He didn’t even wait for his assistant to respond before turning to leave, his focus entirely on Ava. To everyone else, he showed no patience.
Through gritted teeth, he shot a look at me that could have burned holes. “I’m going to the hospital to check on Emma myself!” Two bodyguards grabbed me roughly, hauling me up. I was too stunned to even react, my mind barely registering his words.
But then he stopped. He turned back, his eyes blazing. “Once I find Emma, I’m divorcing you, no matter what you say!”
Ava’s face, which had been carefully blank, lit up with a glint of satisfaction. She softened her voice, moving to Ethan’s side like she was playing the concerned partner. “Ethan, don’t be like this. I’m not angry at Emma anymore. I’ll be fine after some meds and an IV. As long as Emma knows her mistake, it’s okay. We’ll see each other again soon.”
The venom in her tone made my blood run cold. Even after Emma was gone, she was still trying to destroy her name.
That did it. Something snapped inside me, and for a brief moment, I found strength I didn’t know I had. I broke free from the bodyguards’ grip and snatched the bottle of alcohol from Ethan’s hand, splashing it all over Ava’s face before anyone could stop me.
She screamed, but Ethan’s rage flared. Without a second’s hesitation, he slapped me across the face, the sting sharp and cruel. His voice was low and deadly as he barked orders at the bodyguards. “Take her to the hospital. I’ll follow behind.”
He gave one last command, turning to face the bodyguard stationed at the door. “Don’t let her leave,” he said coldly. And just like that, I was trapped in my own home—with Emma’s ashes, the door slamming shut behind them.
The silence that followed felt suffocating. I collapsed to the floor, all the fight drained out of me. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged my knees to my chest, unable to find peace.
Then, through the haze of grief, I remembered the ashes still clinging to my face. My movements were shaky and slow as I crawled to Emma’s urn. Gently, I scraped the dried ashes from my face and placed them back into the urn. Each piece stuck to my skin, and the pain from it was a reminder of everything I had lost.
Once I finished, I couldn’t stop myself from lying down on the floor, exhausted. But the cold, hard reality of what had just happened hit me again. With trembling hands, I gathered every last grain of ash off the floor, making sure nothing was left behind.
When I was finally done, I let out a shaky sigh of relief. I stood up, Emma’s urn held tightly in my hands, my legs shaky as I stumbled back inside. Only then did I notice the raw, swollen pain on my face. I took some allergy medicine and sipped some water, the heaviness of everything weighing on me.
I lay down on the couch, holding Emma’s urn like it was the last piece of me still intact. How much time passed, I couldn’t say. I was drifting in and out when my phone rang, shattering the silence.
I glanced at the screen. It was Eleanor.
