chapter 5

The third perspective:

Ethan froze for a second, looking completely thrown off. "What did you just say?"

Daniel's voice caught in his throat. "Ethan, we've met at the hospital before.

"That day, at the end of that hallway was the ER. She is inside now, being resuscitated. This is already the second critical notice."

A buzzing filled Ethan's ears.

His sharp mind went blank—he couldn't even process one damn sentence.

He muttered a quick apology to Olivia, grabbed his car keys, and rushed toward the hospital.

The car sped like lightning, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. His thoughts spiraled. Could this be another trap? Was Claire trying to get back at him for rejecting her, deliberately wrecking the wedding?

But what could he do? He still walked right into the trap.

Not until he saw Daniel sitting in despair at the end of the hallway.

Ethan's mind went blank with a loud crash, and his whole body trembled uncontrollably.

Daniel stood up when he saw him, handing over the critical notice and a pen. "Sign here."

Ethan stared at the thin piece of paper in disbelief, then looked up and demanded, "Acute pancreatic cancer? Why?

"When did she... how... why didn't I know?"

The weight of grief crushed his voice until he could barely speak.

He could only stare at Daniel with pleading eyes, desperate for him to say this was a joke.

Daniel's eyes turned red as he turned his head and spoke slowly, "When Claire was first diagnosed, she reacted the same way you did. She sat in the hallway sobbing, asking why she had to die so young.

"Then she got the news that you were forcing her into a divorce. After that, she stopped crying.

"She refused treatment—she cared too much about her looks. She didn't want to lose all her hair. She even joked to me once, saying you never really liked her anyway, and if she turned ugly, the two of you would stand no chance at all."

Daniel said this while pulling out a check from his pocket, handing it back to Ethan. "She only spent five hundred thousand. She asked me to return the rest to you. Cindralis Cemetery, Plot 97—that's the spot she picked herself. She said the fifty thousand was your last gift to her.

"That day, she didn't stand you up on purpose. In the late stages of pancreatic cancer, the pain is unbearable. She took so many painkillers, but still collapsed on the very day she was supposed to take wedding photos with you. She never even made it out the door.

"It was the cemetery staff who couldn't reach her, so they called me. She was in the emergency room for three days. The first thing she did after getting out was try to find you.

"She didn't mean to. She had no real wishes left—just wanted to wear a wedding dress for you one last time before she died."

Daniel rambled on like that.

His voice was calm yet full of despair, every word falling into Ethan's ears like a belated knife, cutting him open, raw and bleeding.

At 9:03 p.m., Ethan got the third critical notice.

The nurse reeked of blood as she urged him to sign quickly.

As soon as his pen left the paper, Ethan's phone wouldn't stop vibrating.

He made up his mind and answered the call, the bright red ER light glaring in his eyes.

Ethan spoke into the phone, "Olivia, let's call off the engagement."