ETHAN’S ULTIMATE RISE TO POWER

DEEP BETRAYAL

The sound of footsteps faded as Martin and his guards turned their backs on the wreckage—and on the wrecked man at its center.

Ethan lay on the dusty, oil-stained ground, body broken, lips cracked and bleeding, his clothes torn and soaked with sweat and blood. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Every inch of him screamed in pain, but none of it compared to the agony twisting through his heart.

He didn’t even look up as Martin’s sleek black car pulled up nearby, the engine purring like a predator. The door opened with a soft click, and Martin, still smiling smugly, climbed into the back seat. His guards followed, exchanging quiet chuckles and murmurs. One of them glanced back at Ethan, smirking with cruel satisfaction.

The driver started the engine again. Tires crunched over the gravel and broken glass scattered from the demolished shop. Then came the roar of the car pulling away, kicking up a cloud of dust that floated gently through the air and settled over Ethan’s crumpled figure like a burial shroud.

And just like that… they were gone.

Ethan didn’t move. He couldn’t. He lay sprawled on the gravel-strewn ground like a discarded ragdoll, barely breathing. Blood trickled slowly from his nose, mixing with the sweat and grime on his face. His chest ached with every shallow breath, his ribs screaming, his limbs numb. His body was too weak, too battered. But even worse was the hollowness inside—deeper than any bruise, more painful than any broken bone.

His gaze shifted upward, slow and blurry. The sky above stretched vast and indifferent, the golden rays of the setting sun bleeding into shades of burnt orange and deep purple. The beauty of it stung. Even the sky dared to be beautiful on a day like this.

Tears slid silently down the sides of Ethan’s face, dripping into the dust beneath him.

Just today… He had lost everything.

His shop was now gone. Years of sweat and effort reduced to rubble in minutes. His pride—humiliated and stomped into the dirt by Martin’s designer shoe. And Helena… the woman he had loved more than anything. The woman he’d believed was by his side. Helena… The woman he had fought so hard to hold on to… maybe she was never really his.

He swallowed hard, wincing as his throat burned. His chest clenched painfully.

Why?

How could she call Martin “sweetheart”? How could she say she was proud of what he had done—to him? How could she stand by and let all this happen?

The tears flowed faster now. Ethan shut his eyes tight, as if he could block it all out, but the memories refused to go away. Martin’s smug face. The thugs who beat him. Helena’s voice—soft, affectionate, not for him, but for Martin.

If only…

If only he was rich.

If only he had power.

If only he wasn’t just a damn mechanic scraping by on broken engines and oil-stained paychecks.

Then maybe Martin wouldn’t have dared. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe Helena would still love him.

He kept his gaze fixed on the darkening sky as daylight slowly vanished. The warm orange hues faded into purples, then into deepening blues. Evening crept in, silent and cold, wrapping around him like a second skin.

And still… he didn’t move.

He just let the tears fall, one after the other, pooling in the dirt beneath his cheek.

Then… he heard it.

The soft hum of a car approaching.

His ears strained as the vehicle came to a stop nearby. A door slammed open, followed by hurried footsteps crunching against the gravel.

“Ethan?! Ethan!”

That voice.

It belonged to Lucas.

Ethan blinked, barely able to turn his head, but the name alone brought a flicker of warmth to his battered heart.

“Shit, man—oh God. Ethan, I’m so sorry,” Lucas cried, rushing to his friend’s side. “I—I couldn’t leave work. The damn office was chaos. I came as fast as I heard what was happening—”

Lucas dropped to his knees beside him, horror filling his face as he took in Ethan’s battered form.

“Jesus Christ… What the hell did they do to you?”

Ethan tried to speak, but his throat was raw. Only a weak groan escaped his lips.

“Hold on,” Lucas said urgently, slipping an arm around his back and lifting him gently. Ethan winced and groaned loudly as white-hot pain shot through his ribs.

“Fuck,” Lucas cursed under his breath. “I swear to God, Martin will pay for this.”

He held Ethan with surprising care, lifting him slowly and guiding him toward the car.

“You’re going to the hospital, man,” he said firmly. “You need help. Badly.”

Every step was agony, but Lucas held on, supporting most of Ethan’s weight as they hobbled toward the car. Ethan’s legs nearly gave out halfway there, but Lucas never let go.

He opened the passenger side door and eased him in carefully, trying to minimize the pain.

“You’re gonna be alright, man,” Lucas whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise. I won’t let him get away with this.”

He shut the car door with a firm slam and rushed to the driver’s side. His hands trembled as he slid behind the wheel, casting another glance at Ethan slumped in the passenger seat, his face bruised, swollen, and streaked with dried blood and tears.

“Hang in there, man,” Lucas muttered, turning the key. The engine roared to life. He gripped the steering wheel tight and floored the accelerator, the tires screeching as they sped off into the night.

Ethan barely moved. The vibrations of the car jolted through his broken ribs like bolts of lightning, but he made no sound. He simply stared blankly through the windshield, his eyes glazed and distant.

Lucas glanced at him again and his chest tightened. “They did a real number on you, didn’t they?” he whispered, more to himself than Ethan. “I swear, if I had gotten there a few minutes earlier—”

He stopped himself. No point in 'what ifs.'

The car moved through the dark streets, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the wind.

Lucas’s jaw was clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. “You should’ve called me sooner,” he muttered, though there was no accusation in his voice—only anger and guilt. “What the hell, Ethan? They beat you like a damn animal… Why? What happened?”

Ethan could barely speak. His lips were cracked. Blood had dried at the corner of his mouth. Still, he managed a broken whisper.

“Martin… he did all this because I refused to divorce Helena.”

Lucas’s head snapped toward him, just for a second. “That bastard’s been sniffing around her for years. You said she never gave him the time of day.”

“I thought she didn’t,” Ethan muttered bitterly. “She called him… sweetheart.”

Lucas’s hands went still on the wheel. “No,” he said flatly. “No way.”

Ethan nodded, a small, bitter smile forming on his battered face. “He put the call on speaker. Her voice. Clear as day. She knew he destroyed my shop… and she said she was proud of him.”

Lucas stared at the road, his breathing getting heavier. He stayed silent for a few seconds, his eyes glowing with anger under the dashboard lights.

“There’s something I need to tell you about Helena,” Lucas said at last. “But I’ll tell you after you get treated at the hospital.”

Ethan wanted to know what Lucas had to say about Helena—something he clearly didn’t know yet. But he stayed quiet and didn’t ask more. He decided to wait until after the hospital visit.

Minutes later, Lucas pulled up in front of a small private clinic on the outskirts of town. “Don’t worry, man,” he said, throwing the door open. “I didn’t take you to a big hospital—Martin probably owns half of them anyway. Here, I know someone.”

He jumped out and ran around to the other side, opening Ethan’s door. “Okay, come on, I got you.”

Lucas carefully wrapped an arm around Ethan’s torso and helped him out of the car. Ethan groaned, low and guttural, as his knees buckled. He could barely stand. Lucas gritted his teeth and shifted Ethan’s weight, half-carrying him toward the clinic doors. Inside, a nurse rushed forward, gasping as she saw Ethan.

Lucas didn’t waste time as he said, “He was attacked. Badly. Broken ribs, probably a concussion. Maybe worse.”

The nurse called for assistance and within seconds, two male staff arrived with a stretcher. They gently lifted Ethan onto it. His head lolled to the side, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

“Ethan,” Lucas whispered, following them down the hallway, “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

But even as he said it, Ethan could only think of her.

Helena.

The name echoed inside him like a curse.

She had called Martin sweetheart. She had said she was proud of what he did.

Even now, as the lights of the clinic ceiling passed overhead in a blur, Ethan could still hear her voice. Still see her betrayal replaying over and over in his mind. He didn’t care about the pain. Not really. Not the broken bones. Not the destroyed shop.

No.

What had crushed him most was knowing he was still fighting for someone… who had already left his side.

Someone who’d chosen his enemy over him.

———

The morning sunlight spilled gently into the hospital room, casting soft golden rays across the white bedsheets. Ethan stirred as he opened his eyes, feeling a dull ache in his body but far better than the night before. He turned slightly as he heard the door creak open—and there was Lucas, stepping in with a warm smile and a coffee in hand.

“The doctor says you’re good to go this morning,” Lucas announced, walking over to the side of the bed.

Ethan blinked and slowly sat up with a small wince. Despite the soreness, he smiled. “That’s good news… real good news.”

Lucas handed him the coffee. “You’re tougher than you look, man.”

Ethan took the cup and nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Lucas. For everything. If you hadn’t come last night…” He paused, the memory of the beating flashing in his mind like lightning. “I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Lucas waved it off, his tone light. “Don’t get all emotional on me now. You’d have done the same for me.”

Ethan’s smile faltered slightly, turning serious. “Actually… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

Lucas raised a brow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Ethan said, voice firm. “I’m going to divorce Helena. I don’t care what’s going on between her and Martin—I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.” He paused, swallowing hard. “But I can’t go back to the Rodriguez mansion. Not now. I… I was wondering if I could stay at your place for a while.”

Lucas let out a scoffing laugh, then rolled his eyes playfully. “You idiot. You really think you have to ask me that? Of course you can stay. For as long as you need. You’re like a brother to me.”

A wave of relief washed over Ethan. His shoulders slumped slightly, and a tired smile crept across his face. “I’m happy to have someone by my side.”

Lucas clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Always, man. Look, the doctor will be in soon to run a few checks before they discharge you. I’ll head down and grab us something to eat. You must be starving.”

Ethan nodded, the smile lingering. “Yeah… sounds good.”

Lucas grabbed his keys and left the room, letting the door click shut behind him. A few moments later, a nurse entered with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Carter. Just came to check on you before the doctor arrives. Do you need anything in the meantime?”

Ethan offered her a polite smile. “Actually… do you mind turning the TV on for me?”

“Of course.” She grabbed the remote, turned on the wall-mounted television, and handed it to him. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said.

He started flipping through the channels without much interest. Most were commercials, reruns, or talk shows he didn’t care about. He was about to skip past a news channel when something on the screen made him stop.

“BREAKING NEWS: Helena Rodriguez weds Martin Rutherford in private family ceremony.”

Ethan froze. His thumb stayed on the remote, but he didn’t press anything. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at the live footage.

There she was.

Helena.

Wearing a stunning white wedding dress, with lace that hugged her body perfectly. Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant bun under a long veil. She walked slowly down an aisle decorated with flowers, two flower girls tossing petals in front of her. Each step brought her closer to Martin—who stood at the altar in a white suit, grinning like he had just won everything.

Ethan’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

This wasn’t a prank.

This wasn’t fake.

It was real.

She was marrying him.

The same woman who once promised to love Ethan—was now smiling at the man who nearly killed him. The man who destroyed his life. Ethan’s hand shook as he held the remote. He didn’t know if he should throw it across the room or just drop it and give up.

In that moment, the truth hit him hard—Helena hadn’t just turned her back on him. She had buried the knife in his back and smiled as she twisted it.