Chapter 5
Alex didn't return to work after the hospital but locked himself in his downtown apartment, closing the heavy curtains.
It was a large, cold gray space, like a heartless business plan. He once thought this silence helped him think, but now it just felt empty. Every corner seemed to carry a chill that seeped into his bones.
Emma's words about divorce were like a rusty nail driven into his head. Every thought pulled at his nerves, causing a sharp, throbbing pain.
He tried to bury himself in work. He opened his computer, but the dense reports only irritated him. He slammed the laptop shut and paced the room.
No, something was fundamentally wrong.
The issue wasn't just a few missed calls or Ethan's actions. A deeper, vague unease gripped him, refusing to let go.
Emma's numb calm felt like a total collapse after long accumulation, not just a reaction to her mother's death. What else was hidden?
The demolition money? They had fought over it, but Emma wasn't someone who held onto money. She wasn't that petty.
He remembered Emma lying in bed, saying "It's all in the past" with closed eyes.
He thought of Ryan's thorny gaze and the unidentifiable emotion in James Carter's eyes. Was it pity or something else?
Suspicions rose like bubbles from beneath the surface.
First, his mother-in-law's brain hemorrhage seemed sudden, but were there really no warning signs?
Emma mentioned her dizziness last month, wanting a full check-up in the city. He hadn't cared. Did Ethan purposely block her later?
Second, Emma's ruptured appendix. The doctor said she went into shock once. How did she survive that time alone in the apartment?
At what time and how did she reach the hospital? Who took her there? He had been too shocked to ask these vital details.
Third, Ethan. He had followed Alex for five years and knew every detail of his schedule. Why block Emma so ruthlessly?
The "Mrs. Sterling?" labels in the logs felt like a needle. Ethan was sharp; he should have warned Alex after multiple calls.
Unless he had already made a judgment or received some kind of hint from elsewhere.
Alex sat up and dialed Ryan Lane's number. After a long wait, Ryan answered amidst background noise.
"Alex?" Ryan's voice came through, sounding polite but distant.
"Ryan, are you at the hospital? How is Emma doing now?" Alex tried to sound calm.
"I just brought her food and am heading to my shop. Emma is much better. She can move a few steps alone now."
"That's good... Ryan, your mom mentioned dizziness before. Did she get it checked? Did Emma mention any other discomfort?"
There was a silence. "Didn't Emma tell you?" Ryan asked.
"I was busy with a project during those days," Alex replied, his face flushing with shame.
"Busy," Ryan repeated, his tone impossible to read. "Mom had hypertension for years. Emma wanted her checked at a big hospital.
"You always told her to 'handle it yourself.' A week before the incident, Mom called with severe headaches and blurred vision. Emma was desperate to go back and get her.
"But you insisted she handle a charity auction, saying it was your personal order. She couldn't leave."
Alex's chest tightened. He remembered the charity auction for city relations. He had insisted Emma handle it for her image and attention to detail.
"I... I didn't see any calls," Alex said, his throat feeling dry.
"Right, you didn't see them," Ryan said coldly. "Emma tried your cell, but it was off. She called the office, and your assistant answered.
"Emma explained Mom's condition, but your assistant said you were busy with a merger. He told her to 'overcome it' for the auction."
Alex's knuckles turned white. The merger was a priority, but it wasn't irreplaceable. Ethan had used his "importance" to block Emma's urgency.
"What happened next?" Alex heard himself ask.
"Next?" Ryan laughed raspy. "Emma had no choice but to ask a friend to take Mom to the hospital. The doctor said her blood pressure was too high and ordered rest.
"Emma felt relieved, hoping to finish the auction before fetching her. But Mom collapsed the next day—brain hemorrhage. Emma rushed back, got a fever, finished the funeral, then collapsed herself. The doctor said she barely survived."
Ryan's words were like a blunt knife. This wasn't a sudden disaster, but a chain of ignored signals and pleas treated as nuisances. Alex was the one who prioritized 'urgent business,' and Ethan was just his most dedicated enforcer.
"Emma... didn't tell me all this," Alex whispered.
"Tell you?" Ryan shouted. "Alex, Emma didn't stay silent. You just found everything she said annoying! You saw home as a burden, Mom's illness a hassle, and Emma's worries a waste of time!
"Ethan saw right through you. That's why he blocked her calls! What's the use of asking now? Can Mom come back? When Emma signed those papers alone on the operating table, could you feel her pain?"
The line went dead, leaving a piercing busy tone echoing in his ear.
Alex sank into the sofa as if drenched in ice water. The first piece of the puzzle was laid out before him.
Ethan didn't just block calls during the crisis. He used "work first" to suppress Emma's pleas much earlier.
It was a choice of stance, knowing Alex would always take that side.
Once suspicion took root, thoughts grew like wild vines.
He recalled more scenes. Ethan had always treated Emma with a subtle, inconspicuous contempt.
Once Emma waited for him at the office. Ethan brought coffee only for Alex and just gave Emma a brief nod.
He thought it was just professionalism then, but now it felt like a subconscious division: who was the center and who was merely an accessory.
About six months ago, Emma wanted to use some savings for an art studio. She was an art major and always had that dream.
He was stressed about a project and snapped, "The money has other uses. Stop messing around." She never mentioned it again.
Looking back, did she ask Ethan about the funds? Did Ethan use "Mr. Sterling's overall strategy" as an excuse to shut her out?
He had to confirm. He couldn't trust words; he needed the data to speak for itself.
Alex logged into the network with high-level access. He pulled Ethan's email logs from the past year, filtering for keywords like "Home," "Mrs. Sterling," and "Private."