Chapter 8 - The Midnight Visitor
The door swung completely open, revealing not a security guard or a nurse, but Ethan himself. He had changed out of his daytime clothes into a tailored charcoal suit, though the white bandage around his head remained prominently in place, contrasting sharply with his dark attire. His expression was a mask of cold, calculated fury as he stepped into the dim light of the hospital room. He glanced quickly at Maya’s hands, noting the burner phone that she had just hastily shoved beneath her hospital pillow.
Ethan walked slowly toward the bed, his polished leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the linoleum floor. He stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Late night for visitors, don't you think?" Ethan asked, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "Or were you calling for help that isn't coming?"
Maya stared back at him, forcing every ounce of terror and weakness out of her expression, replacing it with a cold, hardened stare. She remembered her brother's words: Trust me. Let him think he won.
"I know about the offshore accounts, Ethan," Maya said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the silence of the room like a scalpel.
Ethan’s posture stiffened instantly. The calm, arrogant mask slipped for a split second, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly regained his composure. He let out a dry, humorless chuckle, stepping closer until he stood right beside the mattress, looming over her.
"You must be hitting your head harder than I thought," Ethan replied smoothly, though a subtle twitch in his jaw betrayed his internal panic. "What nonsense are you babbling about now?"
"Three million dollars," Maya continued, holding his gaze without blinking. "Transferred out of our joint business accounts into a shell company yesterday morning. Lucas saw it. Lucas is already on his way here."
The color drained entirely from Ethan’s face. The mention of Lucas—a man he knew possessed the ruthless intellect to dismantle his entire financial facade—shattered his remaining restraint. Ethan leaned over the bed, planting both hands on the metal guardrails, bringing his face inches from hers. The veneer of a grieving husband was completely gone, replaced by the desperate, cornered animal underneath.
"Your brother can't touch me," Ethan hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble. "I have your signed medical proxy. I have your power of attorney. And by tomorrow morning, once I get those divorce papers signed, every asset you ever owned legally belongs to me. Lucas won't find a single penny."
"You really think you're that smart, don't you?" Maya murmured, a faint, chilling smile touching the corner of her bruised lips.
Before Ethan could respond, the sharp chime of an incoming text message vibrated loudly from the burner phone hidden beneath Maya’s pillow. Ethan’s eyes snapped toward the pillow. Without a second thought, he lunged across the bed, shoving Maya aside as he violently ripped the pillow away to grab the glowing device.
He stared down at the screen, and the blood instantly drained from his face as he read the incoming message from an unknown number: Account frozen. Federal investigators have been notified.
Ethan spun around to look at Maya in sheer horror, but before he could speak, the door burst open behind him, and two federal agents in dark windbreakers stepped into the room, their badges gleaming under the lights.
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"Ethan Miller," the lead agent announced, pulling out a pair of steel handcuffs. "You are under arrest for attempted murder and financial wire fraud."
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