Chapter 4 - The Wife He Never Chose
By sunrise, my face was everywhere.
News sites.
Business pages.
Social media.
People who had never met me had already decided who I was.
Gold digger.
Opportunist.
Predator.
Some claimed I'd targeted Ethan before his accident.
Others claimed Gregory had hired me.
That one was closer to the truth.
The worst comments involved the photograph.
I stopped reading.
Mom didn't.
I found her crying in her recovery room.
"Don't."
I gently took the phone from her.
"They don't know you."
"I know."
"Then don't let strangers hurt you."
She looked at me.
"I was going to say the same thing."
I smiled sadly.
The Thornton family responded differently.
They sent security.
A black SUV waited outside my apartment.
Another remained near Mom's hospital.
Claire called.
"Don't speak to reporters."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Don't post anything."
"I don't even post breakfast."
"And don't answer questions about the contract."
"That sounds more important."
She went quiet.
"Come to the estate."
When I arrived, Ethan was furious.
Not at me.
At everyone else.
He was standing for the first time with assistance.
A physical therapist remained nearby.
Ethan's legs shook from the effort.
He hated that.
I could see it.
This was a man accustomed to controlling rooms, companies, perhaps entire markets.
Now walking six feet required concentration.
He saw me.
"You're late."
"I have a mother recovering from major surgery."
His expression immediately softened.
"Fair."
I folded my arms.
"Why did you ask me here?"
"Because someone leaked the photograph."
"I figured that part out."
"And because the leak happened hours after I started asking questions about Victor Hale."
"Coincidence?"
"I don't believe in expensive coincidences."
He sat down carefully.
I watched the effort it cost him.
"Who is Victor?"
"My father's chief operating officer."
"And?"
"My former mentor."
Ethan looked toward the window.
"Before my accident, I discovered irregularities in several Thornton subsidiaries."
"What kind?"
"Money moving through shell companies. Inflated consulting contracts. Property acquisitions that didn't make sense."
"Victor?"
"I didn't know."
"But you suspected him."
"I suspected someone."
He rubbed his temple.
"The night of the accident, Victor called me."
"What did he say?"
"That he had proof."
I felt cold.
"You were going to meet him."
"Yes."
"And you crashed."
"Yes."
"Do you think someone caused it?"
"I don't know."
The answer was careful.
But his eyes weren't.
He suspected something.
"Why would Victor leak our wedding photograph?"
"To create noise."
"Meaning?"
"If the public is talking about my bizarre marriage, they're not talking about why I suddenly woke up or what I might remember."
I stared at him.
"This sounds insane."
"Welcome to my family."
For the next week, I spent more time at the estate than I expected.
Officially, it was necessary because reporters were surrounding my apartment.
Unofficially, Ethan wanted me nearby.
At first, I assumed he didn't trust me.
Then I realized something stranger.
He trusted almost no one else.
Every morning, he underwent physical therapy.
I occasionally helped because of my experience as a nurse's aide.
The first time he tried walking without assistance, he nearly fell.
I caught his arm.
"Slow down."
"I am going slowly."
"For a racehorse, maybe."
He glared.
I smiled.
"Again."
He tried again.
Three steps.
Then four.
By the fifth day, he made it across the room.
He looked exhausted but triumphant.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself."
"I walked."
"Congratulations. Toddlers everywhere are furious."
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
That was the first moment I saw Ethan instead of Ethan Thornton.
Not the billionaire.
Not the unconscious man I'd married.
Just Ethan.
After that, something changed.
We talked.
At first, about practical things.
Mom.
His rehabilitation.
The media.
Then other things.
He told me his mother had died when he was nineteen.
I told him about growing up without my father.
He told me he hated charity galas.
I told him I'd never attended one.
He said, "You're not missing much."
One evening, I found him looking at our wedding photograph.
"I hate that picture," I said.
"Why?"
"Because everyone thinks it shows who I am."
"What do you think it shows?"
"A desperate woman kissing an unconscious stranger for money."
Ethan studied the image.
"I see something different."
"What?"
"A woman apologizing."
I looked at him.
"You couldn't hear me."
His eyes stayed on the photograph.
"Maybe I could."
My breath caught.
"What?"
"I don't remember words."
He looked at me.
"But I remember something."
"What?"
"Warmth."
Neither of us spoke.
The moment became too intimate.
I stood.
"I should go."
Then Ethan reached for my hand.
He didn't grab it.
His fingers simply touched mine.
The same way they had when he woke.
"Natalie."
I looked down.
His expression had changed.
"I don't want you staying here because of the contract."
"Then why?"
"Because someone may have deliberately put me in that hospital bed."
A chill ran through me.
"And?"
"And whoever did it knows you're connected to me now."
The following morning proved him right.
Claire entered during breakfast holding an envelope.
"No return address."
Inside was a photograph.
Not of Ethan.
Of me.
Leaving Mom's hospital the previous evening.
Someone had taken it from across the street.
On the back were six words.
Take the money. Leave the Thornton family.
Ethan read it twice.
His face became frighteningly calm.
"Security footage."
Claire nodded.
"Already checking."
I looked at the photograph.
"They followed me."
"Yes."
"My mother—"
"I've doubled her security."
I looked at Ethan.
"This happened because of you."
"I know."
"I never wanted any of this."
"I know."
"I only wanted Mom's surgery."
His voice softened.
"I know."
That made me angrier.
Because I couldn't hate him.
Not anymore.
Ethan stood carefully.
"I'll end the contract."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"You can leave. The medical payments remain covered."
"Ethan—"
"You didn't agree to danger."
"And you did?"
He stopped.
I stepped closer.
"You woke up and discovered someone married you, someone may have tried to kill you, and half your company might be stealing from you."
"That's approximately my week."
"And you think I'm going to take the money and disappear?"
"I think you should."
"Well, that's unfortunate."
"Why?"
I looked directly into his eyes.
"Because I'm your wife."
He stared at me.
"Contract wife," I added.
A tiny smile appeared.
"Legally, apparently there's no checkbox for that."
I laughed despite myself.
Then Claire's phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed immediately.
"What?"
She listened.
Then looked at Ethan.
"The security team found something."
"What?"
"Footage from the night of your accident."
Ethan's face went still.
Claire swallowed.
"It wasn't in the police evidence."
"Where did you get it?"
"An old Thornton security archive."
She placed the tablet on the table.
A grainy video appeared.
Ethan's car entered an underground garage hours before his crash.
A man approached it.
He looked around.
Then crouched beside the vehicle.
The man's face became visible for only a second.
But it was enough.
I looked at Ethan.
"Is that Victor?"
Ethan didn't answer.
Because standing beside Victor Hale in the video was someone neither of us expected.
Gregory Thornton.
May you like
Ethan's father.
---
