Chapter 144

Chapter 144

Ethan's POV

The hospital room door clicked shut.

I stared at that white door for a full five seconds before slowly pulling my gaze away.

Kimber still sat frozen on the corner sofa, mouth slightly agape, clearly unable to process what she'd just walked in on.

"Kimber."

My voice scraped out from between clenched teeth, low and restrained.

She flinched at my tone, finally snapping back to reality. Seeing the look in my eyes, she visibly paled and raised both hands defensively. "I didn't mean to, Ethan! I had no idea you two were—"

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Get out." I pointed toward the door. "I don't want to see you again tonight."

Kimber practically scrambled out of the room like she'd been granted a pardon.

The door closed. The scent of disinfectant and sterile air refilled the space. Silence settled.

I slumped back against the headboard, staring down at my empty palm.

I could still feel the ghost of her touch—the cool, delicate sensation of her fingertips. The way her lashes had lowered just slightly in that moment, like something precious and fragile caught in the amber glow of the wall lamp, there and gone in a heartbeat.

So close.

We'd been so close.

I shut my eyes in frustration, mentally cursing Kimber six ways to Sunday before I could finally tamp down the surge of irritation.

But the moment that frustration faded, something else rushed in to fill the void.

BioNova Labs. The Rivera family.

Serena was shouldering all of this alone. She didn't want my help. She wanted to fight this battle herself. I understood her—that steel in her spine, that stubborn refusal to bend even if it meant breaking—it was what captivated me. It was also what made it impossible for me to just sit here in this hospital bed and do nothing.

I understood her. But I had my own way of doing things.

I threw off the thin blanket and tried to get out of bed.

The wound on my back flared with blinding pain—like someone had shoved a red-hot iron rod straight into the muscle. I bit back a groan, cold sweat instantly beading on my temples. Gripping the metal bed rail, I braced myself for several seconds before I could stand upright.

I grabbed my phone and called Lucas.

"Get the car ready. We're going to the Rivera Estate."

"Now?" Lucas's voice was thick with sleep, the brief pause betraying his surprise.

"Yes. Now."

"But your injuries—"

"I'm not dying from this."

A two-second silence on the other end, then Lucas's crisp, "Yes, sir."

---

The night had grown deep.

The black SUV pulled out of the private hospital parking lot in Manhattan and merged into the sparse late-night traffic, heading toward the Upper East Side. I leaned back against the wide rear seat, the wound on my back throbbing with every slight bump in the road, but I no longer had the energy to care.

The Rivera Estate sat on a quiet street in the Upper East Side, ablaze with lights against the darkness. The wrought-iron gates on either side cast neat shadows under the streetlamps.

The car stopped. I got out. The butler, who'd rushed out upon hearing the engine, froze when he saw me, shock flooding his face.

"Mr. Blackwood?"

"Tell Mrs. Rivera that Ethan Blackwood is here to see her."

The doorman immediately bowed. "Please, come in, sir. I'll notify her at once."

I was led into the main hall. I didn't sit. Instead, I stood with my hands clasped behind my back in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the shadowy lawn lights in the courtyard.

The pain in my back was constant—a dull, burning ache radiating from my right shoulder down to my lower spine. I leaned slightly against the window frame, forcing down the pain, maintaining my posture.

Footsteps echoed from deep within the corridor, sharp and measured against the marble floor.

"Mr. Blackwood honors us with a late-night visit. To what do I owe this… instruction?"

Tiffany entered, wearing her usual mask of polite, distant civility. But her sharp eyes swept over me once, then lingered on my shoulder and back for just a moment.

I turned slowly to face her and got straight to the point.

"Mrs. Rivera. The BioNova Labs situation—it ends now."

Her gaze flickered slightly, but the smile on her face didn't waver. If anything, it took on a note of perfectly calibrated confusion, as if she were playing the role of a wrongly accused society matron. "Mr. Blackwood, I'm not sure what you mean. BioNova Labs is a legitimate biotech company. Their dispute with Crimson Jewelry is a normal business matter. What does any of that have to do with me?"

"Stop the act."

I cut her off, my voice low but sharp enough to shatter the last veneer of false courtesy in the room.

"Going after Crimson Jewelry means going after Serena. Going after Serena means crossing my line."

I took a slow step forward.

"Mrs. Rivera, the grudges of the past belonged to the previous generation. The Blackwood family's early business maneuvers were acts of self-preservation and retaliation in a ruthless era—each side fighting for their own. Fair game. But if you insist on dragging those old scores into the present, if you're willing to involve innocent people and use such underhanded tactics to sabotage a woman's livelihood…"

I paused, meeting her eyes directly, enunciating each word.

"Then I don't mind letting this feud replay itself today. Only this time, the ending might not be what you're hoping for."

Tiffany's face turned ashen.

"Ethan! How dare you!"

A sharp rebuke rang out from the entrance.

I turned my head—Brian stood in the doorway. I had no idea how long he'd been there. He strode quickly into the room, positioning himself protectively in front of Tiffany, his eyes cold and furious as they locked onto mine. "This is my home! Not some place for you to throw your weight around! And my mother is not someone you get to threaten!"

My gaze drifted over him with faint disinterest. I didn't even bother to respond—

"Ethan? What are you doing here? Did you come to see me?"

A soft, surprised voice floated in from the entrance.

Vivian appeared at the threshold, dressed in an elegant loungewear dress, her eyes flitting between the three of us with feigned bewilderment.

I focused my gaze on her. "What are you doing here?"

She glided into the room and casually looped her arm through Tiffany's, her tone laced with pride and intimacy. "Tiffany is my aunt. Of course I'm here."

Aunt.

I stared at the scene before me, pieces clicking into place in my mind.

Tiffany was Vivian's aunt.

She was targeting Crimson Jewelry—targeting Serena—to protect Vivian.

This Tiffany had most likely been deceived by Vivian.

I looked back at Tiffany, my expression darkening.

She thought she was defending family.

But she didn't know that the so-called "family" she was shielding—wasn't her family at all.