The Belittled Husband Now A Trillionaira Boss.

Chapter 5

At that moment, accompanying what the young mistress just said, Victoria's jaw tightened.

She couldn't believe what she had just heard.

She really wanted them to allow this... this goofy, poorly-looking thing whose body looked like it hadn't seen soap or water in days to touch the young miss?

He looked like somebody who had literally just crawled out from inside a gutter.

Soaked to the bone. Hair plastered to his face. Clothes hanging off him like wet rags.

This was the kind of person the young miss wanted them to depend on? Even though Victoria knew the young miss was in pain dying, even—she couldn't stop herself.

She leaned down close to the young woman's ear and whispered urgently, her voice tight with barely restrained panic.

“Miss, the ambulance is going to be here very, very soon. They're on their way. I would prefer we wait for them than to give this... this good-for-nothing thing any avenue to even touch you.”

At that moment her eyes flicked toward Ethan, cold and suspicious.

“I'm sure he's one of them,” she continued, her whisper sharp and insistent. 

“Yes, I'm very, very sure he's one of them. How else would he know what was wrong with you? He didn't even examine you. He just looked and knew. That's not normal. He has to be involved.”

Grace, still kneeling beside the young miss, shot Victoria a sharp look.

“We shouldn't judge,” she said quietly but firmly. “If anyone can help the young miss at this crucial time, then we should give it a try. We don't have the luxury of waiting.”

Victoria opened her mouth to argue, her face flushing with anger.

But before she could say anything, the young miss spoke again.

Her voice was weaker this time. Strained. Barely more than a whisper.

But the words cut through the air like a blade.

“Let him try.”

The pain in her voice was unmistakable. Every syllable cost her. But her tone was final.

Grace's eyes widened. She nodded quickly, her expression shifting from doubt to determination.

“No problem, young miss,” she said. Then she turned sharply toward the security guards who were still blocking Ethan's path.

“Allow him in,” she said. “Immediately.”

The guards hesitated for only a second, glancing at Victoria for confirmation.

But when Grace repeated herself—her voice rising with urgency they stepped aside.

Ethan moved forward, his footsteps quiet against the pavement.

As he approached, Victoria's gaze locked onto him like a predator watching prey.

Her eyes were cold. Deadly. Filled with barely concealed hostility.

She didn't move out of the way. She just stood there, staring him down, her jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.

Then she spoke, her voice low and venomous.

“Just pray,” she said. “Just pray that whatever little thing you're planning to do actually works.”

Ethan said nothing. He simply knelt down beside the young miss, his expression calm and focused.

Victoria's eyes followed his every movement. Then she spoke again, louder this time, her tone dripping with contempt.

“Where's your medical equipment?” she demanded. “What are you going to use to pull the bullet out of her body? What tools do you have? Or are you planning to dig it out with your bare hands?”

Again Ethan didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the young miss, his hand hovering just above the wound.

“That's none of your business,” he said quietly.

Victoria's eyes flashed with anger. “Excuse me?”

“But just for clarity,” Ethan continued, his tone even, “this is going to be acupuncture.”

The words hung in the air for a moment.

Both women stared at him, grace's eyes widened in surprise.

Victoria's face twisted with disbelief and fury.

“Acupuncture?” Victoria repeated, her voice climbing. “Did you just say acupuncture?”

Ethan didn't respond.

“Acupuncture?” Victoria said again, louder this time, as though saying it again would make the absurdity of it more obvious. 

“You mean that ancient... ancient healing method? That outdated, primitive practice that no real doctor uses anymore?”

Her voice was filled with scorn now, dripping with contempt.

“You're telling me you're going to save the young miss who has a bullet lodged inside her body, who's lost half her blood, who's on the verge of death with acupuncture?”

She let out a short, bitter laugh.

“This is insane. This is absolutely insane.”

Grace looked uncertain now, her eyes flicking between Ethan and the young miss.

But Ethan didn't say anything. He didn't argue. He didn't try to defend himself, because he knew something they didn't.

The system screen was still hovering in his vision, glowing faintly. And the instructions were clear.

[METHOD: ACUPUNCTURE.]

[TOOLS REQUIRED: ACUPUNCTURE NEEDLES.]

Ethan had never done this before. He wasn't a doctor. He had no medical training. He had never performed acupuncture in his life.

But the confidence rising inside him was undeniable.

It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't bravado, It was something else. Something deeper.

The system wouldn't let him fail. It wouldn't let him say no.

And more than that he could feel it now. The knowledge. The precision. The certainty of what needed to be done, It was like the information had been downloaded directly into his brain.

He knew where to place the needles. He knew how deep to go. He knew which meridian points would stop the bleeding, stabilize her vitals, and keep her alive long enough for the bullet to be removed.

He knew, but there was one problem.

He didn't have any acupuncture needles.

For a brief moment, doubt flickered through his mind.

And then the system screen flashed again.

[ACUPUNCTURE NEEDLES PROVIDED.]

Ethan blinked, he didn't question it. He didn't hesitate.

Instead, he reached into his pocket, his hand moving smoothly, naturally, as though he'd done this a thousand times before.

And when his fingers closed around something cold and metallic, he felt a faint surge of relief.

The needles were there.

He pulled them out slowly, his movements deliberate, and held them up in the dim light of the station.

A set of thin, gleaming acupuncture needles. Perfectly balanced. Perfectly sharp.

Both Grace and Victoria stared at him in stunned silence.

Grace's mouth fell open slightly.

Victoria's eyes narrowed, her expression shifting from contempt to suspicion.

“Where did you—” she started.

But she didn't finish, because she didn't know what to say.

She had seen him reach into his pocket. She had seen him pull the needles out. But something about it felt... wrong. Off.

Like he shouldn't have had them. Like they shouldn't have been there.

But they were, and now he was holding them.

Victoria's face flushed with anger again. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.

“Just pray,” she said, her eyes locked on his. “Just pray that nothing goes wrong with the young miss.”

At that moment she leaned in even closer, her voice barely audible now, but filled with venom.

“Because if anything happens to her if she dies, if her situation gets worsen further before real help comes, if you make even the slightest mistake—your entire family will be wiped out. Your entire lineage. Every single person you've ever cared about. I will make sure of it.”