Price Of Grace: The System Made Me Billionaire

confronting her

Ethan’s P.O.V. (Continued)

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

She brought all the memories of my humiliation last night.

How she made me kneel and begged her for the money so that I could save my mother.

She believed Mike over him and let Mike humiliate him in front of everyone.

Sarah stood at the entrance, wearing a beige designer coat over a black dress.

Her dark hair was tied loosely behind her head, and oversized sunglasses covered most of her face.

She looked as though she had come directly from a luxury hotel rather than our home.

But something was different.

Her usual arrogance was still there, yet she appeared uncomfortable.

Her gaze moved from my face to the bandages covering my chest and arms.

Then she looked at the IV drip connected to my hand.

Her expression changed slightly.

She removed her sunglasses.

Her eyes were slightly swollen, and there were faint traces of yesterday's makeup beneath them.

For several seconds, she stared at me.

She cleared her throat before speaking.

“Police called early this morning.”

I raised my brows, waiting for her to explain.

“The …… car is on my name. So, they got the information from the insurance company and ….” She trailed off, and took a deep breath.

Her hesitation was filled with both guilt and awkwardness.

“They explained what happened last night.”

I scoffed aloud, earning a glare from him.

“You….. you didn’t tell me last night th…. that you, and Mom are this badly hurt.” She sounded both guilty and accusing.

I raised my brows in disbelief this time.

“Are you seriously real, Sarah?” I asked sarcastically, disbelief evident in my voice.

“From the very first call that you took, I told you repeatedly that we have been in a car accident and are struck inside the car.”

“You have access to see if I was telling you the truth or not, but instead what did you do?" I winced in pain when raising my voice caused pain in my ribs.

Her lips quivered, but no sound came out of her mouth.

She looked away.

For the first time since entering the room, she seemed unable to meet my eyes.

“I thought you were exaggerating,” she muttered.

I stared at her.

“Exaggerating?”

She pressed her lips together.

“Ethan, you have to understand how it looked from my side. You suddenly called me while I was celebrating Mike's promotion and started screaming about a car accident. What was I supposed to think?”

“That your husband and his mother might be dying?”

She flinched, lowering her head.

I continued staring at her.

“Was that really so difficult to believe?”

She didn’t answer, but I could see that she was losing her patience.

Sarah had never been a patient person.

And surely she couldn’t stand the accusation.

In the past, I had always shielded her from every bad thing, but I was done with that pathetic husband’s act.

“Why are you here? Really?” I asked her, exhaustion evident in my voice.

She flinched but slowly looked up.

She hesitated for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“Th…. the police and the insurance company are investigating. Th… they asked me why I activated the external deadbolt when the system showed the warning of force used on the windows instead of checking the dashcam.” She paused, but my face became cold.

The last piece of affection crushed under the weight of the words she didn’t say, but I understood very well.

“I was drunk, a….. and I didn’t understand the situation fully well, Ethan.” She stammered, fidgeting with the fur of her coat.

“Yes, you were drunk.” I interrupted her.

She looked at me in a daze.

“You were drunk enough not to hear my pleas for help to unlock the doors and me telling that Mom was trapped inside.” Her expression darkened, but I wasn’t done with her.

“You were drunk enough to believe whatever Mike said and humiliated me in front of all those people and laughed with them in disgust and contempt.”

She tightened her fists.

“You were drunk enough not to see me covered in blood and injuries but sober enough to make me beg on my knees for the surgery f*e.”

“Ethan…”

“Don’t.” I yelled but winced in pain.

She tried to move towards me when I put my hand on my chest.

I gave her a hard look, and she stopped.

It took me several seconds to get my voice back.

“We are done, Sarah.” I said quietly.

“Go home. I will contact you once I will recover enough to go to the city hall with you.”

She stared at me in a daze for a long time before her expression turned grim.

“You still need money for Mom’s surgery, Ethan. You have mooched off on me for three years. Without me, you are nothing.” The venom in her voice almost sent me into a frenzy.

“My mother doesn’t need your charity, Sarah. You can rest assured. Neither I nor my family members will ever ask you for a dime. Keep your money for your boytoy.” I spat, looking away in a fit of rage.

“Ethan! What the f**k is wrong with you? How ….. how could you say something like this for me?” Sarah screamed so loud that all the patients in the room flinched harder.

“Keep your voice, brat. This is the hospital, not your living room,” someone scolded Sarah before I could say something.

I felt embarrassment and looked at that patient apologetically.

“You….” Sarah yelled, but I cut her off.

“Enough. Go home.”

She shot daggers at me through her eyes.

But more than that, she looked shocked.

In three years of our marriage, this was the first time that I raised my voice, insulted her, and didn’t show any indulgence.

Perhaps that was why she stood there staring at me as though she were looking at a stranger.

The woman who had once been able to silence me with a single displeased glance was now struggling to find words to defend herself.

I didn't care anymore.

I had spent three years trying to become the husband she wanted.

I had abandoned my ambitions, swallowed my pride, and convinced myself that my sacrifices were necessary to preserve our marriage.

Whenever she belittled me, I reminded myself that she was under pressure.

Whenever she chose someone else over me, I told myself that I needed to be more understanding.

But when I had been trapped inside a burning car with my mother, begging my wife to save us, Sarah had chosen to believe another man.

And when I had finally managed to escape death, she had made me kneel before her to beg for money to save my mother.

There was nothing left to understand.

"Get out," I repeated, my voice quieter this time.

Sarah's expression hardened.

"Fine. Have it your way." She snatched her sunglasses from the bedside table, where she had placed them earlier.

"But don't come crawling back to me when you realise how difficult life is without my money."

I almost laughed.

She genuinely believed that money was the only thing keeping me tied to her.

Perhaps she had forgotten that I had once been a software developer who had built applications from scratch before I met her.

Perhaps she had convinced herself that the man who had sacrificed his career for their marriage had never possessed any ability worth mentioning.

Or perhaps she had simply never cared enough to remember.

"Don't worry," I told her.

"You won't have to worry about me crawling anywhere near you."

Her lips parted, but I turned my face toward the window.

I had nothing left to say to her.

For several seconds, she remained beside my bed.

I could feel her staring at me, perhaps waiting for me to take back my words or apologise for the things I had said.

I did neither.

Finally, the sharp sound of her heels crossing the floor announced her departure.

The door slammed behind her.

I heard a very familiar chime, but I was too emotional to talk about everything else.

“Mr. Vance?” I slowly moved my gaze towards the door when I heard someone calling me.