Chapter 159 I Only Want Her
Every pair of eyes was fixed on Ethan.
He stood still, facing the bed where Aiden Bennett lay. The old man's chest no longer moved. His eyes stared at nothing, unfulfilled.
Through the grief and shock, a memory cut through Ethan's mind—sharp and vivid.
---
A small courtyard. Golden evening light. An old man in a crisp uniform standing before a boy no older than five or six.
"Attention!" The command rang out, firm but kind.
The little boy straightened immediately, small hands pressed tight against his legs, back rigid, chin up. His face was serious, determined.
"Salute!"
The boy's right hand shot up, palm down, fingertips touching his eyebrow. His mouth pressed into a thin line, mimicking the stern expression he'd seen on soldiers.
The old man's weathered face softened. He stepped forward, bending down to adjust the child's posture with gentle hands. "Elbow up a little higher... straighten that wrist... good. Just like that."
The sun dipped lower, painting the courtyard in shades of amber and gold. The old man lifted the boy into his arms, one weathered hand stroking the child's dark hair.
"Does my good boy want to hear about the great generals?"
"Yes!" The boy's voice rang out, clear and eager.
The old man settled onto a bench, the boy secure in his lap. "A long time ago, there were invaders who came across the ocean in great ships, carrying flags and guns. They came to someone else's land, stealing what wasn't theirs, taking territory, destroying homes."
Little Ethan's face scrunched up in anger. "Those invaders were mean!"
The old man smiled, touching the boy's round cheek with affection. "Yes, they were. People who hurt others are always mean. But whenever bad people appear, heroes rise up to stop them. Heroes who protect their homes and families."
The boy's eyes went wide, drinking in every word.
"Long ago, there was a young officer named Washington. He wasn't anybody important at first, just a man with courage and determination. Those invaders thought they were unbeatable because they had more ships and more cannons. But Washington led soldiers who refused to give up. They fought in winter snow without proper boots, went hungry, suffered through everything—and still kept fighting until the invaders were driven back. Their country stood free because of him."
"After that, everyone called him a founding hero. His name became a symbol—when people heard it, they thought of freedom, of never backing down."
The boy tilted his head back. "Will I be a hero too, Grandpa?"
The old man held up his thumb in praise. "Of course! Our Ethan will be like those great heroes."
Then came more stories. Pilots who fought in the sky. Naval officers who refused to retreat. Soldiers who saved their brothers.
"The peaceful life we have now exists because heroes took the bullets meant for us."
They sat until the last light faded. The old man led him inside.
---
Later that evening. Young Ethan walked down the hallway, wanting to ask his mother for more stories.
He stopped outside his parents' bedroom. Voices filtered through—angry, sharp.
"Your father is ridiculous, filling Ethan's head with war nonsense. It's not the 1940s! You should talk sense into him. This stuff will warp the boy's mind."
"Our Ethan needs to study hard, get into a top university, run my company. That's what matters. Money. Success."
Richard's voice cut in, bitter. "Money, money, money—that's all you care about! If Dad's doing such a bad job, why don't you raise Ethan yourself?"
"Don't start that shit, Richard! Those years you were stuck in that county assignment, who invested there? Who pulled up your GDP numbers? Who made you look good enough to get promoted? Don't forget what I did for you!"
"Right. It's all thanks to you, Ashley. I'm just some worthless kept man."
BANG. A chair hit the floor.
Young Ethan stood frozen. He'd wanted his mother's attention. Instead, he heard them destroying each other.
They always fought. His father would storm out, not speaking to anyone for days.
Smart little Ethan didn't knock. He didn't cry. He just stood there, then quietly walked away.
Dad was always busy. Dad didn't like him. Dad only cared about Nathan and Hannah.
Mom was busy too. Always working, traveling. Coming home late, leaving early.
She never had time for stories. Never had time for him.
Only Grandpa loved him. Only Grandpa wanted him to be a hero.
But Grandpa had other grandchildren. If Ethan didn't become a hero, maybe Grandpa wouldn't love him anymore either.
So he had to be a hero. Had to make Grandpa proud. It was the only way to keep someone caring.
---
Years later. Ethan, now seventeen, stood in the living room with his mother.
"Military academy? Are you insane? What's the point of that in peacetime? Study finance. Business. Something useful for running the company."
The teenager's mouth curved into a cold smile. "Have you ever cared what I wanted? Or do you even care about me at all?"
Ashley's phone rang. She glanced at the screen, then waved him off impatiently. "I'm busy, Ethan. Whatever. Do what you want."
The boy looked down, laughing bitterly at himself. Then he turned and walked away.
---
He went to West Point anyway. At twenty, he led a Marine unit in a joint DEA operation in the Golden Triangle.
There was a leak. A mole in the system.
All thirty of his men died in the ambush.
Ethan escaped with three bullets and two broken ribs. His teammates died covering his retreat.
He came back demanding investigation. His grandfather stopped him.
"Ethan." The old man's voice was tired. "Let it go. It's over. Retire now."
"Why?" Ethan's hands clenched into fists. "Grandpa, you told me to be a hero. You said—"
"That was just something to tell a child. You're grown now. You can't take childhood stories seriously."
Something inside Ethan shattered.
But he didn't retire. He healed, then went back. Hunted down the cartel leaders with ruthless precision. Killed the man behind the trafficking operation. Watched his enemies' blood spill.
He did it for his thirty dead brothers.
The day he finally retired, he sat by a river for hours. The man who'd dreamed of heroism was gone. In his place stood someone who understood that ideals were luxuries. Only power mattered.
---
The memory released him.
Ethan blinked. Turned to face the old man one last time.
Then he dropped to his knees.
"Grandpa." His voice was rough. "I can't promise you what you want."
He lifted his head. Eyes red, wet, but unwavering.
"I'll make this family more powerful than ever. I swear it." He paused. "But you let me be with her."
"This lifetime, I only want her. No one else. I will never marry anyone but her."
His hands curled into fists. "If you loved me at all—if I ever mattered to you—let me have this one thing."
Slowly, Aiden Bennett's eyes closed.