Chapter 19
After hanging up the phone, he sat in his chair, staring blankly into the distance.
Ethan remained lost in thought for quite some time before finally getting up and leaving the study. Standing in front of the bedroom door, he found himself unable to muster the courage to open it. The closed door seemed like an invisible barrier, separating him from Claire, who lay inside.
It was her own actions that brought her to this state, yet his heart still ached with an unbearable heaviness.Z
As he hesitated, a servant hurried over. “Sir, Miss Vanessa’s birthday celebration is about to start. You should head over there now.”
Ethan hesitated, casting a deep look at the bedroom door before turning away silently and following the servant.!
In the ballroom, Vanessa was the center of attention, like a princess surrounded by her adoring subjects. She stood in front of an ornate cake as everyone sang “Happy Birthday” in unison, When the song ended, she took a deep breath and blew out the candles in one go.
In an instant, colorful balloons and streamers burst into the air, and everyone cheered “Happy Birthday to Vanessa, their voices echoing through the hall.
Ethan stood among the crowd, observing the beaming faces. Inevitably, his mind conjured up the image of Claire, lying pale and frail in bed.
He wanted to smile but found it impossible.
While others gathered around the cake, joyfully sharing slices, Ethan drifted alone to the champagne tower. He grabbed a glass and downed it in one go. The liquid trickled down his chin, soaking his collar. Ignoring it, he continued to drink, as if battling the pain and guilt gnawing at him.
Before long, he was unsteady on his feet, his surroundings blurring into a distant hum of laughter and chatter. With what little clarity he had left, he staggered towards the exit of the hall.
Before reaching the bedroom, a wave of nausea overtook him, and he rushed to the bathroom, clutching the sink as he vomited. Afterwards, he gasped for air, his chaotic mind finally gaining some clarity. He turned on the faucet, letting cold water splash over his face until he was fully awake.
Propping himself up on the sink, he lifted his dripping face to the mirror. His disheveled hair clung to his forehead, water droplets tracing the sharp lines of his features.
He mocked himself aloud, “I did nothing wrong. Why torture myself? This is madness.”
Just then, his phone rang. It was Quinn.)
Wiping his face, Ethan answered.
“Hello,”
“Sir, I’ve uncovered everything you asked for, Quinn said.
“Speak, Ethan’s voice was ice–cold.
Quinn hesitated.
Ethan’s impatience grew. What is it?“)
“Uh… sir, you should brace yourself, Quinn’s voice was unusually heavy.
Ethan’s heart sank, sensing that Quinn’s next words would be brutal. Still, he pressed on resolutely. “Go on.”
Quinn took a deep breath before recounting Claire’s ordeal in prison.
*Sir, Miss Claire has been beaten almost daily since she got there. They’ve slapped her, forced her to drink toilet water, deprived her of sleep, made her kneel in humiliation, and if she resisted, they used needles on her…”
Ethan’s grip on his phone tightened, his breath quickening, and he gritted his teeth, “Needles? How could they have needles in prison?”
a b c
“Since Miss Claire had to leam embroidery while in prison. Z
