The Devil’s Bride

Chapter 13: The Declining Patriarch

Ethan’s POV

The private VIP hospital room smelled heavily of sterile antiseptic, expensive cologne, and impending death.

My father lay in the center of the oversized hospital bed, looking smaller and more fragile than I’d ever seen him in my entire life. Tubes snaked aggressively across his chest, and monitoring machines beeped in a steady, maddening rhythm. The suite itself was luxurious—a private wing, original oil paintings on the walls, a panoramic view of the glittering city skyline—but absolutely none of it could mask how frail Richard Vance had become.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, my arms tightly crossed as I stared out at the city lights below.

“You look like s**t,” I said flatly, not breaking my gaze from the window.

Father let out a weak, raspy chuckle that quickly devolved into a wet cough. “Always so charming, Ethan.”

I finally turned to face his bed. “The specialists say your heart is failing significantly faster than expected. You should be resting instead of summoning me here in the dead of night.”

“I didn’t summon you here to talk about my vital signs.” His eyes—still remarkably sharp despite his body’s betrayal—fixed directly on me. “I summoned you to talk about Moore.”

The mention of her name sent an immediate, sharp spike of irritation straight through my chest.

“What about her?”

Father smiled faintly, a distant look in his eyes. “I had my security people check on her. She’s been quiet. Obedient. And her stepmother’s surgery was a complete success, her siblings are settled into better private schools and better apartment .” He paused, studying my unreadable expression. “And yet… you still treat her like absolute garbage.”

I walked closer to the edge of his bed, my jaw clenching tightly. “She is a temporary arrangement, old man. Just a contract. You forced this marriage on me to scrub the media mud off my public image. Don’t pretend this was anything more than contract marriage.”

“She’s a good girl, Ethan.” His voice grew softer, almost wistful. “Pure. Genuinely kind. She sat right here in that chair for two hours last week while you were too busy in executive meetings. She held my hand and told me stories about her years in the ballet. She has a remarkably gentle soul.”

Something ugly, dark, and territorial twisted violently in my chest.

Moore had visited him? She was playing the sweet, comforting angel to my father while I was handling an empire?

The mental image of her smiling softly at Connor in my kitchen flashed behind my eyes, immediately overlapping with this new revelation. It infuriated me. She was mine alone . No one else had the right to her warmth or her presence.

“You’re getting pathetic and sentimental in your old age,” I said, my voice dripping with pure ice. “She’s a purchased wife. Nothing more.”

Father’s eyes instantly hardened, a flash of his old, ruthless self surfacing. “That girl has more genuine integrity in her little finger than you have in your entire life.She sacrificed her entire life for her family. She’s loyal. She could actually make you a better man if you’d let her.”

I let out a low, bitter laugh that echoed off the sterile walls. “Make me better? I don't need to be better, Father. I need total control. The Emerald City project is moving forward, the board is terrified of me, and the Vance name is stronger than ever. That is the only thing that matters.”

He reached out a trembling, pale hand and gripped my wrist with a surprising, desperate burst of strength.

“Listen to me, Ethan. I’m dying. When I am gone, you’ll inherit every single piece of this empire. But if you keep treating that girl like a disposable object, you’ll end up with nothing that matters.” His voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “She looks at you with a flicker of hope sometimes. Don’t kill that. Don’t become the exact monster I raised you to be.”

I roughly pulled my wrist free from his grasp, a chaotic mix of anger and an uncomfortable, unfamiliar pressure churning in my throat.

“I am exactly what you raised me to be.”

I turned on my heel and walked toward the heavy oak door.

“Ethan,” he called out weakly behind me.

I paused at the threshold, keeping my back turned to him.

“Bring Moore to see me again soon. Before it’s too late.”

I walked out into the corridor without giving him an answer.

Moore’s POV

I was still deeply sore the next morning.

Every single little movement of my body served as a painful reminder of Ethan’s brutal punishment from the night before—the deep bruises marking my hips, the ache between my thighs, the absolute exhaustion in my bones. I moved with extreme caution around the master bathroom, brushing my teeth while staring blankly at my reflection.

The girl looking back at me in the glass looked completely haunted.

Suzie entered the suite without knocking like always, her expression cold. “Mr. Vance wants you dressed and ready in exactly thirty minutes. You’re going to visit his father at the hospital.”

My heart skipped a beat. A tiny, fragile ray of hope pierced through my dread. Mr. Vance had always been incredibly kind to me during the few brief moments we’d interacted. He was the only person in this gilded nightmare who treated me like a living human being instead of a piece of bought property.

I dressed quickly in a modest, elegant cream blouse and a dark pencil skirt that Suzie had laid out for me.

The ride to the medical center was agonizingly silent. Ethan sat right beside me in the leather back seat of the Rolls-Royce, his thumb scrolling seamlessly through corporate emails on his phone, his handsome face completely unreadable and stone-cold.

The moment we stepped into the private VIP hospital room, Mr. Vance’s pale face lit up with a genuine warmth.

“Moore,” he said softly, reaching his frail hand out across the white sheets. “Come here, dear.”

I walked over immediately, carefully taking his hand in mine. His skin felt paper-thin and weak, but his grip was incredibly gentle. “How are you feeling today, sir?”

“Significantly better now that you’re here.” He smiled kindly, his eyes shifting briefly to inspect Ethan before returning to me. “You look beautiful, Moore. That color suits you wonderfully.”

I blushed slightly, the genuine compliment catching me off guard. “Thank you.”

For the next twenty minutes, Mr. Vance and I talked about my mother’s medical recovery, about my younger siblings, and whether I was eating properly in the mansion. He listened to my answers like he actually cared about the details of my life. For the first time in weeks, the suffocating weight in my chest lifted. I felt seen.

Ethan stood dead silent by the window the entire time, his towering frame completely rigid as his dark eyes burned into the side of my face.

When it was finally time for us to leave, Mr. Vance squeezed my hand one last time.

“You’re a good girl, Moore. Don’t let the cruelty of this world harden your beautiful spirit.”

Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I nodded, choking back a sob. “I won’t, sir. I promise.”

The second the car door clicked shut for the ride back to the estate, the atmosphere became utterly suffocating. Ethan remained dangerously quiet for several blocks, the tension vibrating off his tailored suit.

Then, his voice cut through the dark interior, low and venomous.

“You thoroughly enjoyed that, didn’t you? Playing the perfect, innocent daughter-in-law. Manipulating my dying father into loving you while you smile at my servants behind my back.”

I kept my eyes glued to my lap, my hands clenching my skirt. “He was just being kind, Ethan…”

Ethan’s hand shot out like a viper, his fingers gripping my thigh with a bruising, punishing force that made me gasp. “Kindness is a luxury you haven’t earned in this house, Moore.You exist solely for my pleasure. Not my dad’s .Not Connor’s. Mine”

The rest of the drive was spent in a paralyzing, terrifying silence.

The moment we crossed the threshold of the mansion, Ethan dragged me straight upstairs by my wrist and violently reminded me—yet again—exactly who owned my body, my breath, and my soul.

But deep in the darkest corners of my chest, a terrifying, realistic thought had officially taken root.

Mr. Vance was dying.

And the second he was gone… what was left to stop Ethan from becoming an even worse monster?