Chapter 7
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Grace said, waving her hand as she continued chatting with Sophia.
I turned and walked out of the room.
Out in the hallway, I ran into John Carter.
"Lina, Grace is looking much better today. We can start her rehab assessment next week," he said.
"Thanks, Dr. Carter," I replied.
John Carter hesitated for a moment, then leaned in a little closer. "Lina, there's something I'm not sure I should tell you."
"Go ahead."
"Last Tuesday—the night Grace had her accident—the ER tried calling Ethan. He didn't miss the call. He declined it. There's a record of it. And between seven and nine that night, his work account accessed the hospital network, ran a search, and then logged off."
"So that means his phone was on during that time."
"Yeah."
I looked at John Carter. "How do you know all this?"
John Carter avoided my gaze. "I've got a friend in the IT department. Lina, I just think something's off here. Ethan's leave request said he was at a 'state-level medical symposium,' but I called the state medical association, and there wasn't a single orthopedics symposium scheduled for those three days."
"Dr. Carter," I called out.
"Yes?" he replied.
"Please don't tell anyone about this."
John Carter nodded and hurried off.
I stood in the hallway, sunlight pouring in from the window. Laughter from Sophia and Grace drifted out of the room.
I reached into my pocket and felt the note from Peter Wilson. My fingers brushed over my phone too.
Almost there… I just needed a little more.
Ethan first brought up divorce on the tenth day after Grace's accident.
He didn't say it to my face.
That day, I stopped by the house to grab some clean clothes and heard Ethan talking in the study. The door was ajar, and he was on the phone, speaking in a low voice.
"Sophia, just be patient. I'm handling it. Once things calm down with my mom, I'll talk to Lina about the divorce. She can keep the house, the cars—whatever she wants. I don't care about any of it. I just want out."
He paused for a moment.
"Yeah, I know you’ve put up with so much for me. You’ve been waiting all these years, and that’s on me. I shouldn’t have listened to my mom and married Lina back then. Trust me, I won’t make you wait this time," Ethan said softly.
There was another pause.
"Okay. This weekend, I'll take you ring shopping. Whatever style you want, it's yours," he added.
I stood at the study door, clutching Grace's clean clothes in my hand.
The door wasn't fully closed. Through the crack, I could see Ethan leaning back in his chair, phone pressed to his ear, his other hand absently spinning a pen on the desk.
His tone was something I'd never heard from him before—soft, careful, almost fawning.
In three years of marriage, I'd never heard him speak to me with that kind of patience. With me, it was always orders, requests, or criticism. "Lina, make an appointment for my mom." "Lina, pick up groceries." "Lina, stop making such a big deal out of everything."
So he could be gentle.
He just never bothered to be gentle with me.
I took two careful steps back, making sure not to make a single sound.
Back in the bedroom, I stuffed the clothes into a bag, grabbed my phone, and sent Lily a message.
[He's planning to divorce me.]
Lily pinged me right away: [Got all the evidence?]
[Just one thing left.]
[What?] Lily asked.
[I need him to say out loud that he spent those three days with Sophia.]
Lily sent me a voice message, but I didn't play it—afraid Ethan might overhear from the next room.
I put my phone on silent, grabbed the bag, and stepped out.
Passing by the study, Ethan had already hung up. He opened the door, saw me, and his expression changed in a flash.
"When did you get back?" he asked.
"Just now. Just picking up some clean clothes for Mom," I said, holding up the bag.
"Oh," he said, nodding. He looked me over for a couple seconds, checking if I'd heard anything, then turned back and sat down.
"Lina," he called out as I was about to step out the door.
"Yes?"
"This weekend, I want to get the whole family together for dinner. Mom’s been in the hospital for days, and everyone’s been coming and going. We should gather everyone and thank them," he said.
"Alright."
"You take care of it. Just book the usual place—Moonstone Bistro. Get a big private room," he added.
"Alright."
I slipped on my shoes and headed out.
In the elevator, I looked at my phone and saw a new text notification. It was from an unknown number, just a single line.
"Lina, I've got what you wanted. See you tomorrow."