The Belittled Husband Now A Trillionaira Boss.

Chapter 6

At that moment he let out a slow breath, then he turned around.

Both women looked at him, startled, as though they had not expected him to come back.

“Step aside,” he said quietly.

The kneeling woman blinked.

“What?”

“Step aside,” Ethan repeated, his tone firmer now. “Let me do this.”

For a moment, neither woman moved.

They simply stared at him, utterly shocked.

The standing woman opened her mouth as if to protest, but the kneeling woman cut her off immediately.

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking with relief. “You have to help her. You're the only help we have right now.”

She shifted to the side, making room.

Up close, the damage was more visible.

The entry wound was clean but deep, just below the ribcage on her left side. Blood had soaked through her shirt and pooled on the floor beneath her. Her breathing was shallow, labored. Her pulse when he placed two fingers lightly against her wrist was weak and thready.

She didn't have much time.

But she could be saved.

If the bullet had hit a vital organ  the liver, the spleen, a major artery she would already be dead or very close to it. The fact that she was still conscious, still breathing, meant the damage was serious but not immediately fatal.

The bullet was still inside her, that was the problem.

Ethan closed his eyes briefly and let his awareness extend inward.

At that moment Ethan opened his eyes, he looked down at the wound.

The bullet had gone deep, but it had missed the vital organs. It was lodged against muscle and connective tissue, causing pain and blood loss but nothing irreversible.

Ethan's hand hovered just above the wound, fingers splayed, palm facing downward.

He did not touch her skin directly.

He did not press, he simply held his hand there, steady and still, and let the energy flow.

It was subtle at first so faint that if someone had been watching closely, they might have mistaken it for a trick of the light. A faint shimmer in the air between his palm and the woman's body. A barely visible ripple, like heat rising from asphalt on a summer day.

But it was there, spiritual energy. With the acupuncture needle

Controlled. Precise. Carefully directed into the wound.

Immediately the injured woman's body jerked suddenly, her hands flying up to clutch at Ethan's wrist.

Her grip was weak, but desperate.

Her eyes were still closed, her face twisted in pain, but her fingers dug into his arm as though she were trying to hold onto something solid in the middle of drowning.

At that moment  Victoria gasped sharply.

“What the hell is going on?” she said, her voice climbing. “What are you doing to her? Stop — what are you—”

Immediately Grace whipped around and grabbed her arm.

“Calm down,” she hissed. “Let him work. This is the only chance we have right now. Stop disturbing him.”

Hearing Grace words, Victoria mouth opened as if to protest again, but the look on the kneeling woman's face stopped her cold.

She swallowed whatever she had been about to say and went silent.

Ethan ignored them both, his focus was entirely inward now, his awareness extended deep into the injured woman's body through the thread of spiritual energy he had sent into the wound.

He could feel it, the bullet.

Lodged against the back wall of muscle tissue, pressing into the connective fibers but not piercing through. It had stopped just short of the internal organs close enough to be dangerous, but far enough to give her a chance.

His energy wrapped around it carefully, slowly, like fingers closing around something fragile.

Then he began to pull, not with his hand.

With his will and the Acupuncture niddle with the help of the system and with the controlled flow of spiritual energy that responded to intention as easily as a limb responded to thought.

The bullet shifted, slowly at first.

Then faster.

Ethan's hand made a small, deliberate gesture a subtle upward motion, barely more than a twitch of his fingers.

And the bullet moved with it.

Out, through the wound channel.

Back along the path it had torn on entry.

At that moment Victoria and Grace  did not understand what they were seeing.

All they saw was Ethan's hand moving slightly, his expression calm and focused, his breathing steady.

And then—The bullet popped free.

It came out cleanly, propelled by the same invisible force that had pulled it, and clattered onto the tile floor beside the injured woman with a sharp metallic *ping*.

Both women's eyes went wide.

Immediately Grace mouth fell open.

Victoria made a choked sound in the back of her throat, as though something had just punched the air out of her lungs.

Because they had not seen him touch the wound.

They had not seen him use tools expect acupuncture needles.

They had not seen anything except his hand hovering above the injury and then a small, effortless gesture.

And the bullet had simply... come out, but that was not the end of it.

The moment the bullet was free, blood began to flow again.

Not a trickle, a gush.

Dark red, almost black in the harsh fluorescent light of the station, spilling out of the wound in a sudden, frightening surge.

The kneeling woman gasped and moved instinctively to press her hands back over the injury, but Ethan's other hand shot out and stopped her.

“Don't,” he said quietly.

She froze.

Ethan's hand returned to its position above the wound.

This time, his fingers curled slightly inward, as though he were holding something invisible between his palm and her body.

Then he made another gesture.

Slower this time, as though someone had turned off a faucet.

The flow ceased mid-stream, the dark red liquid halting at the edge of the wound and then receding slightly, pulled back by something unseen.

The kneeling woman stared, the standing woman took an involuntary step backward, her hand flying to her mouth.

Because what they were watching was not natural.

It was not medical, It was something else entirely. 

Ethan's spiritual energy spread across the wound like a second skin, invisible to ordinary sight but unmistakably present in effect. It sealed the torn tissue, knit the damaged muscle fibers back together just enough to hold, and stopped the internal bleeding with the kind of precision no scalpel or suture could achieve.

The injured woman's breathing changed, It was still shallow, still labored, but no longer ragged.

No longer desperate.

Her pulse, which had been fading under Ethan's fingers moments ago, began to stabilize.

Her face, pale and slick with sweat, regained the faintest hint of color.

She was still in pain Ethan could feel that through the connection of energy but she was no longer dying.

He held the energy in place for a few seconds longer, making sure the internal damage was stable, making sure nothing would tear loose the moment he withdrew.

Then, slowly, carefully, he pulled his hand back.

The shimmer in the air faded, the connection broke.

At that moment Ethan stood.

For a long moment, no one moved.

The two women stared at the injured woman on the floor.

Then at the bullet lying beside her.

Then at Ethan, then back at the woman.

Her breathing was steady now.

The blood had stopped.

The wound still visible, still raw — was no longer bleeding.

The kneeling woman's hands trembled as she reached out slowly, hesitantly, and touched the edge of the injury with her fingertips.

No fresh blood.

At that moment she looked up at Ethan, her eyes wide with something that looked like shock and awe and terror all mixed together.

Immediately Victoria voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Did it... did it work?”

Again Grace swallowed hard.

“Could it be...”she said slowly, as though testing the words before she fully believed them, “that he's actually one of those... Divine doctors?”