Isabella’s hand closed around the doorknob.

She twisted it hard.

The lock gave way with a faint click.

An icy gust swept out, making her shudder.

But she stepped inside without pause.

What she saw froze her in place.

Ethan was lying motionless in the bathtub.

His entire body was submerged under freezing water.

The tub was filled to the edge.

Cold radiated from the surface.

His face was ghostly pale.

His lips had turned blue.

Light tremors shook his frame.

His eyes were closed.

He looked completely unconscious.

“Ethan!”

Isabella’s shock turned to action.

She plunged into the icy water.

She hauled him upward with all her strength.

“Ethan, wake up! Please!”

Her voice cracked, thick with tears.

She slapped his cheek repeatedly, desperate to rouse him.

He didn’t respond.

Panic seized her.

She dragged him out of the tub, straining.

She snatched a towel and wrapped it around him.

Staggering, she pulled him out of the bathroom.

“Help! Somebody, help!”

Her cry pierced the quiet villa.

Henry appeared at the doorway, his face shocked.

“What… what’s going on?” he stammered.

“Don’t just stand there—call the doctor! Now!”

Her voice was raw with urgency.

Henry snapped out of his daze.

“Right away, Mrs. Blackwood.”

He turned and rushed off.

Isabella sat beside the bed, watching Ethan.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She held his hand.

It was ice cold.

“Stay with me, Ethan. You’ll be okay,” she whispered, trembling.

The family doctor entered briskly.

He wore a white coat and mask.

He carried a medical kit.

Henry followed, concern etched on his face.

A few servants hovered by the door.

The sterile scent of disinfectant hung in the air.

Isabella clung to Ethan’s hand.

Her face was pale.

Her lips quivered.

But her gaze was steady.

“Doctor, please… he needs help. He just—” Her voice broke.

She forced herself to explain what happened.

The doctor set down his kit.

He moved to the bed and checked Ethan’s vitals.

He lifted Ethan’s eyelids and shone a light.

He listened to his heart and breathing with a stethoscope.

Time stretched.

Each second felt like an eternity.

Isabella’s heart lodged in her throat.

Her hands were cold and sweaty.

She watched the doctor, afraid to blink.

Finally, the doctor set aside the stethoscope.

He looked at her gravely.

“Mr. Blackwood’s condition is critical. He appears to have suffered severe neural shock due to extreme stimulation. That’s why he’s unconscious.”