Chapter 4

Three days later, word got out that Samson had been forced to withdraw from university.

He went to Rosalind in tears as he said, “Rose, I’m done for! My education is over. My reputation is destroyed. Everyone is condemning me.”

He sobbed as he clutched at her sleeves. “Ethan agreed to it back then. Why is he trying to ruin me now?”

She looked at his wretched and helpless state.

As she recalled Ethan’s deranged behavior that day with the knife, waves of anger surged through her.

She should have known this earlier.

After losing Nina, he was no longer as calm and gentle as he used to be.

She had been too soft-hearted. That was why she had indulged him time and again.

That same afternoon, she went straight back to the villa.

She burst through the door and looked at Ethan coldly, saying, “You did this.”

Without looking at her, he responded, “Yes. What of it? He hurt Nina. He destroyed everything I had. I’m just implementing a little justice.”

She was so angry that she could barely catch her breath.

“Justice?” she scoffed. “Ethan, have you completely lost it?”

She raised her hand. The bodyguards behind her stepped forward.

“From today on, you’re staying in a sanatorium. I’ll only let you come home when you come to your senses.”

Ethan’s head snapped up. His face was ashen. “Rosalind, you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The bodyguards stepped in and hauled the weakened Ethan by his arms.

He thrashed, screamed, and kicked, but every effort was useless.

They forced him into a car and drove him out to the most isolated sanatorium on the city’s outskirts.

Life over there was bleak and hopeless.

At first, Ethan fought back with all his might.

He ranted and raged, telling people there that he was not sick.

No one listened. Instead, they pumped him with sedatives, bound him with restraints, and gave him even colder treatment.

They underfed him and deprived him of proper sleep. During the day, he was shoved around and berated. At night, he was locked in a frigid, pitch-black room.

Each day brought fresh bruises and new wounds.

On the seventh day, Rosalind finally came.

She wore a long black coat. She carried a hint of exhaustion that was almost imperceptible in her eyes.

She froze the moment she saw him.

He sat slumped in the corner, hair disheveled and face drained of color. Red marks from the restraints still circled his wrists.

“Are you ready to admit you were wrong?”

Ethan slowly lifted his hollow gaze to look at her.

“I have nothing to admit.”

She frowned and said in an icy tone, “Ethan, stop being so stubborn. You were the one who asked me to be with Sam in the first place. You gave me up to save Nina.

“Now, you turn around and ruin his education and his future. Isn’t that burning the bridge after you’ve crossed it?”

Every word she said cut him to the core.

She seemed to have forgotten that it was Samson who had used the bone marrow match as leverage.

She was the one who had fallen deeper in love with Samson and forgotten her family. Then, she forgot her child and him.

In the end, he was the one blamed.

Ethan let out a bitter laugh. It was so cold and empty that tears streamed down his cheeks.

In the next instant, he raised his hand.

He put every last bit of his strength into it, striking Rosalind hard across the face.

She stood frozen. Her cheek stung with a fiery burn.

Ethan lowered his hand and said, “The only thing I did wrong was not seeing you for who you really are.”

He said nothing more and never looked back. He steadied himself against his worn and aching body and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

The past week spent in suffocating darkness and unending agony had wrung him dry. Each step he took sent a jolt of pain through his bones. The red marks on his wrists still pulsed with a dull ache.

As Rosalind stared at his gaunt, stubborn frame, her heart tightened unexpectedly.

She was angry and frustrated, but seeing him in such a sorry state, she could not bring herself to lash out.

The frustration only made her feel more suffocated and unsettled.

She suppressed those emotions and said coldly, “Get in.”

Ethan quietly settled into the back seat. His eyes widened when he saw who was sitting in the passenger seat.

It was Samson.

Samson could barely conceal the smugness in his gaze as he toyed with his phone.

The screen glowed brightly, displaying a social media page.

When Ethan focused on it, one look was all he needed to fully understand what was on the screen.

Samson’s image was completely turned around. He was playing the victim card.

He painted Ethan as a deranged guy who lost his kid and was out for blood.

The netizens bombarded Ethan with hate comments, blaming him for being the “crazy one.”

He did not need to think twice. He knew Rosalind was behind it all.

As she drove, she glanced at Ethan in the rearview mirror.

His hair was a mess, and his face was pale as a ghost. He looked nothing like his usual self.

She frowned at his pathetic state as she said, “What happened to you? You look terrible. I specifically told them to look after you.

“Stop obsessing over Nina and dragging this out. Look where it’s gotten you. Was it really worth it?”

Ethan closed his eyes. He could not be bothered to look at them or talk to them anymore.

He simply turned his head toward the window and stared out blankly.

Seeing him remain silent, Rosalind felt an inexplicable restlessness stir within her. She was irritated.

She instinctively turned her head, about to say something else.

Then, out of nowhere, blinding headlights washed over them. The deafening blast of a horn followed. A massive truck came charging straight at them.