The Husband They Threw Away Runs This Town Now

CHAPTER 11 — Old Ghosts

Only the beeping monitors and rain sounds broke the silence in Manhattan General Hospital's private wing.

Water dripped from Erick's hair as he walked down the corridor in his wet black suit. The nurses at the reception desk glanced at him but said nothing. He didn't look important. 

That was the point.

Leroy and Evelyn waited outside Victor's room with two bodyguards. 

"What are you doing here?" Evelyn snapped.

Erick ignored her and reached for the door.

Leroy stepped forward, trying to sound reasonable. "Victor's condition is unstable. Maybe we should postpone this—"

"I'm not here to talk," Erick said.

He opened the door and went inside. The bodyguards didn't try to stop him.

The room smelled of disinfectant. Victor Hale lay limp in the hospital bed, tubes attached to his chest. When he saw Erick, his face was ashen.

“Well,” Victor hissed, “either I’m dying… or Manhattan’s starting to see ghosts.”

Erick closed the door behind him. “You look terrible.”

Victor let out a chuckle that turned into a cough. “Five years dead, and that’s your greeting?”

Erick pulled out a chair and sat down. For a moment, the silence was full of everything they had experienced, like the long nights working on Gerard Dominion, the instant noodles in the cold warehouse, and the trust that was like family.

“You replaced me quickly,” Erick said quietly.

Victor looked away. “You disappeared. Everyone thought you were dead.”

“You signed his death warrant.”

Victor sighed. “I thought I was protecting the company.”

“You sold it to the Laurents. To Leroy. To Clarke.”

Victor’s eyes flickered with embarrassment, but he didn’t deny it.

“You rid Dominique because of Leroy,” he said suddenly.

Erick didn’t answer.

Victor studied Erick for a long moment, then laughed tiredly. “Oh my God. You really are Lawrence’s son.”

The monitor beeped continuously between them.

“You endured five years of their mistreatment,” Victor muttered. “You washed Michel's shoes. Dominique paraded you around like a servant.” He shook his head. “A weaker person would have burned that family down in a few weeks.”

“I watched,” Erick said.

Victor’s expression changed. He understood what it truly meant.

“You could have finished them off at any time,” he said.

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Erick stared out the rain-slicked window. “Because Leroy wasn’t the only problem.”

Victor paused. He understood.

After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice low. “You knew they’d come looking for you now. Especially after they realized who you really were.”

“I knew.”

Victor smiled faintly, almost sadly. “And you still went into that ballroom.”

Erick stood slowly. “They buried me once. I wanted to see if they could do it twice.”

He headed for the door.

“Quade,” Victor called weakly.

Erick stopped.

The old man looked at him with something almost like regret. “Your father would be proud of what you’ve built,” he said. “But he would be afraid of the person you are now.”

Erick didn’t turn around. “Good,” he said quietly, then left the room.

The door clicked shut behind Erick. 

He leaned against the wall for a second, letting the hospital's antiseptic smell ground him before facing the others. When he stepped into the corridor, his shoulders slumped just slightly - the unconscious posture shift of someone returning to their assigned role.

"Jesus Christ, Erick," Leroy muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. "How bad is it?"

"Bad." Erick tugged at his too-tight collar. "Didn't even know Victor had heart problems."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. She'd seen the way Victor had recoiled from him minutes earlier, but now Erick just looked like... Erick. The same awkward son-in-law who was great at fixing broken things and they'd all dismissed for years.

Footsteps interrupted them. Dominique rounded the corner, Martin Clarke practically glued to her side. His fingers laced with hers, a bold move for a best friend. 

Erick noticed Dominique's smudged eyeliner first. Then the way Martin's smile didn't reach his eyes. Corporate predator mode. Charming.

"Erick?" Dominique stopped short. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting my father-in-law's friend and honored guest." He shrugged. "Wild concept."

Martin stepped forward, oozing fake concern. "Victor's not some small-time client you can chat up. You shouldn't—"

"…bother rich people when they're dying?" Erick finished mildly. "Noted."

Leroy coughed. Evelyn rolled her eyes. Dominique surprised everyone by grabbing Erick's wrist. "Grandma wants to see you."

Erick looked down at her manicured nails digging into his skin. "Last time your family 'invited' me somewhere, I woke up in a hotel room missing six hours."

Dominique flinched. Good. She remembered that night too.

Martin bristled. "Let her go." 

Erick wiggled his wrist free easily. "She's holding me, genius." 

Dominique retreated to Martin's side like she'd been burned. Interesting.

Evelyn snapped first. "Enough. Tonight's been embarrassing enough without…."

"…without me existing?" Erick finished. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

He studied them then: Leroy's nervous fidgeting, Evelyn's barely-contained disgust, and Martin's predatory stance. Dominique, however, was staring at him as if she'd never seen him before.

Five years of this bullshit. 

Five years of pretending.

"Divorce papers will be ready Monday," he said casually, like mentioning lunch plans.

Dominique’s face drained of color.

Leroy blinked. “What?”

Evelyn looked almost offended. “You think you’re the one ending this marriage?”

Martin’s arm tightened around Dominique possessively, but his eyes stayed locked on Erick now. Watching. Calculating.

Only Erick remained calm.

“Five years is enough,” he said simply. “You all wanted rid of me anyway.”

Dominique opened her mouth, then stopped.

Because that was the horrifying part.

He was right.

Before anyone could respond, frantic footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Michel burst around the corner looking completely ruined.

His tuxedo was soaked from rain and smeared with dirt. One sleeve had ripped open near the shoulder. He looked less like a wealthy Laurent heir and more like a man who had just escaped a car wreck.

“Dad!”

Everyone turned.

Michel barely noticed Erick standing there.

His breathing was ragged. Panic radiated from him.

“Victor’s finished,” he blurted out. “The board just froze all GD Tech executive access.” He swallowed hard. “Nobody can reach the central accounts.”

Leroy frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Michel looked genuinely terrified now.

“The shareholders are panicking. Someone leaked internal founder verification files.” His eyes darted wildly between them. “The real founder … is alive.”