When Love Turns to Ashes Chapter 3

"Ahhhhh—!"

Ethan felt his bones shatter. Warm liquid pooled beneath him, staining his shirt crimson.

Pain.

Excruciating pain.

Before consciousness faded completely, he remembered sixteen-year-old Victoria confessing under the moonlight, her ears pink: "Ethan, I'll love you forever."

A single cold tear slid from the corner of his eye.

He finally, completely, despairingly accepted the truth.

That woman who'd loved him for nine whole years...

She really didn't love him anymore.

When he woke again, Ethan found himself in a hospital bed.

He didn't cry or make a scene. His chest felt hollow, as if someone had carved out his heart, leaving only numb coldness.

He pulled out his phone and called the house staff, his voice eerily calm: "Bring me the sandalwood box from my study drawer."

The staff quickly delivered it.

Inside was a blank piece of paper with Victoria's signature.

It was a birthday gift she'd given him when he turned eighteen. She'd signed it, saying that from then on, whatever he wanted, she'd give him.

Back then, he'd treasured that paper too much to use it for anything.

Now, he'd use it to end this nine-year obsession himself.

He wasn't pathetic enough to keep clinging to her.

Their child was gone, but in exchange, he'd finally given up hope. He'd finally seen reality.

In exchange, he'd return to who he was before meeting her.

Ethan signed his name and called his lawyer.

"Draw up divorce papers." His voice was terrifyingly calm.

The lawyer nodded. "Certainly, Mr. Brooks. After the papers are drafted, there's a mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period. If neither party objects after that, the court will notify you to finalize the divorce."

"Understood." Ethan nodded without expression. "As soon as possible."

After the lawyer left, Ethan was alone in the hospital room.

He closed his eyes. No tears came.

His heart was empty—even grief felt exhausting.

Just then, the door opened softly.

Expecting the lawyer's return, Ethan opened his eyes—only to see the last face he wanted to see: Luke Mitchell.

He hadn't expected Luke to come looking for him.

"What do you want?" Ethan's voice was hoarse.

"Mr. Brooks," Luke maintained his mild demeanor, holding a thermos, "I heard about what Victoria did to you. I wish I'd been there to stop her..."

Ethan stared at him coldly, unwilling to hear this false concern.

But Luke continued, his voice rough: "Still, you have to understand... when we lost our baby, Victoria was devastated. She clung to me, crying like a child, saying it was the embodiment of our love... She didn't eat or drink for days. She'd just miscarried herself but stayed by my hospital bed..."

Each word was like a poisoned knife, slicing through Ethan's already shredded heart.

"If you just came to say that," Ethan interrupted, his voice hoarse and cold, "you can leave. You're not welcome here."

Luke raised the thermos. "I... I made you soup. To help you recover. You're weak right now, you need to drink it to regain your strength..."

"I'm not drinking it. Take it away." Ethan turned his face in disgust.

The concern vanished from Luke's face, replaced by cold determination. "Well... that's not really up to you."

He lunged forward, grabbed Ethan's jaw with shocking strength, and forced the thermos contents down his throat!

"Let go! Luke! What the hell are you doing?!" Ethan struggled weakly, no match for the man's grip.

When Luke finally released him, Ethan collapsed against the bed, coughing violently, his stomach churning.

Luke wiped his hands methodically, a crazed smile spreading across his face. "How was it? Good?"