Chapter 4

Autumn's POV

That was when the footsteps arrived outside the door.

The door swung open, and Ethan stood in the frame, taking in the sight of Brenda clutching her face with tears streaming down.

He shoved me aside roughly, pulling Brenda behind his back.

He used so much force that, weak from the miscarriage, I slammed hard against the headboard, a sharp numbness shooting up my tailbone.

"Ethan..." Brenda sobbed against his chest, her shoulders shaking violently. "I just came to check on Autumn... I didn't say anything..."

"Who gave you permission to touch her?" His voice wasn't loud, but it was deadly cold.

Two nurses and another patient's family member were in the room, too terrified to make a sound.

Ethan glanced toward the hallway, and the men waiting outside stepped in, hauling me up from the edge of the bed.

"She just had a miscarriage, you can't treat her like this!"

A nurse managed half a sentence before Ethan's glare shut her down completely. He didn't even spare her a second look.

"Don't let her dodge it, and don't let her sit." Ethan looked at me coldly. "Every ounce of grievance Brenda suffered, I'm going to extract from you, piece by piece."

I was held upright, my toes barely touching the linoleum, a dull, dragging ache tearing through my abdomen.

I tilted my head back and stared at this man.

Years ago, before my parents' graves, he had stood with his head bowed, reciting his vows line by line before taking their urns into his own arms.

That day, I genuinely believed he was a man who could shoulder the entire world for me.

"Ethan Vance." My voice was terribly hoarse. "Do you remember what you swore at my parents' graves? You said you would treat me well for the rest of your life. You said if you ever changed your mind, God could strike you down."

He looked down at me as if he had just heard a pathetic joke.

"I never faked it. When I loved you, it was real. I wasn't acting," he said coldly. "And now that I don't love you, there's no need to act either. Do you really need me to say it to your face? Autumn, people change. You're the only one refusing to accept reality."

I fell silent.

I had brought up that vow today only because a foolish part of me still hoped to hear a shred of humanity from him.

Yet those were the words that came out of his mouth.

Asking anything else was entirely pointless.

Two hours. It wasn't an eternity, but it wasn't short either.

I was only a few days out from a traumatic miscarriage; the bleeding hadn't even stopped, and I was as frail as a sheet of paper.

The two men flanking me held me rigid. The moment my knees buckled, they yanked my arms up; the moment I swayed, they forced me upright.

Outside the window, the sun crept across the sky. Dark spots swam across my vision, cold sweat soaking through my hospital gown and dripping down my temples.

A nurse couldn't bear to watch and quietly tried to hand me a warm towel. Ethan caught it with a sideways glance, and her hand shook before she quickly pulled the towel back.

In a room full of people, not a single soul dared to speak up for me.

Once that towel vanished, I stopped looking at anyone.

Everyone in this room depended on him for a living.

Waiting for someone to throw me a lifeline would only force me to stand for another hour.

During the final hour, my body gave out entirely. I gagged, coughing up a mouthful of blood that splattered across the pristine white sheets.

The bodyguards holding me blanched, their grip loosening slightly.

"Keep going..." I heard myself laugh, my voice airy and detached. "Didn't you say two hours? There are still fifteen minutes left."

Ethan finally looked at me, as if he had just finished watching a play that had dragged on far too long.

Without a word, he turned, took Brenda by the hand, and walked out.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and smiled.

"Remember today, Ethan," I murmured coldly. "Those who betray genuine love will face a debt they can never repay."

I endured those two hours on my own.

From this day forward, I would never question him with words from our past.

When the time came to collect, it would be the day he could no longer afford the price.