“Mr. Carter left about four hours ago,” she said carefully. “He said… he was overwhelmed. That he couldn’t bear to see her like this. He said he needed to go pray.”
“Pray?” Henry repeated, the word sharp with disbelief.
She nodded. “He mentioned the cathedral. And a spiritual advisor.”
Henry let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening.
“He left his wife here to die… and he’s praying?”
The nurse lowered her eyes. “That’s what he said.”
For a moment, anger surged through him—but Henry forced it down. He had spent a lifetime mastering control. Rage, when used correctly, wasn’t explosive.
It was precise.
He pulled out his phone, his hands steady now, his mind already shifting into something colder, more focused.
He called Ethan.
The phone rang several times before it was answered.
“Hello, Mr. Collins,” Ethan said, his voice too calm, too polished.
“I’m at the hospital,” Henry said flatly. “Your wife is alone. Where are you?”
A pause.
“Oh… it’s just… it’s a lot,” Ethan replied, forcing a tremor into his voice. “I couldn’t handle it. I’m praying for her.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. Behind Ethan’s voice, he heard music—loud, pulsing bass—and the faint clink of glasses.
“Are you at the cathedral?” Henry asked quietly.
“Yes. It’s peaceful here,” Ethan said quickly. “I’m praying for Vanessa.”
Henry didn’t raise his voice.
“I’m at the hospital,” he repeated. “The chair is empty. Where are you?”
Another pause.
Then the truth slipped out.
“I’m at the marina,” Ethan admitted. “I needed… people around me.”
Henry ended the call without another word.
The anger inside him had transformed.
It wasn’t fire.
It was ice.
And it burned far more dangerously.
Within minutes, Henry’s network was already moving. Old contacts, loyal employees, people who owed him favors—he didn’t need to ask twice.
Ethan’s location was confirmed.
The yacht—Henry’s gift to Vanessa for her anniversary—was docked at the marina.
And it was full.
Music. Lights. Laughter.
A party.
Henry watched the live drone feed as if it were just another acquisition report.
There was Ethan—smiling, holding a glass of champagne, surrounded by friends… and another woman.
While his wife lay unconscious.
“Enjoy it,” Henry murmured under his breath. “Because it’s the last night you’ll ever have like this.”
Before he could act further, a surgeon rushed toward him.