Chapter 2
Her voice faded into a whisper.
He heard the unspoken accusation: Were you here for your wife, or to handle another "domestic item"?
Alex sat frozen, his nervous system paralyzed. He had known nothing.
His assistant filtered out every "trivial distraction" while Alex tacitly allowed this "efficiency." He thought he was building an industry-changing company, unaware that his stable foundation was already collapsing through silent cracks.
Darkness filled the room as the heart monitor hammered away at the silence.
Looking at Emma's pale face, Alex realized for the first time that some things never come back.
This cold war over renovation budgets and parental interference now faced today's crushing truth. Like a black hole, it was swallowing everything he had ever believed in, bit by bit.
This was his life—the success story—at this moment, the final page was turning to reveal something cold, hollow, and utterly devastating.
Alex sat in the ward all night.
The plastic chair made his tailbone numb, but Alex was too drained to even move.
Emma eventually fell asleep, likely due to the painkillers or sheer physical exhaustion. Her breathing was so faint it was nearly silent.
He checked the monitor's green line constantly for movement. The hospital wasn't quiet at night; distant coughing, footsteps, and rolling carts echoed nearby.
The sounds felt muffled, like they were behind thick glass, only making the hospital room feel even more empty and hollow.
His mind was a mess, flickering between James' cold face, Ethan's constant "Yes, Mr. Sterling," and Emma's mother's first visit to Rheinsville years ago.
She'd spent hours in the kitchen making ribs that tasted like home, whispering, "Alex, try these. Don't force yourself if you don't like them."
Back then, her cautious flattery felt like a burden. Recalling it now, the memory felt like a glaring, painful needle in his heart.
Near dawn, Emma woke. She didn't open her eyes, but her brow furrowed as she let out a soft, sharp inhale from the pain.
Alex stood up immediately, leaning in to whisper, "Does it hurt badly? Do you want me to call a nurse for you?"
Emma opened her eyes, looked at him, and shook her head, reaching for the call button herself. Her hand shook violently as she finally signaled the nurse.
Throughout the process, Emma never looked at Alex or spoke to him. He stood there like a piece of redundant, useless furniture.
Once the nurse left, they were alone again as the gray, pale light of dawn began to seep through the hospital window.
"About the funeral," Alex rasped, his voice dry. "The ashes are at the funeral home. I'll arrange the cemetery and a dinner for the relatives."
Emma stared at the ceiling. "No," she said after a long silence. "Mom wanted her ashes scattered in the river behind our old house.
"There's no need to thank those relatives. They said terrible things during the demolition. Ryan has already taken care of everything anyway."
Ryan was her brother, Ryan Lane. Alex remembered him as a quiet, dull young man who ran a small shop in Stonebridge.
Suddenly, Alex realized that his ignored brother-in-law had shouldered all the burdens that he, the son-in-law, should have handled himself.
"Is there... anything Ryan needs? Money? Or any other kind of help I can provide for him?" Alex asked tentatively.
"Alex," Emma interrupted, finally looking at him. "Mom is gone. The funeral is over. I just want to recover. Let's just say it's over."
Her tone was flat, as if she were talking about the weather, but Alex could hear the hard, cold barrier between them.
She was pushing him out completely, treating him like a total stranger and refusing to give him any chance to make things right.
Alex's chest tightened with irritation and pain. "What do you mean it's over?" his voice hardened. "I'm your husband. She was my mother, legally, too.
"I was kept in the dark. It was Ethan's fault, and I'll deal with him. But I'm here now. I won't run from my responsibilities."
Emma looked at him, a trace of irony flickering across her lips before fading back into her sheer, soul-crushing exhaustion.
"How will you handle Ethan? Fire him? Just because he blocked those 'non-urgent' distractions so you could focus on your big projects?
"Alex, you know that without your permission, Ethan wouldn't dare block my calls. We all know exactly what you consider important, don't we?"
Alex was speechless. He wanted to deny it, but his throat felt clogged. He knew Emma was right about his priorities over the years.
Efficiency and projects always came first. Family was a distraction. Ethan had simply executed the ranking Alex had subconsciously created.
"I'll talk to him," Alex finally squeezed out, his words sounding dry and pathetic in the quiet hospital ward.
"Whatever," Emma said, looking back out the window and effectively ending the conversation.
That morning, James checked the wound. The infection was subsiding, but Emma needed antibiotics and one week of observation. He ignored Alex completely.
While Emma rested, Alex stepped out and called Ethan at the end of the long, sterile hospital corridor.
Ethan picked up immediately. "Morning, Mr. Sterling. You have a 10 AM call with Stone Capital. I've emailed the materials. Then a 2 PM review..."
"Ethan," Alex interrupted, his voice trembling. "My wife is in the hospital and her mother died. Why the hell didn't you tell me any of this?"
There were two seconds of silence. Then Ethan's voice came back, steady and perfectly balanced with fake guilt. "Mr. Sterling, I did mention her hospitalization.
"I told you she was at Central General for a stomach issue. You were in a meeting and just replied with an 'I know.'
"As for her mother, I didn't know. She didn't contact me. Perhaps she called your cell? It was off during the B-round negotiations."
Ethan was airtight, shifting blame while reminding Alex how busy he'd been. Alex gripped his phone until his knuckles turned white with rage.
Emma said she called the office thrice, but Ethan blocked her. Now Ethan was denying everything, and Alex knew his phone had indeed been off.
"She said she called the office looking for you," Alex said, his teeth gritted in frustration.
"Mr. Sterling," Ethan sounded aggrieved. "We get so many calls every day—media, sales, business, and people claiming to be friends or relatives.
"My job is to filter the unimportant ones. If she called but didn't say it was an emergency, I apologize. That was my mistake."