Episode 5
795 Words
Ethan Carter couldn't find Jason anywhere.
That night at Platinum, an exclusive members-only club, a black Hummer pulled up to the entrance.
The driver's door swung open, and a tall, muscular man stepped out.
He exuded raw magnetism—the epitome of masculine appeal. Dressed in a black t-shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots, his cropped black hair framed chiseled features and bronzed skin. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he strode toward the entrance.
With effortless confidence, he flicked his cigarette aside, whistled sharply, and tossed his keys into the air. They landed perfectly in the waiting valet's hand.
"Good evening, Mr. Carter," the valet said with a respectful bow.
The imposing figure disappeared into the club's shadowy interior.
Ethan Carter—born into one of New York's four elite families and Jason's childhood friend—commanded respect wherever he went. After graduating from the police academy, he'd joined the FBI and now oversaw a significant portion of Manhattan's law enforcement operations.
Inside the eighth-floor VIP suite, Ethan kicked the door open and immediately winced at the overwhelming stench of alcohol.
"Jason, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"Mr. Carter," Mike said, relief washing over his face. "Thank God you're here. He's been drinking for three days straight."
Ethan turned toward the sofa in disbelief. There sat Jason, eyes closed, clutching a bottle of red wine. The normally impeccable man had deteriorated into a disheveled drunk, sprawled lifelessly across the cushions.
"You're letting him kill himself?" Ethan asked Mike, his voice sharp with disapproval.
Jason had a mild alcohol allergy that triggered severe stomach pain—he'd barely touched alcohol for years.
"I couldn't stop him," Mike sighed. "He's devastated about not finding Mrs. Reynolds."
Ethan laughed bitterly. "Doesn't appreciate what he has until it's gone. Now he's playing the heartbroken lover? For whose benefit?"
Mike remained silent but gave Ethan a subtle thumbs-up of agreement.
Suddenly, Jason's bloodshot eyes snapped open, his cold gaze cutting across the room.
Mike froze, quickly hiding his gesture behind his back.
Without warning, Jason lurched forward. The wine bottle crashed to the floor, shattering as he doubled over in violent retching—
---
At midnight, the emergency room doors opened, and the doctor emerged.
"How is he?" Mike asked anxiously.
"Acute gastric hemorrhage. Fortunately, he arrived just in time. He's stable now, but he'll need to stay for a week of treatment."
"Of course," Mike nodded quickly. "I'll take care of all the paperwork right away."
While Mike followed a nurse to handle the admission forms, Ethan stayed with Jason in the VIP hospital room. After the nurse finished settling Jason in and left, Mike returned.
"Mr. Carter," he acknowledged.
Ethan nodded. "Everything taken care of?"
"Yes, all done." Mike checked his watch. "It's late, Mr. Carter. I can watch over Jason—you should get some rest."
"Alright." Ethan headed toward the door but paused. "When he wakes up, tell him I'll use all my connections to find her. And tell him to stop this self-destructive nonsense."
"I'll relay your exact words. Thank you, Mr. Carter."
Ethan waved dismissively and left.
---
Jason was trapped in a terrifying nightmare.
Darkness surrounded him completely—no sound, no people—just an endless void as he stumbled forward.
Suddenly, a tombstone appeared before him.
He stopped, heart pounding as a sense of dread overwhelmed him. He tried to back away, desperate to escape.
But the black-and-white photograph on the tombstone grew larger. Emily smiled from within the frame.
The stark contrast between black and white pierced through him like a physical pain.
"Emily!"
Jason's eyes flew open, squinting against the harsh hospital lights.
"Jason."
He turned to see Mike standing beside the bed and exhaled with relief.
It was just a dream.
"Are you alright?" Mike asked.
Jason took a moment to gather himself, surveying his surroundings.
"What happened?"
"Acute gastric hemorrhage from excessive drinking," Mike explained. "We got you here just in time."
Jason remained silent.
"Mr. Carter said he'll use his connections to find Mrs. Reynolds."
Jason acknowledged with a quiet murmur.
His thoughts raced. Emily was still sick. Where had she been these past two weeks? Was she taking care of herself?
He couldn't bear to consider the alternatives.
Seeing Jason's distant expression, Mike tried to reassure him: "Jason, Mr. Carter has extensive contacts. I'm confident he'll locate Mrs. Reynolds soon."
"Mm." Jason stared at the ceiling, still haunted by the nightmare.
Perhaps because the dream had felt so terrifyingly real, he now found himself hoping this was all just one of Emily's schemes.
He would rather this be her elaborate deception than the alternative—at least then he'd have the chance to demand she repay what she owed him...
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