“Yuri,” I say.
He nods once. “I’ll find him.”
Anna reaches for my arm, but I step away before she can touch me.
“I’m going to the hospital.”
I leave her there with Yuri and walk out.
I’m halfway to the front hall when Ethan appears near the stairs, pale and hollow-eyed, still in the same ruined clothes from the morning. He looks like he hasn’t slept. Good. He shouldn’t.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“To the hospital.”
His mouth twists. “Of course.”
I keep walking.
He follows. “For her?”
I stop.
The silence between us is enough warning. He ignores it.
“What is it about her?” he says, voice rising. “Seriously. Why do you even like her fat ass? Why her? Why do you keep choosing her over me?”
I turn around slowly.
He’s breathing hard, eyes bright with something ugly and wounded and almost childlike.
“My own father,” he says. “Choosing her.”
I look at him for a long moment. “I thought you were in love with her.”
His face changes. Then he laughs, bitter and small. “I said that to stop the wedding.”
There it is.
Not love. Not regret. Just one more weapon he picked up because it was close enough to cut.
Something in me goes quiet. “You used her.”
“She was already there,” he snaps. “She always is. Standing there looking helpless, and everyone falls for it.”
I hit him.
Once.
Hard enough that he drops to the floor and stays there for a second, stunned, one hand against his mouth.
I stand over him, breathing evenly, and feel no regret at all.
Then something slips from his jacket pocket.
A torn piece of paper. Small. Folded badly.
I shouldn’t look, but I do.
