Chapter 234

Chapter 234

At that moment, Christina, who was in Blackthorn Fortress, stepped forward and finally got a clear look at the person in the wheelchair.

In that instant, it felt as though a blade had pierced her heart, sharp and unforgiving.

The bandage slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

It was Ethan.

That was Ethan, the once-powerful business magnate of Emerald City!

But the man before her was gaunt and frail, his oversized hospital gown hanging loosely off his skeletal frame.

His hair had grown long enough to obscure his eyes, dry and unkempt.

His once handsome and distinguished face was now unrecognizable from weight loss, with prominent cheekbones and sunken cheeks.

What nearly made Christina's eyes split with fury, however, was his legs.

His pant legs had been rolled up, his kneecaps twisted grotesquely, clearly shattered at some point and never properly treated.

Seemingly hearing something drop, the man in the wheelchair slowly turned his head.

Their eyes met.

Christina bit down hard on her lip beneath her mask, drawing blood, forcing down the sob in her throat.

But the tears came anyway, spilling over and blurring her vision.

Even through the disguise—a wig and heavy special-effects makeup that left only her eyes visible—Ethan recognized her instantly.

The woman he loved.

At first glance.

"What are you standing there for! Hurry up and bring the anti-inflammatory and sedative!" Pierre’s voice cut in sharply. He had noticed the surveillance camera’s red light blinking and broke into a cold sweat, lowering his voice as he scolded her.

Christina forced herself back to reality, taking slow, steady breaths as she buried the surge of pain deep inside.

With trembling hands, she picked up the medication and syringe from the cart and walked toward Ethan, one step at a time.

"Mr. Carter, how are you feeling today?" Pierre asked in a brisk, professional tone, gesturing for Christina to disinfect Ethan's arm.

Zack didn't want Ethan to die, but he didn’t want him to recover either. So his job was to keep him in his current state—neither deteriorating nor improving.

Ethan ignored Pierre completely.

He gaze locked onto Christina, the wild joy and disbelief in his eyes quickly giving way to fear.


He saw the tears in her eyes. He knew it was really her!

But why was she here?

Leave!

Go—now.

What are you doing here! Get out—immediately!

He tried to convey it all with his eyes, urgency burning through every glance.

He knew better than anyone what kind of monster Zack was.

If Zack discovered Christina had come, he would hesitate to imprison her too, or torture her to death right in front of him!

Ethan would rather waste away in this sunless prison than let her fall into danger again!

"Damn it! He's losing it again! Hold him down!" Pierre snapped, panic creeping into his voice. If anything went wrong during the dressing change, Zack would definitely kill him.

Christina had no choice but to step forward, pressing her hands against Ethan's bony shoulders.

Even through the thin fabric, she could feel the violent pounding of his heart and the tremors wracking his body.

She couldn’t hold herself together any longer.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes, landing on the back of Ethan's hand.

She lowered her head slightly, she used her body to shield them from the surveillance camera.

She leaned in and whispered, barely audible, "Wait for me."

Ethan felt the heat of her tears against his skin—so hot they seemed to sear through him.

His hand trembled as he began to lift it, instinctively wanting to wipe them away.

But halfway up, he stopped.

His fingers curled into a tight fist as he forced himself to pull back.

He couldn't expose her.

Even one lingering glance could give everything away.

Ethan stopped struggling, his body going slack as he sank back into the wheelchair, his eyes slowly closing.

"He's calmed down." Pierre wiped the cold sweat from his brow, then snatched the syringe from Christina and roughly injected the pale yellow liquid into Ethan's vein.

"Hurry up. Treat the ulcers on his legs—we’ve only got three minutes."

Christina forced herself to push past the searing pain in her chest and crouched down.

The moment she rolled up Ethan’s pant legs and saw the so-called “ulcers,” her entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.

They weren’t ordinary ulcers.

They were deep, gaping wounds—so severe the bone was nearly visible—surrounded by blackened, decaying flesh.

It was obvious. Zack was keeping Ethan alive with medication, but in every other way, he was treating him worse than an animal.

Christina picked up a pair of tweezers, gripping an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, and began carefully cleaning away the dead tissue.

Each touch sent a sharp ache through her heart.

This… was Ethan.

A man who was meant to stand at the pinnacle of industry—someone who could move entire markets with a single word.

And now, he had been reduced to this.

Zack had taken everything from him, keeping him alive only to trap him in a living hell!

"Alright, time's up!" Pierre glanced at his watch and urged her to hurry.

Clenching her jaw, Christina quickly dressed the wounds and rose to her feet.

Before leaving, she couldn’t help but take one last, lingering look at Ethan.

His eyes remained closed, as if he had already fallen asleep.

But his right index finger was bent unnaturally, tapping faintly against the armrest of the wheelchair.

Christina's gaze sharpened.

That was... Morse code.

Ethan had once taught her and Henry basic Morse code to amuse Henry.

Danger.

Go back.

He was warning her.

Telling her not to risk saving him.

Just as Christina was about to wheel the cart away, a cold voice cut through the room.

“Wait.”

Ivan.

The mercenary leader.

He stood in the doorway, a submachine gun in hand, his gaze fixed squarely on Christina's back.

"Turn around." Ivan raised his gun, aiming it at the back of Christina's head.

Pierre's legs went weak, nearly collapsing: "Ivan, what's wrong? She's new, just a bit slow..."

"Shut up!" Ivan strode up to Christina, staring into her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded, gripping her chin and forcing her face up. "A professional nurse sees patients like this every day. Why would you cry?"

Before she could respond, Ivan ripped tore off Christina's mask and wig!

"Who are you?!" He barked, pulling back the bolt, the dark muzzle pressed hard against Christina's forehead.

Pierre was already trembling with fear at the scene before him, collapsing to the ground and shaking.

It was over. His life was finished.

Christina stared straight at the gun in front of her. Though fear coiled tight in her chest, her expression remained calm.

She lifted her gaze to Ivan, her voice steady and cold. "You don't need to know who I am. You just need to know that today, I'm definitely taking him with me."

Ivan’s expression darkened. He flicked off the safety, finger tightening on the trigger.

"Don't touch her!" Ethan’s hoarse roar tore through the room.

From somewhere deep within, he found the strength to hurl himself forward—wheelchair and all—slamming into Ivan’s legs.

"Damn it! What’s wrong with this cripple?" Ivan staggered, then wrenched his leg free and drove a brutal kick into Ethan.

Ethan spat blood, his body folding in on itself as it convulsed.

"Ethan!" Christina broke, rushing to him and dropping to the floor, shielding his head with her body.

"Don't touch him!" Her eyes burned red as she glared up at Ivan. "Or I'll make you regret it!"

Ethan trembled violently in her arms, trying to push her away but without any strength.

Ivan let out a cold, mocking laugh. “How touching. Since you’re so eager to die, I’ll grant your wish—and turn you both into Swiss cheese.”

His finger tightened on the trigger.

Then—

A deafening explosion tore through the fortress, shaking the entire structure.

Immediately after, a series of explosions erupted from the lower levels of the castle.

The surveillance camera above the corridor exploded, plunging the room into darkness.

"What's going on?! Where's the backup power!" Ivan panicked, panic breaking through as his gun wavered away from Christina.

In the darkness, gunfire could be heard from the corridor outside.

The burst fire of assault rifles and the sound of stun grenades echoed.

The four guards stationed outside didn’t even have time to scream before they were taken out.

A precision charge detonated against the reinforced steel blast door.

With a thunderous crash, the lock gave way—and the entire door buckled inward, slamming to the ground in a clouds of dust.