THE CEO'S ONE YEAR BRIDE

Chapter Six - Ethan's Hidden Cracks

Ethan's POV

I sat beside Granny, her fragile hand resting in mine, papery and cool despite the warmth of the room. Machines beeped steadily somewhere behind her bed, a rhythm I'd memorized over the past few days without meaning to. This was all my fault. I'd let Sarah into my life, and she hadn't just destroyed it — she'd tried to bring my entire family down with me. I would find her, even if it took me to the end of the earth. She would pay for every second of pain she'd caused.

I studied Granny's face, slack in sleep, and thought about how much frailer she'd looked since the stress began. She didn't deserve this. None of them did. My hands curled into fists in my lap.

Eventually a nurse came to check her vitals, and I stepped out to give them room. My mother was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, watching me with that particular expression she reserved for when she wanted to talk about something other than the obvious.

"So tell me," she said, falling into step beside me as we walked, "how about this new girl?"

I felt my mouth curve into a smile before I could stop it, just from thinking of my princess. "She's very beautiful. You're going to love her. She's one of the sweetest things on this earth," I said, staring up at the ceiling like the words themselves might float away if I looked anywhere else.

Mother smiled, and for a moment the tension in her shoulders eased.

We reached the elevator, and she checked her watch. "I have to go now. I'll call you when I get back."

"Drive safe," I said, and she nodded, pulling her hand from mine and disappearing around the corner toward the parking garage. I stood there a moment longer, watching the space where she'd been, thinking about how differently this conversation might have gone if she knew everything — if she knew what Sarah was truly capable of.

My phone rang before I could dwell on it further.

"Sir Ethan." Tiago's voice was clipped, urgent in a way that set every nerve in my body on alert. "Something's happened to Miss Hannah. We're rushing her to the hospital now — she collapsed."

My blood turned to ice in my veins. The hallway seemed to tilt slightly. "What do you mean, something happened to her?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't help it.

"Someone got into the house. They came at her from behind, put a bag over her head, tried to suffocate her." He paused, and I could hear him swallowing before he continued. "Dante was reviewing the surveillance feed at the time — we caught the person's face on camera, but by the time security reached the room, they'd already fled. We're still searching the grounds."

My jaw clenched so tight it ached. "Who is it? Give me a name."

Another pause, longer this time, as if he already knew what my reaction would be. "It's Miss Sarah Hearstone. Your ex."

Her name hit me like a fist to the chest. Of course. Of course it was her. Sarah — the woman I'd once thought I loved, the woman who had smiled at my face while plotting behind my back, who had let another man touch her while I trusted her completely. I had thought she'd disappeared for good after everything that happened. I had been wrong. She was back, and this time her target wasn't just me — it was everyone I loved, starting with the one person I couldn't survive losing.

"Bring her to my private hospital," I said, already moving toward the parking garage, my guards falling into step behind me without needing to be told. "I'm on my way. I'll be there before you arrive."

I hung up and slid into the back seat of my car, my driver already pulling out before the door fully closed. My knee bounced uncontrollably the entire ride, my mind cycling through every worst-case scenario I could imagine. What if they hadn't gotten to her in time? What if the damage was already done? I gripped the seat until my knuckles went white, forcing myself to breathe, to stay calm, to be the man Hannah needed when she woke up — because she *would* wake up. I refused to consider any other outcome.

By the time we arrived, the ambulance was already pulling into the private entrance. I didn't wait for the car to fully stop before I threw the door open and ran.

My heart shattered the moment I saw her — Hannah, pale and motionless on the stretcher, her lips faintly blue, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. I pushed past the paramedics and lifted her into my arms myself, ignoring their protests, needing to feel that she was still warm, still breathing, still here.

"Don't just stand there like fools — get a doctor and a stretcher, now!" I bellowed at my guards, who scrambled into motion. Diego sprinted ahead into the hospital and returned seconds later with a team of nurses wheeling out a proper gurney. I laid Hannah down gently, my hands trembling despite myself, and followed as they rushed her through the double doors, refusing to let go of her hand until the very last second.

"Open your eyes for me, Hannah. Please," I begged, my voice cracking in a way I never allowed it to in front of anyone. The doors swung shut in my face, separating us, and I stood there for a long moment with my palm pressed flat against the cold metal, willing it to open again.

I turned to face my guards, all of them standing at attention, none of them meeting my eyes. Rage and fear tangled together in my chest until I couldn't tell which one was speaking.

"How could you let this happen?" I shouted, my voice echoing down the corridor. "One job. I gave you one job — to keep her safe!"

"We're sorry, sir," Tiago said, head bowed. "It won't happen again."

I let out a hard breath through my nose and turned away before I said something I'd regret. Anger wouldn't fix this. Only finding Sarah would.

"Diego." My voice was low now, deadly calm. "I want you to find Sarah. I don't care what it takes or how long it takes — find her. Bring me anything you learn immediately."

He bowed and disappeared down the hall without a word.

I stood alone outside the emergency room, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, praying — actually praying, something I hadn't done in years — that Hannah would be okay. I wasn't sure I could survive if something happened to her. Not after everything. Not after finally believing I deserved something good.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and I looked up to see my mother rushing toward me, her coat still half-buttoned.

"What happened, son? I heard from the maids — tell me, how is she?"

"She's not good, Mother." Anger simmered beneath every word. "Sarah struck again."

My mother took my hand in both of hers, trying to steady me the way she used to when I was a boy. "It's okay, honey. She's going to be fine."

"Why does Sarah find joy in destroying this family?" she finally asked.

I exhaled slowly, unsure how to answer without unraveling completely. "She's already done enough damage."

"This never would have happened if you'd listened to me and let go of your reckless ways with women," she said, not unkindly, but the words still landed heavy. I didn't argue. I understood exactly where she was coming from. All of this — every ounce of it — traced back to choices I'd made. My pride. My arrogance. Look what it had cost me.

I sat with my elbows on my knees, glancing at the door every few seconds, willing the doctor to appear with good news. One hour passed. Then two. Finally, the door opened, and the doctor stepped out, exhaustion etched into every line of his face as he wiped sweat from his brow.

I was on my feet before he finished closing the door behind him. "How is my wife?"

"She's stable now. We managed to resuscitate her in time." Relief crashed over me so suddenly my knees nearly buckled. Beside me, my mother pressed a hand to her chest, visibly relieved despite everything she'd said moments earlier.

"When can I see her?"

"We're moving her to a recovery ward now. You can see her shortly after," he said, before excusing himself and disappearing down the hall.

The wait felt unbearable. I wanted to hold her hand, to feel the warmth returning to her skin, to hear her voice again — even a whisper of it. When the nurse finally led us to her room, my chest tightened at the sight of her. She looked so small against the pillows, so fragile, like the slightest movement might break her. When she saw me, she tried to sit up, but her strength failed her and she began to fall. I crossed the room in two strides and caught her before she hit the mattress.

"You came," she murmured, her eyes fluttering, barely staying open.

"I came for you, my love. I'll always be here for you. I was so scared," I said, holding her hand against my chest. She managed a weak smile, and for a moment, everything else in the world fell away.

Then I noticed my mother standing frozen in the doorway, as though something had physically stopped her from stepping further inside. Hannah and I both turned toward her, confused. Her face had gone pale, her eyes locked on Hannah with an expression I couldn't quite place — somewhere between shock and horror.

"Is this the girl you're married to?" she asked, finally turning to face me.

"Yes," I said, glancing between the two of them. My mother gasped, one hand flying to her mouth, the other pointing shakily at Hannah.

"This is the girl. The one whose photos were leaked online."

"So?" I asked, still not understanding the weight behind her words.

"So? That's all you have to say?" Her voice rose in disbelief.

I didn't have an answer ready, and my hesitation seemed to confirm something in her mind.

"Fine, then. If you insist on being with this girl, I am no longer your mother — I refuse to call a slut my daughter-in-law."

Hannah's face crumpled, tears spilling silently down her cheeks as she looked away. I hated it — hated seeing her cry, hated the way she folded into herself like she believed she deserved the insult. I wouldn't sit there and let it happen.

"You can say whatever you want about me," I said, my voice low and hard, "but you will not call my wife that."

"Isn't that what she is?" Mother shot back.

"Enough." The word cracked through the room, and she flinched, clearly not expecting it from me. I stood, rising to my full height, and for the first time in a long while, I didn't back down from her. "She is my wife. You will respect her, the same way I've always given you the respect you're owed as my mother."

"Over my dead body will I show that girl an ounce of respect," she snapped, her eyes blazing. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to this family by marrying her? What makes you so certain she won't cheat on you the same way she cheated on her ex-husband?"

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Because I was the reason she cheated. I was the other man, Mother. I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it."

She didn't find it amusing. Her expression only hardened further, disdain settling into every line of her face.

"Fine. Do whatever you want. But know this — whatever consequences follow are yours alone to carry. I never imagined a day would come when you'd start behaving just like your father." She turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame.

I walked back to Hannah, who was sobbing quietly into the blanket, her shoulders shaking. "It's okay, baby. You're safe now," I murmured, smoothing a hand over her hair, wishing I could absorb every ounce of her pain into myself instead.

A moment later, the door creaked open again. Tiago stepped inside, his expression unreadable.

"Sir," he said quietly. "I have news for you