Ethan’s restraint shattered.

He drove his boot into Caleb’s chest with savage force. The sickening thud reverberated off the cold walls.

“Answer me!”

Caleb folded, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. He coughed, blood speckling the floor. His face turned ashen.

“I’d rather die,” he rasped, voice shredded. His eyes burned into Ethan’s, brimming with venomous hate.

“You’ll never be loved,” Caleb spat, each word a poisoned blade. “Just like me.”

The curse struck a hidden nerve deep within Ethan. A frown creased his brow. Irritation and something darker churned beneath his icy composure.

“What is your grudge against me?” Ethan’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

Caleb’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. He hissed two words, dripping with pure loathing. “Blackwood Enterprises.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“Years ago,” Caleb continued, voice thick with decades of resentment, “Blackwood Enterprises was embroiled in a corporate war.”

“It went bankrupt.” Caleb’s words were ragged, forced through clenched teeth, saturated with undiluted hatred. “My parents couldn’t take the pressure. They jumped. All of it—every bit of this misery—is thanks to you, Ethan Blackwood.”

Caleb had buried his true identity, letting his rage fester and rot. Now, his moment of vengeance had arrived.

“And your wife… I already killed her.” His laugh was a raw, hellish sound.

“Serves you right!” he venomously declared, each word laced with a cruel, cutting satisfaction.

The world dropped out from under Ethan. Caleb’s words hit him like a physical blow, echoing inside his skull.

His pupils constricted. An icy wave of pure terror seized his chest, relentless and suffocating.

Acting on instinct, Ethan lunged. He seized Caleb by the collar, his grip brutal, knuckles white with rage.

“What did you say?” Ethan’s voice shook with disbelief and fury. “Isabella… is she… truly gone?” It was a raw whisper, each word like glass shards in his throat.

Caleb unleashed a wild, guttural laugh. The sound twisted through the air. His eyes gleamed with wicked triumph, savoring Ethan’s agony like a prized trophy. That laughter snapped the last fragile thread of Ethan’s control.

Ethan’s fist shot out, connecting with Caleb’s face with a bone-crunching impact.

A sickening crack echoed. Caleb slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Ethan’s hand fell away, trembling. His knees gave out. He sank onto the cold floor. His eyes stared vacantly, hollow and glassy, as if his soul had been violently ripped away.

Meanwhile, Sophia’s days in the hospital blurred into a slow, agonizing torture. She wore the mask of a fragile patient, but beneath it, anxiety gnawed at her like a relentless parasite. The fear of Caleb being caught—of him exposing everything—tightened around her neck like a noose. It was suffocating. Finally, she broke.

“Doctor,” she said, her voice heavy with feigned exhaustion, “I need to be discharged.”