The Belittled Husband Now A Trillionaira Boss.

Chapter 10

At that moment, the notification appeared again.

Bright. Cold. Unavoidable.

It hovered right in front of Ethan's eyes, pulsing with quiet insistence, as though it could sense his reluctance and simply did not care.

**MISSION: HELP THEM.**

Ethan's jaw tightened.

For a brief second, annoyance flashed across his face.

He couldn't believe this.

He had already done his part. He had stepped in when he didn't need to. He had saved the young lady's life even after Victoria and Grace had treated him with suspicion, hostility, and open rudeness. He had stabilized her, bought her time, and made it possible for her to survive. As far as he was concerned, that should have been the end of it.

But the system clearly had other plans.

His gaze flicked toward the men surrounding them—the ones with black dragon tattoos curling around their forearms like symbols of death, the ones whose eyes gleamed with murderous intent, the ones who looked as though they would tear apart anyone who stood between them and their target.

And now the system wanted him to interfere even further?

It wanted him to step deeper into a situation that had nothing to do with him in front of armed traitors and gang members who already looked ready to kill.

His expression darkened.

This wasn't just troublesome.

It was dangerous.

And not only for him.

If things escalated here, if he pushed himself into this conflict in full view of everyone, there was every possibility it would create even greater complications later—draw more eyes to him, more enemies, more attention. He had already been through enough today. More than enough. Losing his mother. Carrying her ashes. The encounter at the station. The healing. The chaos. The grief he hadn't even fully allowed himself to process.

And now this.

The system, as always, seemed determined to stack problem upon problem upon problem.

For a moment, Ethan said nothing.

He simply stood there, his face unreadable, his mind moving quickly.

He wanted to walk away.

He truly did.

He wanted to turn around, go back to the bench where he had left his things, pick up the urn containing his mother's ashes, and leave this madness behind. He wanted to board a bus, disappear into the crowd, and pretend none of this had ever happened.

But rules were rules.

The system had made that much clear from the beginning.

And one thing Ethan had already learned was that ignoring it came with consequences he wasn't willing to test.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

Fine.

If he had to interfere, then he would interfere.

But before he could take another step, before he could fully turn back toward the circle of danger forming around Victoria, Grace, and the young lady, a voice suddenly cut through the tension.

Sharp. Hostile. Mocking.

It came from one of the men.

More specifically, from the driver—the same man who had driven Victoria, Grace, and the young lady earlier.

He pointed directly at Ethan, his expression turning ugly as he barked, "And where do you think you're going?"

All eyes shifted instantly.

The atmosphere tightened.

The driver's finger remained locked on Ethan like an accusation.

"We're not done with you just yet," he said, his voice rising. "Where do you think you're going? Where do you think you're actually running to?"

Ethan stopped moving.

His face remained calm, but his eyes hardened slightly.

Before he could answer, another of the men moved closer, narrowing his eyes as he looked Ethan up and down with open suspicion.

The driver spoke again, louder this time, as if making sure everyone around heard him clearly.

"This is the good Samaritan that saved her," he said, jerking his head toward the young lady. "If not for him, she would have been dead already. She wouldn't even be here."

That statement caused an immediate stir among the men.

A few of them exchanged glances.

Some frowned.

Others stared harder at Ethan, as though trying to reassess him completely.

Then the driver added, with a grim edge to his voice, "And the next thing, he was with them. Trying to take her along with us. He was the one that did it."

The implication in his tone was enough to make the hostility around Ethan deepen.

One of the black dragon men stepped forward, his face twisted with suspicion.

He looked Ethan straight in the eye and asked, "Are you some kind of doctor?"

Before Ethan could respond, the driver shook his head almost immediately.

"He's not a doctor," he said with certainty. "That is for sure. He's not a doctor."

His eyes widened slightly, still carrying the memory of what he had witnessed earlier.

"I can categorically tell you that for sure," he continued, voice thick with disbelief. "Because he didn't even use anything to pull out that bullet."

He paused, almost as if the memory still didn't make sense in his own head.

Then he said, slower this time, with emphasis heavy in every word:

"You needed to be there. You needed to see it, how he did it."