Isabella lay on the sterile hospital bed.

Her face was pale, etched with discomfort.

Her brows were tightly drawn together.

Lucas remained close, his watchful gaze never leaving her.

He gently brushed strands of hair from her forehead.

His touch was feather-light, meant to soothe.

“Isabella, I’m right here,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

The sharp scent of antiseptic hung heavily in the air.

Slowly, consciousness returned to her.

Her eyelashes fluttered weakly.

A warm, steady hand held hers, anchoring her.

Confusion swirled, but that grip felt like safety.

Lucas watched the color gradually return to her cheeks.

He allowed himself a small, relieved breath.

Suddenly, the door slammed open against the wall.

A tall, imposing figure filled the doorway.

Ethan stood there, his presence crackling with cold rage.

His eyes were bloodshot, scanning the room wildly.

They locked onto Isabella.

He moved toward the bed with purposeful, angry strides.

“Step away from her.” Lucas rose swiftly, positioning himself as a shield.

Ethan’s gaze dropped to Lucas’s hand, still holding Isabella’s.

His expression darkened dangerously.

He grabbed Lucas’s arm, his grip like iron. “Who gave you the right to stand in my way?”

Lucas didn’t flinch. He met Ethan’s glare head-on. “I’m her friend. The one who was here when she needed someone.”

A harsh, mocking laugh escaped Ethan. “Friend? Is that what you’re calling it?” He tried to push past.

Lucas stood his ground, blocking him again.

“Enough, Ethan.” Lucas’s voice was low, firm. “She needs to rest. Not deal with your drama.”

Ethan’s control snapped. “She is still my wife.”

Their raised voices pulled Isabella fully awake.

Her eyes opened, blinking against the light.

She saw them—two men squared off over her bed.

Tension thickened the air between them.

Ethan noticed her awake. His narrowed eyes fixed on her.

Her gaze darted from his angry face to Lucas’s protective stance.

Fragmented memories rushed back.

The karaoke bar.

The forced drinks.

Her desperate escape.

The pieces clicked into a horrifying picture.

Why was Ethan here now?

Did he… orchestrate this?

A cold dread seized her.

She pushed herself up, ignoring the weakness. “Enjoying the spectacle, Mr. Blackwood?”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. He said nothing.

Her voice grew stronger, laced with ice. “If you’re quite finished, you can leave. The ‘Eternal Promise’ drafts will be completed. Our business will be concluded.”

Ethan’s sharp gaze pinned her.

The air in the room became suffocating.

He swallowed hard, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

But he remained silent.

He turned abruptly and stormed out.

Lucas watched him leave, then looked back at Isabella.

Her face was ashen, her composure fragile.

A complex emotion flickered in his eyes.

Isabella closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath.

It was over.

She would not entangle herself with Ethan Blackwood any longer.

She had to move forward.

For herself.

For her child.

Ethan strode down the harshly lit hospital corridor.

His face was a mask of grim determination.

He pulled out his phone.

His thumb hovered over Benjamin’s contact.

He pressed call.