Chapter Four
1262 Words
Ethan’s POV:
“Mr. Blackwood?”
I barely heard the voice calling me. My mind had drifted again, back to her.
Natalie.
God, how could I not think of her? Even after all these years, she still haunted me.
She used to sit beside me in meetings like that, taking notes with a wide smile.
She was my secretary—until she became my wife. But life had a way of proving my father and grandfather right: kindness was a weakness. And losing her—losing us—was all the proof I needed.
I clenched my jaw, pushing away the memories. The past had no place here.
Murmurs swept through the room as my silence stretched too long. My secretary, Samuel, leaned toward me and whispered the question I had missed.
I blinked, shaking my head slightly to clear my thoughts. Straightening, I adjusted my cufflinks and finally spoke. “The question was regarding our investments in the European sector, correct?” I asked.
The CFO nodded. “Yes, sir." There have been fluctuations in the market due to political instability. Our stake in Lark Industries—”
“Hold.” I interrupted, fingers tapping against the polished table. “Lark Industries thrives on instability. It’s what makes them lucrative. Their stocks will plummet initially, but they’ll rebound fast, giving us a higher return in the long run.”
“But, sir, if the situation worsens, we could be looking at major losses.”
I exhaled sharply, my patience thinning. “We aren’t in this business to play it safe. If we let fear dictate our investments, we may as well hand our competitors the advantage. Increase our stake by five percent. When the rebound hits, we’ll be the ones profiting.”
A few executives exchanged glances, but no one dared argue. They knew better.
Samuel cleared his throat. “Next, there’s a proposal to acquire Ashford Finance. They’ve been struggling, and their board is willing to negotiate a merger.”
“Ashford is dead weight,” I said immediately. They lack innovation, and their debt is suffocating. Acquiring them would be a liability.”
“Yes, but—”
“Next.” I cut him off, impatiently.
Samuel nodded, flipping to the next item on the agenda. “There’s also the matter of the tech division’s expansion into artificial intelligence—”
My phone vibrated against the table. I barely glanced at it before tapping the volume button to silence it.
“Continue,” I ordered.
Samuel nodded, resuming his report. But the phone buzzed again.
I ignored it.
Then again.
And again.
Annoyed, I finally glanced at the screen.
Julian?
I shot up a hand, silencing the room instantly. Without another word, I pressed the answer button and brought the phone to my ear.
“Are you at the airport?” I asked.
“I just stepped off of the plane, “he replied, and like I said, you don't have to pick me up. I will hail a cab.”
I scoffed. “I am on my way.” I ended the call before he could say anything else.
“Meeting adjourned,” I said, already pushing back my chair. Without waiting for a response, I stepped out of the room, ignoring the stunned faces behind me.
I reached the elevator, my fingers tapping impatiently against my thigh as I waited. The moment the doors slid open, I stepped inside, jabbing the lobby button.
The second the doors opened, I ran to my car. The biometric scanner recognized my fingerprint and opened the door instantly. Sliding in, I pressed the ignition button, and the engine roared to life.
Then, I drove out.
The drive was smooth, my hands were firm on the wheel as I navigated the busy street. A massive trailer sped past me, overtaking my car so suddenly that I instinctively gripped the steering wheel tighter.
I was about to mutter a curse when, out of nowhere, the massive vehicle veered off course—slamming into a pedestrian.
Time slowed.
Someone was flung into the air. The body twisted unnaturally before crashing onto the asphalt with a thud. My heart slammed against my ribcage.
"s**t!" I swerved to the side, barely registering the screams of bystanders as I threw my car into the park and bolted out.
People were already gathering, murmuring in shock. Some had their phones out, recording, while others hesitated to step forward.
I didn’t hesitate.
I pushed past the crowd and crouched beside the unmoving body. My breath hitched. Blood smeared the surrounding pavement, and her long, dark hair clung to her pale face.
I reached out, my hands trembling as I brushed strands away from her face.
Then my world stopped.
"Natalie?" I choked out.
For five years, I had searched for her. Five damn years. And now, she was before me, broken and covered in blood.
"Natalie!" I yelled, my hands cupping her cold, bloodied cheeks. No response. Her lashes barely fluttered, her lips parted as if struggling to breathe.
No. No, no, no.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
I scooped her up, cradling her limp body against my chest as I rushed to my car. The crowd parted for me.
"Call an ambulance!" someone shouted.
Screw that. I wasn’t waiting.
I yanked open the passenger door, carefully settling her in the seat. Blood smeared my hands, staining my shirt, but I didn’t care. I shut the door, rushed to the driver’s side, and floored the accelerator.
I ignored the speed limits. Ignored the blaring horns of other cars. My only focus was getting her to the hospital.
"Natalie, stay with me," I murmured, glancing at her unconscious form. "Don’t you dare leave me again?"
Within minutes, I screeched to a stop in front of the hospital’s emergency entrance.
"Help!" I bellowed, bursting out of the car.
The automatic doors slid open, and within seconds, nurses rushed out with a stretcher.
"She was hit by a trailer!" I explained, my voice hoarse. "She—she’s losing blood!"
"Sir, step back!" one of the nurses instructed as they carefully transferred her onto the stretcher.
My hands twitched at my sides, reluctant to let her go.
"Sir, please wait outside,” another nurse told me as they wheeled her in.
Like hell, I was waiting outside.
I followed them into the emergency ward, my pulse hammering as I watched them work, checking her vitals, and inserting IV lines.
Then, I was shoved back.
"Sir, you need to stay out here. We’ll do everything we can."
The doors swung shut, cutting me off from her.
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing furiously in front of the emergency room. I had waited five years. Five years of searching, of regret, of wondering if I’d ever see her again. And the first time I did—she was fighting for her life.
Time blurred. I didn’t know how long I stood there, pacing.
Then the doors opened.
A doctor stepped out, his expression unreadable.
"Mr. Blackwood?" he asked. It was obvious that he recognized me.
"How is she?" I demanded.
"The surgery was successful," he said, but my stomach clenched at the hesitation in his voice. However, we cannot determine if she is 100% okay until she wakes up. She suffered a severe head injury, and it affected a crucial nerve in her brain. In cases like this, the outcome can vary—it could lead to brain damage, partial paralysis, or, in the worst case, she might slip into a coma."
- Writer
