The next day, Carol had just wrapped up a meeting with a client when the receptionist called her over.

Thinking it might be another client, she paused, recalling who she had appointments with. "Is it Mr. Lee?"

The receptionist shook her head. "Said his last name is Morgan. Dude's got a real attitude too. He's downstairs waiting-kinda looks like trouble."

Ryan?

Carol's gaze cooled. "I'm not meeting him."

After work, she deliberately lingered a bit before heading out, but the moment she stepped outside the building, there he was-Ryan, leaning against his attention-seeking sports car, moody as ever.

As soon as he saw her, he stormed up. His words came out like he was doing her a favor, laced with blame. "Carol, haven't you caused enough drama? Yeah, I messed up, did what all guys do! But was a flash marriage really necessary? This whole thing's just to get back at me, right?"

Carol stared at him blankly. He reached out, trying to take her hand, speaking softer this time. "Look, I'm here to make peace, Carol. Let's stop this. Let's get back together and do it right. I swear, no more drama from other women again..."

That made Carol chuckle.

She yanked her hand away like she'd touched something filthy, her eyes practically dripping with disgust. "Ryan, seriously? You don't understand plain English? We're done."

"And don't go projecting your sleazy standards onto every guy out there. Spare me the ego trip. My marriage had nothing to do with you. I just needed to clean house-you were the mess."

Her words and the sheer contempt in her expression hit him hard, his face twitching between rage and embarrassment. The stares from passersby only frustrated him more.

He jabbed a finger in her face and started shouting, his tone vicious. "Carol, quit acting all high and mighty! You think you're some kind of queen now, huh? Landed a rich guy? That sickly loser won't satisfy you forever. One day when he's gone, what then? You'll be back on the streets-"

"Smack!"

Her hand landed across his face, loud and crisp, shutting him right up.

Carol's hand tingled from the hit, her eyes icy. "Watch your mouth."

Ryan stood there stunned, his cheek red, struggling to process what just happened. Then he snapped. "You bitch! You just hit me?"

He swung his hand back, aiming at her face.

Carol flinched instinctively, waiting for impact... but it never came.

Instead, a muffled thud rang out, followed by Ryan's pained grunt.

She opened her eyes to see Ryan sprawled on the ground, clutching his side in pain. A firm arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a faintly medicated, sterile-smelling embrace.

Ethan had shown up out of nowhere-still looking pale and lean, but the chill radiating from him was enough to make anyone freeze. He didn't say a word, just stood there, expression stone-cold, eyes flicking to Ryan like he was something no one wanted to step in.

Right then, sirens approached, getting louder. The police Carol had preemptively called arrived, quickly pinning down the flailing, cursing Ryan.

Ethan didn't spare him another glance. He simply turned to Jack and said coolly, "Take care of it."

Jack nodded, walked over to the officers, and murmured, "Officer, Ms. Bennett has stated she doesn't wish to engage. Please handle it however you see fit."

Ethan had his arm around Carol as they headed toward the Bentley parked nearby. Once they were in the car, with the world shut out, he quietly let go.

Carol turned to look at his sculpted profile, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Mr. Mitchell, fancy seeing you here. Passing by again?"

Ethan didn't bother denying the sarcasm. Eyes locked on the road ahead, he remarked flatly, "Not the smartest way to handle that."

Carol raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "He didn't land a hit, did he? You were there... keeping me safe." She deliberately softened her voice on the word "safe."

Finally, Ethan looked at her, gaze deep and unwavering. His tone was calm, but there was weight behind it. "People like him need to learn that putting hands on you comes with a price they can't afford."

Carol froze for a beat.

Was he schooling her on self-protection? Or... was that him standing up for her?

She quickly smiled again, bright and cheery. "Got it. Thanks for the life lesson, Mr. Mitchell."

Ethan frowned, clearly unimpressed with her breezy attitude, but he didn't argue. Just then, Jack got in after wrapping things up and started the engine.

Back at the villa, as they stepped inside, Carol noticed Ethan's steps halt ever so slightly. Without turning, he said, "Just this once."

Sounded more like a warning, but not quite harsh.

Carol responded easily, "Loud and clear~ I'll get dinner started~"

Only when Ethan went upstairs did her smile fade. She rubbed her cheeks, sore from keeping up appearances too long.

Carol had expected him to use this mess as an excuse to bring up divorce again.

But he didn't.

And it hit her-this man, distant as he might seem, handled things sharply, decisively, and with a power that got real results.

He once said he wouldn't clean up her messes. Yet here he was, throwing the Mitchell family's weight behind silencing Ryan.

Sure, maybe it was more about protecting the family name, not letting it get dragged through tabloid trash. But still, it didn't change the fact that she was shielded by it.

The feeling was unfamiliar.

Back when she was with Ryan, she always faced problems solo. Never once did she think someone out there might stand behind her like this.

Now though... awkward as it was, and despite their whole "arrangement," she couldn't deny the sense of security that clung to her.

It didn't feel half bad.

She went to her room and picked up her digital tablet, ready to sketch. But her thoughts kept drifting, her pen hovering motionless over the screen for a long time.

Again and again, Ethan's voice echoed in her mind-

"People like him need to learn that putting hands on you comes with a price they can't afford."

Her heart skipped. No warning, just stumbled over itself.

When she finally blinked out of her daze, she was startled to see a rough sketch of Ethan's profile taking shape on the screen. Just a few strokes, but it captured that cold elegance behind his frail exterior.

Panic flickered through her. She hit delete in a snap, clearing the screen instantly.

Then she pressed a hand to her chest, face slightly burning, and flung herself onto the bed, burying her head in the soft pillow.

Carol, snap out of it.

It was the weekend, so no alarms, no meetings.

Carol slept in without a care, then dragged herself to the couch with her sketchpad, turned on the TV just for some background noise, and started drawing.

As she flipped through the channels absentmindedly, her finger hovered as a familiar face popped up-it was a business talk show featuring Ethan.

She paused mid-motion.

He was dressed in a tailored dark suit. Even though his skin still looked a bit pale, the way he sat, back straight and eyes sharp, gave off a strong, unshakable presence. Every answer he gave to the host was delivered calmly and clearly-composed, confident, in control.

Then the host switched gears and got bold: "Mr. Mitchell, there's been a lot of buzz lately about your health. Some investors are worried-will that impact your control over Mitchell Group and its future direction?"

Even Carol thought that was out of line. She lifted her coffee but forgot to drink, eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for his response.

Ethan didn't even blink. His tone stayed cool and even as he replied, "I'm fully aware of my health, and it doesn't affect my judgment. More importantly, Mitchell Group has a sound decision-making system. It doesn't rely on one person."

He was calm and matter-of-fact, effectively turning a crisis into nothing at all.

Carol just stared blankly at the screen, watching that powerful man speak like he had the whole world under control.

She didn't know why, but her chest felt like it trembled a little.

Monday morning's meeting came fast.

The design department head added a last-minute update: "...Apparently two major partners just pulled out of several of Ryan's real estate projects under the Morgan Group. And some of the luxury brand collabs are on hold too. Looks like our payments for the model home work might get delayed, so everyone, double-check your parts and stay on top of it."

He lowered his voice, sounding half serious, half gossipy: "Word is, they've pissed off someone big..."

Carol suddenly pictured Ethan's expressionless but chilling face from the other day.

"People like him need to learn that putting hands on you comes with a price they can't afford."

That line echoed in her head out of nowhere.

Could it really be him?

In the break room, the coffee chat was already in full swing.

Someone brought up Ryan's scandalous video. Some coworkers praised whoever exposed it as a sort of vigilante hero, others thought it crossed a line and messed with people's privacy.

One girl leaned in, lowering her voice for effect. "A friend of mine in IT said some hacker group is digging into the uploader. Heard they're close to figuring it out..."

Someone blinked. "Why go after the uploader?"

"Probably bored and nosy. Said they want the uploader to have a taste of their own medicine."

Carol didn't bother to stick around. She grabbed her coffee and walked straight out.

But the moment she sat back at her desk, her phone rang.

It was Donald Bennett.

As soon as the call connected, Donald Bennett's voice came rushing in with his usual fake concern and urgency. "Carol, the Morgans reached out. They want you to take down that original video ASAP. No need to show your face, just post a statement saying the video was AI-generated and Ryan's being framed..."

Carol cut him off. "Not happening."

His tone turned sharp immediately. "Carol! Can't you be a bit more sensible? The Bennetts and Morgans do business together! Have you thought about what this means for the family?"

She let out a cold laugh, each word hitting like a slap. "The family? Donald Bennett, where was that sense of family when you cheated on Mom and brought that mistress home while she was still sick?"

Donald snapped, fury breaking through. "I'm your father!"

"I don't have a father. Mine died a long time ago."

Carol inhaled sharply, choking back the lump in her throat. "Take care of yourself."

And with that, she hung up, casually dragging his number into her blocklist.

That afternoon, a message from Sophia popped up with a link.

"Girl! Look at this! Someone seems to have dug up something on the video poster! The comments are full of trolls foaming at the mouth, yelling about doxing them and giving 'em a taste of their own medicine!"

Then a voice message followed, her voice full of worry. "Carol, I know you didn't do anything wrong. But if those lunatics start targeting you, it's still a huge headache!

"Plus, if the Mitchell family gets caught up in this mess... maybe it's time to just divorce him? Save yourself."

Carol frowned and opened the link, staring at the hostile comments on the screen. A twinge of unease crept into her chest.

It's not like she was scared-she had nothing to lose.

But what if Sophia was right? What if things escalated and the Mitchells got dragged in?

Ethan hated drama. Especially anything personal from her side.

She clenched her phone a little tighter, fingertips cold.

He'd warned her before: "Don't bring trouble to the Mitchells."

If her info really got leaked, staining the Mitchells' name... Would he just drop her like that? No hesitation?

Weirdly, deep down, she did feel... a tiny flicker of regret?

They hadn't even gotten out of the so-called "honeymoon phase" yet.

Meanwhile, over in the Mitchell Group CEO's office-

Jack finished delivering the latest update on the Morgans' project crashing, then added, "Boss, one more thing. The online buzz around that video? Someone's steering attention toward the original poster. Feels like the Morgans are behind it. Mrs. Mitchell... might be at risk of getting doxed."

Ethan had been going through documents the whole time, but hearing "Mrs. Mitchell," his pen paused mid-air.

Jack caught the slight change in his boss's expression and felt a chill run down his spine. That look usually meant someone was seriously screwed.

But then, Ethan's voice came calm and unreadable as always: "Shut it down."

Jack looked up, visibly startled, but the moment his eyes met Ethan's calm and unreadable gaze, he quickly straightened up and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll handle it right away."

As he stepped out of the office, Jack couldn't help but think: Sure, the boss keeps saying he won't clean up after his wife, but isn't that exactly what he's been doing all along - just less obvious about it?

At this rate, Ms. Bennett might as well officially become Mrs. Mitchell for real.

*

When Carol got off work and clicked on that link again, the page had completely vanished. Not only was the post gone, but the topic had also been majorly suppressed. It felt like someone wiped the entire thing off the internet - no trace left at all.

She stared blankly at her screen. Honestly, who else besides Ethan could pull off something like this?

That uneasiness in her chest was quietly replaced by something more complicated.

Just then, her phone rang - it was Jack.

"Mrs. Mitchell, the boss instructed me to drive you to and from work for the time being," he informed her.

Carol immediately connected the dots. "So you're the one who handled the post, right? Thanks..."

Jack glanced into the rearview mirror at the man in the backseat, who had his eyes closed like he was resting. "Ma'am, Mr. Mitchell is also in the car. I'm afraid I'm not the one to pass on your thanks."

As soon as he said that, Ethan opened his eyes and shot him a glare.

"Didn't know you had this much to say lately."

Jack just smiled to himself. After working with Ethan for so long, he'd never once seen the man so openly concerned about someone.

As Carol exited the building, her eyes instantly landed on the Bentley parked by the curb. She climbed in and leaned closer to the chilly man beside her, arching a playful brow. "Thanks, hubby~"

Up front, Jack had kind of developed a tolerance for Carol's playful antics by now. He just kept his eyes on the road, pretending not to hear.

Ethan didn't even blink. "Not necessary."

But Carol didn't get discouraged. She just shot him a mischievous wink. "But you didn't object to the 'hubby' though~"

Ethan: "..."

Back home, Ethan barely said a word before heading straight to the living room and switching on his laptop.

Carol didn't bother him, just slipped into the kitchen.

As night fell, the gentle gurgle of the stew pot and the warm scent of food slowly filled the quiet house, softening the cold, sterile vibe of the space.

Ethan finally shut his laptop with a sigh and leaned back a bit, exhausted. But his eyes drifted - almost involuntarily - toward the kitchen where warm light poured out.

This kind of homey vibe... it'd been a long time since he felt it.

He closed his eyes, the scent lingering at the tip of his nose, and somewhere deep in his chest, that usually cold and guarded spot... seemed to melt just a bit.

The next morning, Carol had just finished her breakfast when her phone buzzed-it was Grace.

"Carol, Ethan's got a follow-up at the sanatorium today. Go with him, will you?"

Grace's tone was gentle but left no room for arguing. "You're his wife. Spend more time with him. It'll be good if you can remember what the doctor says."

Carol glanced at Ethan across the table. He was sipping his coffee, expression unchanged, like he'd known about this all along.

She could only nod. "Alright, Grace. Got it."

After ending the call, Carol tidied up the dishes and looked at Ethan. "When are we heading out?"

"Once Jack gets here," Ethan said, setting his mug down and grabbing his coat. "You don't have to force yourself just to please my mom. If you don't want to go, then don't."

Carol paused, then smiled lightly. "I've already agreed. Might as well go."

She really did want to know-just how bad was his condition, exactly? Sophia had said he had about two months left. Would the doctor say the same?

About thirty minutes later, Jack drove up.

Carol and Ethan sat in the backseat. The car was silent except for the soft piano music playing.

Ethan leaned back in the seat, eyes closed. His face looked paler than usual.

Carol sneaked a look at him. His lashes were long, casting faint shadows on his cheekbones. There was a surprising softness to him in that moment.

She remembered seeing him for the first time at the sanatorium-reclining on a lounge chair, fragile like something impossibly delicate. Her chest tightened.

After a forty-minute drive, they arrived at the facility.

The place was quiet and peaceful, full of trees and greenery. The faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the air, but it wasn't overpowering.

Just as they reached the room, a young man in a white coat and gold-rimmed glasses walked up to them.

He looked about Ethan's age, with a calm and friendly demeanor. The moment he saw Carol, he visibly hesitated.

"Ethan, who's this?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Simon," Ethan replied. Then he turned to Carol. "Simon Blake, Carol."

He didn't mention Carol's identity, but Simon was quick to pick it up. Smiling, he offered his hand. "Mrs. Mitchell, nice to meet you. I'm Simon-Ethan's friend and attending physician."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Blake," Carol said, shaking his hand. His palm was warm, steady-very doctor-like.

Inside the room, Simon began his exams.

He checked Ethan's temperature and blood pressure first, then moved on to drawing blood.

When the nurse inserted the needle, Ethan's arm tightened. His knuckles went pale, but he didn't say a word, just stared out the window with a calm, unreadable gaze.

Carol stood next to him, watching the needle slide into his pale skin. Unconsciously, her hands clenched.

It wasn't until the nurse pulled the needle out and pressed a cotton swab over it that she finally let out a breath.

"Blood pressure's a bit low, temperature's fine," Simon noted, glancing up at Ethan. "We'll do a CT scan later to check the organs. Have you been taking your meds on time? Any discomfort lately?"

"Yeah, I've been taking them," Ethan replied in his usual even tone. "No issues."

Simon obviously didn't buy it, but he didn't press further. He just nodded and said, "Let's get a CT scan done first."

While Ethan was getting scanned, Carol waited outside.

A little while later, Simon came out and said, "Mrs. Mitchell, can we talk for a bit?"

Carol nodded and followed him to the seating area in the hallway.

"You've probably got a general idea of his condition," Simon got straight to the point, his tone turning serious. "It's pretty complicated. His immune system's a mess, there are sudden acute episodes, and a bunch of other complications."

Even though she'd mentally prepared herself, hearing it straight from a doctor still made Carol's heart sink.

"He's in a lot of pain, but he hides it well." Simon stared into the distance, sighing just softly enough that it might be missed. "He walls himself off-from everyone. Family, friends... Even when I suggested therapy, he shut it down."

He turned to face her, his eyes full of sincerity. "Honestly, I was surprised when I heard he got married. And seeing you here with him today? Even more surprising. Carol, I don't know what kind of agreement or relationship you two have exactly... but legally, you're the closest person to him right now."

He paused briefly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "His physical condition is heavily influenced by his mental state. That whole two-month estimate? That was based on the worst-case scenario when he last had a near-death episode. But if he could-if he wanted to-fight harder to live, if he had a shift in mindset... things might take a different turn."

"You being here might be a game-changer," Simon's eyes carried a faint glow of hope. "Try to... just get a little closer to him? Even if it's just as a roommate, or a friend. Sometimes, that everyday warmth and comfort can be more powerful than any fancy meds."

Simon's words hit Carol like a stone thrown into a still lake.

Suddenly, "two months" didn't feel like a vague deadline. It had weight-a living, breathing man's suffering, struggle, and the pain hidden under that cold exterior.

She stared at the lush green trees beyond the terrace. Sunlight was pouring down, but somehow it didn't feel warm at all.

Her heart was in a mess.

Late at night, everything was quiet-until the soft sound of rain started tapping at the window.

But then, over the drizzle, she was jolted awake by a strange thud followed by sharp, struggling gasps.

It came from upstairs.

Her whole body went tense. Her heart skipped-Ethan!

She jumped out of bed, didn't even bother with shoes, and ran straight upstairs barefoot. The door to the master bedroom wasn't locked; she shoved it open.

Only a dim bedside lamp was on.

Ethan was curled up in bed, visibly shaking from head to toe. His face was frighteningly flushed, hair soaked with sweat and sticking to his forehead.

He was breathing so hard-it was like every breath rattled in his chest, mouth tinged with blue, and he was coughing up blood.

"Ethan!" Carol rushed to his bedside, reached out and touched his forehead-burning hot. A raging fever.