Woke Up and Left the Cage of My Marriage 27
Chapter 27
Ethan stood frozen in place, like a battered doll abandoned in the wilderness.
He watched as Natalie and another man’ walked away together, her hand on his arm. He stared at the blinding ring on her finger, heard the muffled whispers and sneers of the guests all
around him…
Suddenly-
He coughed up a mouthful of blood. It splattered onto the polished floor, spreading into a pool of glaring, crimson red.
His vision swam. Darkness closed in. He lost all strength and collapsed hard to the ground.
The last things he heard were gasps and panicked footsteps. And the final image in his mind
before it all faded-the most ruthless scene before he lost consciousness-was Natalie’s retreating figure, resolute and merciless.
News traveled fast: Ethan Fletcher collapsed from a sudden surge of fury at the Paris jewelry exhibition, blood on the floor. He was rushed to the hospital.
The doctors said the attack was triggered by acute emotional agitation on top of old injuries. He needed time to rest and recover.
But Ethan didn’t care. He lasted one day in that hospital bed. Then he yanked out his own IV, ignored the doctor’s shouts, and left.
There was only one thought in his mind-he had to find Natalie.
He couldn’t accept it. He refused to believe she was marrying someone else.
Derek? Why him?
Had that year together, all those gentle moments and promises-had it all been fake? Some carefully plotted act, just to get revenge on him?
No, he didn’t believe it.
She had to be angry. She had to be testing him. That was the only answer.
He needed to find her. He had to look her in the eye and ask-make her tell him the truth.
Like a soulless walking corpse, Ethan rushed back to the hotel. He stripped off his hospital gown and threw on the first shirt and suit jacket he could find. His tie was crooked, his clothes wrinkled.
His hair stuck up in wild tangles, dark circles hung under his eyes, and his chin was rough with
Chapter 27
stubble. He looked halfway to madness-shattered and lost.
He raced to the airport and bought the fastest ticket to Reykjavik.
21
On the plane, he was a mess of nerves. For hours and hours, he didn’t eat or drink a drop. He just stared out the window with bloodshot eyes, searching the clouds for any sign of the woman who had shattered him.
The moment he landed at Keflavik Airport in Iceland, the icy wind wrapped around him like a
blade.
Ethan wore only a thin suit, his lips turning purple from the cold, but he didn’t notice.
He was like a beast that had lost its way, desperate and frantic. He sprinted through the international departures hall, eyes sweeping across every Asian face, searching for hers.
Nothing. No sign of her. Nowhere.
“Natalie! Natalie, come out!”
He couldn’t hold back anymore. His voice was hoarse as he shouted, desperation twisting his words and drawing frightened glances from everyone around.
He didn’t care. He shoved through people at the check-in desk, pushing aside travelers. He grabbed the airport staff by their collars, his voice ragged and breaking: “Check! Check for Natalie Bennett! And Derek Lawson! Where did they go?! Tell me!”
Security was there in seconds, trying to restrain him. He fought them off, eyes blazing.
“Get off me! I have to find Natalie! She’s my wife! Where are you hiding her?!”
He spotted the desk microphone-his last hope and lunged for it. He snatched it away, shouting so loud his voice boomed across the entire airport, echoing in every corner.
“Natalie! Come out! You can’t do this to me! I know I was wrong! I really know I was wrong! Please… please, just look at me! Just once! Natalie-!”
His voice finally became a blood-tinged wail, his face streaked with tears and snot, all dignity
gone.
Finally, a team of strong security guards tackled him. They pinned him to the ground and strapped him into a restraint harness.
Ethan lay there, thrashing like a dying fish, his throat letting out hoarse, discordant howls, his eyes wild, empty except for his obsession.
“Natalie… my Natalie…”
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