Chapter 10
Chloe was startled by his tone and fell silent. But she glanced over at me.
There was a lot in that look. It wasn't all hostility anymore—there was something else there, something hard to describe.
Maybe she was wavering.
The dinner continued in an awkward atmosphere.
No one brought up divorce again. Instead, everyone started chatting about the weather, real estate prices, and which new restaurants were worth checking out.
Sophia kept smiling the whole time, like nothing had happened.
I kept smiling too.
The dinner wrapped up around ten. Uncle Edward was pretty drunk, so Alex had to help him out. Aunt Clara and Uncle Henry grabbed a cab. Chloe drove herself.
Sophia was waiting at the restaurant entrance for Ethan.
I was at the front desk, paying the bill.
Ethan walked over and took the bill from me. "Let me pay."
"I've already paid for it," I said.
He shot me a look, didn't say a word, and turned to head for the door.
I called out to him.
"Ethan," I called out.
He turned around.
"When are you going to be honest with me?" I asked.
He stood there, his back to the private room door. The light came from behind him, casting his face in shadow.
"I’m not hiding anything from you." he answered.
"Divorce. Aren't you already shopping for wedding rings?" I said.
He froze for just a moment—so quick most people would miss it, but I noticed it right away.
"Were you listening in on my call?" he asked.
"Your study door was left open," I replied.
He was silent for a few seconds.
"So you know now," he said, his voice going flat, like something inside him had finally broken and gone quiet."Lina, let’s lay it all out. I’m with Sophia. She was the one I wanted—before you.
"My mother didn’t approve of her family, so she pushed me into marrying you instead. I went along with it… and I’ve been paying for it for three years."
"You're a good wife. But I don't love you. I never have," he said.
He paused, waiting for my reaction—maybe expecting me to cry, or scream, or grab him by the collar.
I just sat there, doing nothing.
"Alright," I said. "So what's your plan?"
He clearly hadn't expected me to be so calm.
"You can have the house and the car. I just want one thing."
"What?"
"Sign a statement admitting it was your fault my mom lost her leg."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because that's just how it is. You didn't go with my mom, and when something happened to her, you couldn't be reached. Either way, you bear responsibility. Sign the statement, and we can end things peacefully—no one making trouble for the other."
"So you want me to take the blame for your mom losing her leg?"
"It's not about blaming you. It's just the truth."
I smiled.
"Fine. When are we signing?"
"The day after tomorrow. I've already got a lawyer. We'll do it in Mom's private ward, with everyone present. This needs to be settled."
"Fine. The day after tomorrow."
He turned and walked away. Sophia was waiting at the door, and she linked her arm with his. The two of them headed off toward the parking lot together.
I stood alone at the restaurant entrance.
The autumn wind swept by, carrying the sweet scent of flowers and the aroma of fried food.
I took out my phone and dialed a number.
"Hey, Lily. The day after tomorrow, come to St. Matthew Medical Center. Orthopedics, private room 1," I said.
"What's going on?" Lily asked.
"He wants me to sign in front of the whole family that I’m the one who caused his mom to lose her leg?" I said.
There was a brief pause on the line. Then Lily burst out.
"Has he lost his mind?" Lily snapped.
"Just come," I said. "You'll understand when you get here."
"Lina, what are you doing? Just tell me what you're planning," Lily demanded.
"Day after tomorrow. See you then," I said.
I hung up.
When I got home, Ethan wasn't there. He'd sent me a message saying he had an emergency surgery and wouldn't be back tonight.
An emergency surgery.
I checked the time—it was 10:40 PM. Then I opened that folder on my phone and watched all three videos again.
From start to finish.
First, the hotel lobby. Second, the restaurant—Ethan peeling shrimp for Sophia. Third, the hallway—him sending the call straight to voicemail. I watched them all, from start to finish.
I plugged in my phone and set it next to my pillow.
I closed my eyes.
The day after tomorrow.
Three o'clock in the afternoon, the day after tomorrow. Private ward 1 at St. Matthew Medical Center.
No one was missing—everyone who was supposed to be there showed up.
The day we agreed on had come.
I got to the hospital at 2:30 PM—half an hour early.
Ethan had moved his mom into the private ward a couple of days ago, saying the regular room was too cramped for all the relatives.
The room was over forty square meters, with a sofa, coffee table, TV, and its own bathroom. A fifty-inch LCD TV hung on the wall, and the remote was sitting on the nightstand.
Ethan’s mom rested against the headboard, her appearance far improved from a few days ago. The stitches on her amputated right leg had been removed, and the wound lay concealed under the blanket.
"Lina, you're here?" she said, her expression unreadable.
"Mom, I brought you some hand-ground lotus root powder," I said, setting the bag down on the cabinet.
"Just leave it there," she replied.
She didn't say anything else. She knew exactly what was going to happen today.