your wife did.” Jessica looked both hurt and furious, and her eyes made it plain she expected him to rein his wife in.

”Claire? Why would she hit you?” Ethan found that strange. “Then report her to the police.”

”I— She has money and power. I can’t win against people like her.”

”If you can’t, I stand even less of a chance. The best I can do is write you a prescription and have a nurse clean you up.” Ethan spread his hands, playing the meek, spineless husband who couldn’t do a thing about it.

”You can’t handle her. So get Tony awake sooner and let him deal with her.” With that, Jessica went off to find a nurse.

Deal with her how? By sleeping with Claire? What does she take me for… A chill settled in Ethan’s chest. He thought for a moment, then called his wife.

”Why did you hit Jessi