The bridge between scandal and survival

Ethan’s POV.

I was walking down the rain-slick streets of London, my coat clinging to me like a second skin as mist curled around the lamplight. I wasn’t going anywhere in particular, just trying to clear my mind. Honestly, I was going crazy.

You’re probably wondering why, right? 

Well… my fiancée, no, ex-fiancée… Evelyn, the woman I’d been with for five long years, is getting married.

To someone else.

And not just that, the artificial insemination I arranged so we could have a child together before tying the knot? It was never used on her. She told the clinic not to go through with it. No explanation, no discussion, just… sabotage. What’s even worse? I only found out after everything fell apart.

She could’ve just told me she was done. But instead? A storm of secrets, clinic drama, media leaks, and now this whirlwind of betrayal. All I wanted was a child. A family. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought…

And then I heard the blaring horn of a truck, loud and sharp like a blade slicing through the night. I turned just in time to see a girl standing still in the middle of the road, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her eyes shut like she was waiting for the end. The headlights painted her figure in harsh white light.

I didn’t think, I just ran.

I lunged and yanked her from the street just as the truck screeched past, the wind of it brushing my back. My heart was hammering as I yelled, “Are you okay!?”

That’s when I saw her face.

Ella.

Of course, it had to be her, the girl who unintentionally shattered my company’s stock price just by existing in a scandal I never intended. The girl who’s been at the center of every tabloid headline for the past week.

And now she was trying to get herself killed.

“What the hell are you doing, Ella? Do you want to die?”

She blinked at me, a small crooked smile forming as her eyes glistened under the streetlamp. “It’s you,” she slurred, her breath was filled with cheap vodka and despair.

The scent hit me instantly. “Are you drunk? Seriously? You’re pregnant, Ella.”

She swayed and leaned closer, pressing a trembling finger to my lips. “Shhh,” she whispered. “You could’ve just let me die…”

Then, just like that, her eyes rolled back. She went limp in my arms.

“Hey, Ella. Ella!”

But she didn’t respond.

Cursing under my breath, I waved down a passing taxi. I didn’t know where else to take her, certainly not back to wherever she’d been drinking herself into oblivion. And definitely not my apartment. That would cause another media frenzy.

So I made the only decision that seemed halfway sane.

I took her to a hotel.

The suite smelled faintly of pine and linen. After settling Ella on the bed, I stood at the edge of the room for a long moment, staring at her as she slept. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a tangled mess, mascara trailing down her face like war paint.

She looked like someone who had lost everything.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, letting out a breath. Why does this girl keep showing up in my life like some cursed shadow I can’t escape?

Then my phone buzzed.

The screen flashed: Dad

I sighed. That couldn't be good.

“Hello?” I answered.

“YOU FOOL!” he roared through the receiver. “Get to the family estate… now!”

He hung up before I could say a word. Typical Edward Caldwell. No room for questions, only commands.

By the time I reached the family estate, the rain had turned into a steady drizzle. The heavy doors opened to reveal the familiar grandeur: marble floors, golden chandeliers, and a suffocating air of disappointment.

Dad sat in his usual armchair like a throne, a glass of red wine swirling in his hand. Behind him stood my sister, Victoria, ever the loyal puppet, gently massaging his shoulders as though we were living in some twisted period drama.

Without looking up, he flung a newspaper at my feet.

The headline screamed:

“ETHAN CALDWELL IMPREGNATES STRANGE WOMAN — FIANCÉE DITCHES HIM, NET WORTH TUMBLES.”

I closed my eyes for a beat. Behind the headline was a photo of me and Ella. Although her face wasn't properly captured, it was quite blurry. 

I dropped to my knees. “Dad, I can explain…”

“Is it true or not!?” His voice thundered. “Did you get that girl pregnant?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I don’t care what I think! What does the world think, Ethan? I worked decades to build this empire, and now I see my idiot son ruining it with nobody from the streets!”

“I was planning to marry her. Just to calm the media. It’s a fake marriage...”

“Is that how you want to carry our legacy? By bringing in scandal and filth?”

Behind him, Victoria’s lips curled into a smirk. “I told you, Father. He’s not fit to lead Caldwell Hotels. If you handed the reins to me, none of this would’ve happened.”

Dad slammed his glass down on the table. “Get out of my sight, and fix this mess before you bury this company for good.”

I stood, clenched my jaw, and left. My heart was pounding in fury. In shame.

It wasn’t all Ella’s fault. Or Evelyn’s. The truth? I had brought this chaos into my life. Evelyn and I have spent years trying to conceive… doctors, tests, prayers, and empty promises. I thought artificial insemination would finally give me a child and the leverage to keep my father off my back. He's been pressuring me to give me an heir, which I desperately wanted to do before getting married, because without an heir the empire won't fully belong to me.

But Evelyn never wanted it. She pretended. Just like she pretended we still had love left.

Maybe I had pushed her away.

Maybe I deserved this.

As I reached the gates, my phone buzzed again.

New Message. Unknown Number.

I opened it.

It was a photo, a clear shot of me carrying Ella into the hotel. Her eyes closed, her arms limp. My face looked… desperate.

And then the message followed:

 “If you don’t want this picture leaked to the media, meet me at the bridge. 9PM. Come alone. Bring 500 thousand in cash.”

I stared at the screen.

The rain tapped against the car roof like ticking time.

My blood ran cold.

Who the hell was doing this?