Chapter 314

Chapter 314

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry." Sophia looked at him. "This whole thing... I've dragged you into it."

Ethan's hand paused on the steering wheel. He turned to look at Sophia.

The light inside the car was dim. His expression was hard to make out.

He smiled slightly.

"This has nothing to do with you."

His voice was calm—no attempt at comfort, no pretense of indifference.

"Even without you, the Russell family would've come for me eventually. James and I—our philosophies were never the same from the start." Ethan's gaze returned to the road ahead. "He wants to build a commercial empire. I want to build a sanctuary. We're on different paths. That's all."

He didn't say "and we can't walk them together," but the meaning was clear.

Sophia said nothing more.

She knew Ethan was trying to ease her conscience. But the connection was real. Undeniable.

The car fell silent again, filled only with the low hum of the engine and the rush of wind outside the windows.

By the time they returned to the city, it was the middle of the night.

Ethan didn't take Sophia back to the gallery. Instead, he drove straight to his private hospital.

"Get out." He unbuckled his seatbelt. "It's time for your full checkup anyway."

His tone left no room for argument—like a routine doctor reminding his patient of an appointment.

Sophia was surprised, but she followed him out of the car without protest.

The hospital was quiet, with only a few nurses on the night shift. When they saw Ethan, they greeted him respectfully, their gazes lingering on Sophia with careful curiosity.

Ethan didn't acknowledge them. He led Sophia directly to the VIP examination center on the top floor.

The equipment here was more advanced than the public floors below, and the privacy more secure.

Blood work, CT scan, endoscopy...

By the time they finished the full battery of tests, dawn was breaking.

Sophia lay on a bed in the recovery room, still groggy from the anesthesia. Her whole body felt heavy and dull.

Ethan sat in a chair beside her, head bent over a tablet. Morning light filtered through the slats of the blinds, casting fragmented strips of light across his shoulders.

He seemed to sense her gaze and looked up.

"Hungry? I had the kitchen prepare some chicken soup."

"I'm okay." Sophia sat up, her voice still hoarse.

"The results won't be ready until this afternoon at the earliest." Ethan said. "You should rest."

Sophia shook her head. "I can't sleep."

She looked out the window. The sky shifted from gray-white to pale blue, bit by bit. The city was waking up.

It had been a long time since she'd waited this calmly for a verdict on her own life or death.

Before, it was despair. Then, numbness.

Now, there was something different stirring inside her—something she couldn't quite name. Maybe it was hope.

Ethan didn't press her. He just raised the head of her bed and poured her a glass of warm water.

Neither of them spoke. They waited in silence.

Three o'clock in the afternoon.

Ethan's mentor, Professor Williams—the country's most renowned oncology expert—walked in personally, holding a stack of reports.

His expression was strange.

Not the heaviness of delivering a terminal diagnosis. Not the joy of a cure, either. Something else—shock mixed with confusion, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

He adjusted his reading glasses, his gaze darting between Sophia and Ethan.

"Ethan," he said, his voice a little dry, "come with me for a moment."

Ethan's heart tightened. He followed Professor Williams into the outer room. The door didn't close all the way—a crack remained.

"Professor Williams, what's the situation?"

Professor Williams didn't answer right away. Instead, he clipped several CT films onto the light box.

"See for yourself."

Ethan's eyes landed on the images.

They were scans of Sophia's stomach.

His expression shifted—from tension, to confusion, to utter disbelief.

He reached out, his fingertips almost touching the film.

"This..."

"I've been practicing medicine for forty years. I've never seen anything like this." Professor Williams' voice still carried the remnants of shock. "The cancer cells... they're gone. Not controlled. Not dormant. Completely gone."

He pointed to a spot on the image. "Look here. This was the most severe area of proliferation. Now it's as smooth as a healthy stomach lining. Every indicator has returned to normal levels. If I hadn't done the pathology slides myself back then, I'd wonder if the original diagnosis was a mistake."

Ethan couldn't say a word.

He knew better than anyone that the original diagnosis had been correct. He'd seen Sophia curled up on the floor during an episode. He'd seen her previous reports—hopeless, every one of them.

But now...

"Medically speaking, there are extremely rare cases of spontaneous cancer remission, but the odds are lower than being struck by lightning five times." Professor Williams removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This girl... what has she been through recently? Has she been taking any special medication?"

Ethan shook his head, his mind blank.

All he knew was that Sophia had been drinking the herbal remedies Mr. Smith had sourced. He'd reviewed the formulas—gentle tonics meant to strengthen the body, nothing more. They couldn't possibly have this kind of miraculous effect.

"A miracle..." Professor Williams murmured. "This is nothing short of a medical miracle."

Ethan took the report—something that could be written into textbooks—and walked back into the room.

Sophia was looking out the window. When she heard footsteps, she turned.

Her eyes were calm, as if asking: What's the result?

Ethan walked over and handed her the report.

Sophia stared at the numbers she didn't fully understand, but which all indicated 'normal.' She didn't speak for a long time.

Ethan's hand settled gently over hers.

Warm.

Sophia lifted her gaze from the report and met his kind eyes.

Suddenly, she smiled.

Not the polite, distant smile she usually wore. This was real—from somewhere deep inside. Her eyes lit up.

"Ethan." She said his name.

"Yeah?"

"I want to paint."

She wanted to go places. See things. Paint them all.

With healthy hands and a healthy body.

The thought took root the moment it surfaced, spreading wildly.

A week later, the gallery handover was complete.

Mr. Smith was thrilled about Sophia's decision to travel.

"Go! Absolutely go! Artists need to move, to see the world! What kind of work can you create if you're cooped up in one place?" He waved his hand grandly and even gave Sophia several of his treasured brushes. "If you run out of money, just tell me. Don't shortchange yourself."

Stanley came by, too.

True to form, he was concise. He laid a map and an itinerary on the table.

"I've vetted the route. This one's the safest. Along the way, you'll pass through some remote mountain areas. There are grassroots children's art studios there—poorly equipped, short on teachers and supplies."

His meaning was clear.

This wouldn't just be a trip for inspiration. It could also be a charity mission.

Sophia studied the winding route, which ended at a small county deep in the interior.

She nodded. "This route."

Ethan was coming, naturally. Under the pretext of being her 'personal physician,' he gave himself an extended leave. The rehab center project had a capable team; he only needed to manage remotely.

The day before departure.

Stanley was performing a final safety check on his SUV—unassuming on the outside, top-tier custom work underneath.

Ethan had also brought his own vehicle, an equally high-performance SUV, to serve as backup and cargo transport.

Stanley crouched under the car, holding a small detector. The device beeped softly when he scanned a certain spot.

Without a word, he reached into the seam of the undercarriage and pried out a small black device, about the size of a matchbox.

Ethan watched from the side, frowning. "The Russell family?"

"Yeah." Stanley dropped the device into a signal-blocking pouch and continued inspecting his own car. Soon enough, he found an identical one hidden in an extremely discreet corner.

"Two of them." He stood, dusting off his hands. "Latest military-grade GPS. You can't get these on the open market."

Ethan's expression darkened.

Frank was under scrutiny by Interpol, yet the Russell family wasn't backing off—they were escalating.

"I had some people scramble a few of the Russell family's overseas funding channels." Stanley's tone was flat, like he was discussing the weather. "Frank should be pretty busy right now. Won't have time to bother us."

Ethan looked at him.

He knew Stanley was a top-tier hacker, but this casual dismantling of a powerful family's infrastructure was still startling.

This quiet, somewhat reclusive young man—his reach was far greater than Ethan had imagined.

"Good. As long as they're cleared out." Ethan exhaled in relief.

"Not yet." Stanley said.

He walked over to Ethan's car. This time, he didn't use the detector. He simply bent down and felt along the inside of the rear bumper.

A moment later, he pulled out something else.

It was smaller, thinner—a circular metal disc with no markings, but precision craftsmanship.

Ethan froze. "That's one too?"

"No." Stanley held the disc in his palm, studying it carefully. "This one isn't from the Russell family."

"Then whose is it?"

Stanley shook his head, a trace of gravity entering his expression for the first time.

"This thing is older than the Russell family's trackers. It's been on your car for at least a year."

He paused, then said something that sent a chill down Ethan's spine.

"And the architecture—I've never seen it before."

Ethan stared at the metal disc in Stanley's palm. The cold crept up his spine, vertebra by vertebra.

An unknown tracking device.

From an unseen enemy who'd been watching for over a year.

Who was it?

What did they want?

The Russell family was ruthless, but at least they operated in the open—like a predator marking its territory.

This thing? This was a snake in the grass. Silent. Waiting to strike.

"Should we... postpone the trip?" Ethan asked, his gaze drifting toward Sophia in the distance.