Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

I freaked out and rushed over, yanking out a tissue to help him wipe, my hands shaking like crazy.

Ethan grabbed my hand, all calm and cool. "It's okay."

How could this be okay?

"Victor, you..."

Jason got up too, staring at Victor, totally confused.

Victor, though, was still fuming, his eyes darting around like he was hunting for another weapon.

"Can't you just talk it out?"

I tried to calm Victor down, but my words were like air to him.

He spotted Ethan's grip strength bar by the TV cabinet. Without a word, he snatched it and charged at Ethan.

What kind of dad beats his kid like this? What did Ethan do to deserve this?

Ethan, at twenty-nine, was strong and fit. Physically, old man Victor was no match. But Ethan just stood there, stone-faced, not even trying to dodge, ready to take the hit. Without thinking, I threw myself in front of him.

Victor's blow landed right on my shoulder.

Even though it was winter and I had thick clothes on, that grip strength bar was heavy, and my shoulder went numb with pain.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out, thinking that no matter how much it hurt, it couldn't be worse than Ethan's bleeding forehead. "Emily." Ethan held me, calling my name, his blood dripping onto my face.

I could hear the tension in his voice.

But Victor wasn't done. He was ready to strike again.

Jason jumped in and grabbed the grip strength bar just in time.

"Calm down," Jason yelled.

Victor tugged twice, but Jason held on tight. Finally, Victor let go, still fuming, breathing hard, and pointing a shaky finger at Ethan. "You bastard, get that land back for me."

Jason and I exchanged confused looks.

Ethan got it, though. Blood dripped from his forehead, and his calm, indifferent expression made him look terrifyingly fierce. "How can I take back the land I've already given away?" he said calmly.

Maybe it was this stubborn attitude that really set Victor off.

Victor ditched the weapon and tried to go at Ethan with his hands. But Jason held him back.

"Violence won't solve anything," Jason said.

Victor kicked in our direction, missing Ethan but knocking over a cup on the coffee table.

Two goldfish, struggling without water, flopped on the table.

Holding my aching shoulder, I watched the frenzied Victor, feeling like things had spiraled out of control.

Out of nowhere, Victor's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto Jason, gasping for air.

"What's wrong?"

Jason quickly laid him flat and started first aid.

I was so scared I didn't know what to do. It took me a few seconds to react and rush over.

I had completely forgotten about the blow Victor had dealt me earlier. All I knew was that he couldn't be in trouble.

Despite the strained relationship between Victor and Ethan and tonight's complete breakdown, Ethan was a principled guy who valued family. Even if he didn't like Victor, deep down, he still cared for his dad. That's why he didn't fight back tonight.

If Victor were to suffer serious consequences, Ethan would be tormented with guilt for the rest of his life.

"Call an ambulance," Jason said.

I snapped out of it and quickly took out my phone to make the call. Within five minutes, the ambulance arrived.

We got into the ambulance, and Jason followed us to the hospital in his car.

Ethan's bloody head shocked the doctors, who wanted to bandage him immediately. But he insisted on waiting until Victor's examination was complete.

By the time Victor got to the hospital, he had chilled out a lot. After the docs checked him out and asked a few questions, they said his blood pressure spiked 'cause he got super pissed, but he wasn't in any real danger. The doc gave Ethan a look. "Young man, don't be too impulsive. Sometimes you need to be patient."

Ethan just stayed quiet.

I knew Ethan had had enough for one night, so I took him to get patched up. When the doc cleaned his forehead, I saw a nasty gash.

The nurse told him to hang in there while she applied the medicine. I bet it hurt like hell.

But Ethan didn't even flinch, his face a blank slate.

This wasn't his first head injury. At least twice since I'd known him, and this time it was Victor who did it. I felt bad for him.

I knew the real pain wasn't in his head but in his heart.

After the bandaging, as we walked towards Victor's room, Ethan suddenly grabbed my hand and stopped.

I turned back, surprised.

"Emily, does it hurt?" he asked, looking at me.

I couldn't describe how I felt at that moment. I felt both heartache and warmth, my eyes welling up.

I exaggeratedly waved my arm and shook my head firmly. "It doesn't hurt, really."

In the room, Victor was awake and looking fine.

There was someone else there too, Linda, who didn't look too happy to see us.

"Ethan, you're usually so reliable. How could you be so careless this time? Look at what you've done to Victor."

I still didn't know what had made Victor so mad.

Ethan, expressionless and staring into the distance, calmly said, "I'm not a good son. But you must be a good wife. You'll take good care of him. Emily, let's go." With that, he took my hand and walked out of the room.

"You bastard."

Victor's angry voice came from behind, followed by Linda's gentle persuasion.

"Calm down. You're not young anymore. You need to take care of your health. Getting angry won't change anything."

Ethan walked quickly, and soon I couldn't hear Linda's voice anymore.

Jason drove us back and then left.

After washing up in the bathroom, I came out to find Ethan half-lying on the bed.

The bedroom lights were off, and only the cigarette in his hand glowed intermittently.

I moved closer and saw him with his head tilted back, his hand resting on the edge of the bed, the cigarette burning away without being smoked.

In the darkness, his eyes were open, looking empty and lifeless, like a soulless shell.

He looked particularly pitiful, like a wounded animal silently licking its wounds in the night.

My heart ached as I lowered my head to look at him more closely.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my throat tight.

His eyes finally moved, slowly turning to me. He stared at me for a while before finally speaking.

"Emily, I'm cold. Can you warm me up?" Ethan's voice was very soft, almost pleading.

At that moment, my heart nearly broke.

Without a word, I took off my clothes, lifted the blanket, and snuggled up to him.

Ethan put out the cigarette and held me tightly.

I could hear his slow, labored breathing, which sounded particularly heavy, like a low background music telling a heartbreaking story.

"My head hurts." I suddenly heard.

I was at a loss, so I climbed up a bit and gently blew on his forehead.

I made every move soft, hoping he could feel it and that it would ease his heartache.

"Is it better?" I asked.

He held my hand, pulling me down a bit, and looked at me with a weak smile.

"Much better."

Just as I felt relieved, I heard him say, "But I'm still cold."

I bit my lip, struggling internally for a moment, my cheeks burning as I looked at him and whispered, "Then let's make love."

After the heat of the moment, I asked, "Feeling better now?"

A kiss landed on my forehead, and he held me tightly, his deep, magnetic voice saying just one word.

"Much better."

The next morning, I opened the villa's door to find a pile of beer cans and someone lying at our doorstep.