Badass in Disguise Chapter 279

This morning, Chris Jensen brought in another doctor—the latest in a parade of specialists who had examined Jade over the past weeks. Ethan watched from the corner of the room.

In the quiet moments between tests, Chris glanced at Ethan.

"Not once?" Chris asked softly. "She hasn't woken up at all?"

Ethan's silence was answer enough.

Chris studied Ethan's haggard appearance—the dark circles under his eyes, the weight loss evident in the way his once-perfect suit hung from his frame. "You need to take care of yourself," he said firmly. "If you collapse, and Night manages to take her, you won't even have the chance to visit her."

The doctor finished his examination and stepped back, his expression already telling the story before he spoke. Like all the others, he could only shake his head, offering hollow phrases about "monitoring the situation" and "time will tell." Chris dismissed him with a wave, waiting until the door closed behind him.

Then Chris moved to the bedside and sat down, sighing deeply. His eyes filled with a profound sadness as he looked at Jade. He wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

Though Jade herself had never considered her life particularly tragic, Chris had always felt differently. He knew what she had endured—the brutal training, the isolation, the betrayals. She had finally escaped the Shadow Organization's control, successfully completed her revenge, and even found someone she could trust. Now she lay here, suspended between life and death.

After a long moment, Chris spoke again. "Night and Ethan are going to fight over you sooner or later. The kind of fight where only one walks away." He paused. "If you don't wake up, I don't think I can stop them."

Chris didn't know if Jade retained any consciousness in her comatose state, but the doctors had suggested that verbal stimulation might help. If she could hear them, words might be the rope that pulled her back.

After sitting with her for nearly an hour, Chris took out his phone and recorded a short video of Jade.

"What are you doing?" Ethan asked, his voice rough from disuse.

"It's for Night," Chris replied simply.

He saved the recording and looked down at his phone. "He won't try to take her again—at least not right away." Night was unpredictable at the best of times; what he promised today, he might forget tomorrow.

---

Two weeks became a month, then a month and a half. Jade's external injuries healed remarkably well, though the scars remained vivid against her pale skin.

During this time, Ethan had flown in top neurologists from around the world. Each time he brought a new doctor to Jade's bedside with hope in his eyes, and each time he escorted them out with that hope dimmed further.

Eventually, Ethan had to accept the brutal diagnosis: Jade was in a persistent vegetative state. When he first heard those words—"vegetative state"—Ethan had felt the floor drop out from under him. A week later, he still hadn't fully processed it.

Vegetative state. People could remain like that for years. Decades. Forever. The thought of Jade never waking up made Ethan's hands and feet go numb with panic, made him forget how to walk, how to breathe.

What terrified him most was the possibility that Jade might be conscious through all of this—aware but unable to move or speak. Trapped in her own body, forced to lie there day after day, hearing his voice but unable to respond. Subjected to the indignity of being cared for like a doll. Counting each passing day of her life slipping away.

In a few years, her muscles would begin to atrophy, transforming her into something neither living nor dead...

Ethan couldn't bear to continue the thought. For someone as fiercely independent as Jade, this would be a fate a thousand times worse than death. Death would be a mercy by comparison.

She had once told him that, given the choice, she would rather sleep in a coffin than a hospital bed. Now she was trapped in a bed with no escape.

Ethan took her hand, enfolding it between his larger ones and bringing it to his lips. "If you're tired, rest for a while," he whispered against her fingers. "Rest as long as you need. But please, when you're ready, come back to me."

His eyes reddened as he fought to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible, filled with helpless fear:

"I'll wait for you to wake up, no matter how long it takes. Even if it takes a lifetime." He swallowed hard. "I know this is uncomfortable for you, but please, for my sake—for everyone who cares about you—hang on."

---

Two months after the incident, the weather gradually warmed, and clothing became lighter. Jade had been lying in her bed for all this time, and though Ethan still searched the world for doctors, receiving the same discouraging answers, his emotions had stabilized.

Besides the daily treatments and personally caring for her, Ethan had begun handling urgent company matters again. He even helped with her schoolwork, bringing laptops and textbooks to read the course material to her, though he knew it would be far too simple for her.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains. Ethan pulled back the covers and carefully lifted Jade into his arms. He sat on the edge of the bed, bringing her onto his lap. One arm went under her arms to support her body, cradling her against him. The movements were practiced, fluid with familiarity.

He swept her hair forward from her back, then began massaging her neck, shoulders, back, and waist. She had been lying in the same position for so long; it wasn't good for her body. Following Dr. Walter Morrison's instructions, Ethan had learned massage techniques to help relieve soreness, loosen her joints, and prevent muscle atrophy. The benefits for recovery were minimal, but he performed this ritual faithfully.

"The weather's nice today," Ethan said as he worked on her shoulders. "I'll take you outside later to get some sun."

"Captain got sick," he continued. "Your immune system is weak, so I had him moved upstairs while he recovers. I'll bring him back down when he's better."

Ethan sighed softly. "It's been almost a week, and he's not improving."

"He got sick because of your condition. Keeping him separated from you isn't helping—he misses you." Ethan pressed his face against the top of her head. "Will you be angry with me if I haven't taken good care of him when you wake up?"

"I don't even like dogs, especially since he's Lawrence's dog. But you like him." He continued massaging, his fingers working gently along her spine.

"What if I went upstairs and beat Lawrence up? Would that wake you up in anger?" Ethan's voice held a hint of desperation. "Can you hear me talking to you?"

"The doctors say I should talk to you often, that stimulation might help wake you up, though the chances are slim." His voice softened. "Even without their advice, I can't help talking to you all the time. I'm not usually talkative, you know—only with you. Good thing you don't mind." His lips curved in a sad smile. "Not that you have a choice."

The smile faded, his eyes growing troubled again.

He feared that if she could hear but couldn't wake, it would be torture for her. That's why he hadn't let Max or Chase visit yet—he couldn't bear the thought of her hearing their voices and being unable to respond.

After an hour of massage, Ethan carried her from the room and took the elevator downstairs. He gently placed her in a wheelchair and pushed her toward the garden in the back of the mansion.

The temperature and sunlight were perfect at this time of day. Ethan had made a habit of bringing her outside to enjoy the sun during these months.

The garden was beautifully designed, though Jade couldn't see it. Ethan crouched in front of her wheelchair, holding one of her small hands in his.

"The two times you visited before, you never got to walk around and see this place," he said. "My place is completely different from your award-winning Smart Ark. I should probably redesign it, shouldn't I? Otherwise you might not like it."