CHAPTER 3
The morning sun filtered through the sheer silk curtains of the master bedroom, casting soft geometric patterns across the Persian rug. Downstairs, the heavy oak grandfather clock chimed eight times, signaling the official start of breakfast at the Thornton estate.
Ethan lay motionless under the duvet, his chest rising and falling in the artificial, rhythmic pattern he had perfected over months of practice. Sitting beside him, I carefully wiped his forehead with a damp cloth, playing the dutiful bride for the hidden cameras I knew were watching us.
Two days had passed since our midnight bargain, and every second spent in this massive house felt like walking through a minefield.
A sharp knock sounded at the bedroom door, followed immediately by the click of the latch. Vivian Thornton stepped into the room, dressed in an immaculate grey tweed suit with pearl earrings anchoring her elegant, cold demeanor.
She held a silver cane in her right hand, though she moved with the sharp, ruthless energy of a woman twenty years younger. Behind her stood Dr. Richard Vance, the Thornton family’s chief physician, carrying a heavy black medical kit.
"Good morning, Emma," Vivian said, her voice dry and clipped like snapping twigs. "How is my grandson faring today?"
"No change, Grandmother," I replied softly, placing the damp towel on the brass tray nearby. "His vitals have been steady all morning."
Dr. Vance stepped toward the bed, pulling a stethoscope from his pocket with a practiced, robotic movement. He placed the cold metal disk against Ethan’s chest, listening intently while checking the digital readouts on the heart monitor.
I held my breath, watching Dr. Vance’s fingers closely as he reached into his bag for a pre-filled syringe.
"We need to administer his daily neuro-stimulant injection," Dr. Vance announced, his face completely devoid of expression. "It helps maintain muscle tone and prevents deep vein thrombosis."
My blood ran cold as I remembered what Ethan had told me during our late-night conversation. That daily injection wasn't a neuro-stimulant; it was the exact paralytic sedative keeping him trapped in darkness.
"Wait," I spoke up quickly, stepping between Dr. Vance and the side of the bed.
Vivian’s dark eyes narrowed instantly, locking onto me with the force of an oncoming train. "Is there a problem, Emma?"
"I... I was reading through Ethan's medical charts last night," I lied smoothly, forcing my voice to remain calm and respectful. "His heart rate spiked slightly after yesterday's dosage. Shouldn't we run a full blood panel before giving him another round?"
Dr. Vance paused, his eyes darting nervously toward Vivian for a split second before regaining his composure.
"I have been Ethan’s personal physician for fifteen years, young lady," Dr. Vance said, his tone laced with condescending authority. "I hardly need medical advice from a twenty-four-year-old art restorer."
"She isn't giving advice, doctor; she’s asking a reasonable question," a smooth voice interjected from the doorway.
Jason stepped into the room, holding a porcelain cup of black coffee, a lazy, dangerous smile playing on his lips.
"Though I must say, Emma, you’re taking your role as protective wife very seriously," Jason added, strolling over to the window. "Are you sure you aren't just delaying the inevitable because you're afraid of losing your newfound status?"
"I care about my husband's life, Jason," I replied firmly, turning to face Vivian directly. "Please, Grandmother, just let Dr. Vance run the blood work first. It will only take an hour."
Vivian studied me for five long, agonizing seconds, her icy glare dissecting every line of my face. The tension in the room grew so thick that the quiet hum of the air conditioning sounded like a roar.
"Administer the dose, Richard," Vivian commanded coldly, dismissing my plea without a second thought. "Emma is emotional, as to be expected of a bride in her position. We will not disrupt Ethan's strict medical schedule."
Dr. Vance stepped forward immediately, uncapping the needle with a sharp plastic snap.
I panicked inside, knowing that if that drug hit Ethan’s bloodstream, he would be paralyzed and unconscious for another twenty-four hours, leaving us completely vulnerable to Jason’s moves.
Desperate to stop him, I reached for the brass water glass on the nightstand, intentionally striking it with my elbow. The heavy crystal pitcher shattered against the hardwood floor, sending water and sharp glass flying everywhere, right across Dr. Vance’s expensive leather shoes.
Dr. Vance jumped back with a startled curse, dropping the syringe onto the floor where it rolled under the heavy mahogany bed frame.
"Oh my goodness!" I cried out, dropping to my knees immediately. "I am so sorry! I am so clumsy today!"
"Enough!" Vivian snapped, her cane striking the floor with a loud thud. "You are a complete mess, girl!"
She turned her disgusted glare toward the physician, who was frantically wiping his soaked pant legs with a handkerchief.
"Richard, clean yourself up and prepare a fresh dose downstairs," Vivian ordered sharply. "Jason, come with me. We have the board members arriving at the Manhattan office in two hours."
Jason smirked, taking a long sip of his coffee as he looked down at me crawling on the floor amidst the broken glass.
"Try not to destroy the rest of the furniture while we're gone, cousin-in-law," Jason mocked, turning to follow Vivian out into the hallway.
Dr. Vance hurried out behind them, shutting the door tightly to restore the quiet of the master suite.
The moment their footsteps faded down the long carpeted corridor, I let out a long, ragged breath, resting my forehead against the edge of the bed frame.
"That was incredibly dangerous," Ethan whispered, his head turning slightly toward me on the pillow.
I looked up, seeing him staring down at me with a mixture of intense shock and growing respect in his hazel eyes.
"It worked, didn't it?" I rasped, wiping a small drop of water from my knee. "That needle is lost under the bed, and Dr. Vance won't be back for hours."
Ethan reached down, taking my hand gently to pull me up from the floor, his touch warm and reassuring against my cold skin.
"You took a massive risk standing up to Vivian," Ethan said, his voice lowering into that deep, magnetic register. "She doesn't tolerate disobedience from anyone in this family."
"I told you I was going to be your ally," I said, looking directly into his eyes. "I meant what I said."
Ethan stared at me for a long moment, his grip on my hand tightening slightly before he slowly let it go.
"Then we need to move fast," Ethan declared, sitting straight up in bed. "Underneath the floorboards in the library downstairs, there is an encrypted hard drive containing the original financial audits from before my crash."
He pointed toward the heavy closet across the room.
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"In that closet, behind the suit racks, there is a hidden panel leading to the estate's old service corridors," Ethan explained. "While they are in Manhattan for the board meeting, you are going to help me get down to that library."
I looked at the massive closet, then back at the billionaire sitting before me, realizing our covert war against the Thornton family had just officially begun.
