Ignoring his condition, Ethan stormed out of the hospital, his mind consumed by a single thought—find Claire.
The doctors had warned he needed at least a month of bed rest. The gunshot wound in his left shoulder hadn't healed, his ribs were still fractured, and fluid remained in his lungs.
But when the nurse pushed the door open with his medication, all she found was an empty bed—and the IV line torn loose, dangling to the floor.
Every step tore at his wounds, pain ripping through him as cold sweat soaked his hospital gown. He didn't care.
Claire was gone.
The woman he had dragged back from Adrian's gunpoint with his life on the line. The one he had clung to even in unconsciousness. She had left again.
He didn't care anymore whether she had betrayed him. Didn't care who she had married five years ago. None of it mattered. None of it.
She had given him her blood. Stayed with him while he clawed his way back from hell. That was enough.
He knew she still loved him. That was enough.
Ethan had clawed his way up from nothing to where he stood now—for one reason only. To take Claire back.
To love her, and be loved by her—that had always been his only wish.
A black Mercedes-Maybach screeched to a halt at the hospital entrance.
He collapsed into the back seat, his voice rough like it had been scraped raw. "Take me to the company. Now."
The driver caught sight of his bloodless face and the bandages seeping through in the rearview mirror, and slammed the accelerator, speeding toward Quinn Group.
Quinn Group Headquarters. Executive Floor.
The elevator chimed open—and everyone froze.
Ethan stepped out, bracing himself against the wall. His suit jacket barely concealed the hospital gown beneath, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, like a cornered beast on the brink, radiating a suffocating mix of rage and desperation.
"Where's Claire?" He seized the receptionist's wrist, his grip so tight she cried out in pain. "Where is she?"
The entire lobby fell into dead silence.
The HR director stepped forward, trembling. "M-Mr. Quinn… Ms. Sterling… She submitted an overseas assignment request this morning. She's… already left."
"Left?" Ethan's pupils shrank. "Where?"
"Doplaytho… three-year term. It was voluntary. All procedures were followed," the director said, voice shaking. "As for the exact country… it wasn't filed. We don't know."
"You don't know?" Ethan flipped the reception desk in one violent motion.
Documents, coffee cups, and monitors crashed to the floor in a chaotic mess.
"What do I pay you people for? You can't even keep track of one person?"
Everyone recoiled in fear. No one dared speak.
He staggered into the elevator and hit the button for the underground garage.
His phone buzzed violently on the way down—a screenshot from his assistant.
It was a voluntary overseas assignment application—filed under Claire's name.
It was signed two hours ago.
Right when he had just been wheeled out of surgery, tubes still running through his body.
He stared at the line, his fingers trembling so badly he could barely hold the phone.
While his life hung in the balance, she signed the papers to leave.
Then why save him with her blood? Why save him… only to disappear without a word?
In the underground parking garage, cold air swept through the space.
Ethan leaned against the car door, but it wasn't enough. His strength gave out, and he dropped to one knee.
Pain exploded from his injured shoulder, radiating through every limb, every nerve. It made it hard to breathe.
But worse than the physical agony was the emptiness in his chest—a hollow ruin where something once lived.
His mind drifted back to three months ago, to the moment he learned Claire had returned.
God knew how happy he had been. Five years of resentment had seemed to dissolve in an instant.
She had just come back then, looking worn and exhausted.
He had done everything to keep her at the company—shutting down the board's objections, creating a secretary position just for her, keeping track of her every move. All of it, just to keep her by his side.
He gave her the best projects, made sure she had every chance to prove herself. When investors gave her trouble, he stood behind her without hesitation.
At the annual gala, she had been drugged and taken away. The moment he saw it, his breath had nearly stopped—he was the one who burst into the private room and pulled her out.
When Adrian set up her kidnapping, Ethan went in alone. Even when he was badly injured, he never let her go.
He had believed that if he was strong enough—if he kept her close, gave her everything, treated her better than anyone else ever could—then maybe she would stay. He would have torn out his own heart just to show her how real it was.
And in the end, she still left.
This time, all she left behind was a cold, impersonal application form.
