There's One Thing I Like About Him

Chapter 4

I made sure he was dead. I had to be sure.

Trisha

We arrived at the hospital in a blur of sirens and flashing lights. The paramedics quickly unloaded Ethan and rushed him into the emergency room. I tried to follow, but they stopped me at the door. "You can't go in," one of them said firmly.

Left alone in the cold, sterile hallway, I felt my strength draining away. My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone, dialing Alexa's number with trembling fingers. "Have you reached Ethan's parents?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't be here alone, Alexa. I don't think I can handle this by myself." The fear of waiting for news about Ethan's condition threatened to consume me.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, pulling me out of my daze.

"Where's my son?" a man's voice demanded at the receptionist's desk. I looked up, catching sight of a man who seemed far too ordinary to be Ethan's father—dressed simply, with none of the airs of wealth.

A woman beside him glanced in my direction, her eyes locking onto mine. She walked over to me, her expression etched with worry. She must be Ethan's mother.

"What happened, dear? What happened to my son?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear. I opened my mouth to answer, but the words caught in my throat. How could I explain something I could hardly comprehend myself? This felt like something out of a telenovela, not real life.

"I—I'm s-sorry," I stammered, my gaze dropping to the floor. I had nothing to offer her but apologies.

Alexa nudged me, her voice firm. "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything wrong." But before I could respond, the doctor emerged from the emergency room.

"Doctor, how's my son?" Ethan's father asked, his voice thick with worry. The doctor hesitated before answering.

"He needs surgery immediately," he said, his tone grave. "There's a blood clot forming on the left side of his brain. If we don't operate soon, it could lead to serious complications or..." He trailed off, the weight of his next word too heavy to utter.

"Or what?" Ethan's mother demanded, her voice rising in panic.

"Death," the doctor finally said. "I know this is incredibly difficult to hear, but we're doing everything we can. Time is critical. We're preparing the operating room now, and I'll keep you informed as we proceed. Please, try to stay calm for your son's sake."

Ethan's mother swayed on her feet, as if she might faint. Her husband caught her, holding her close as she struggled to comprehend the doctor's words. Ethan was their only child, the heir to A Tech Group of Companies. The thought of losing him was unthinkable.

"Doctor, please, do whatever it takes to save our son," Ethan's father pleaded, his voice breaking. "He means everything to us. Whatever the cost, just save him." The doctor didn't reply, only nodded grimly before summoning his team to move Ethan to the operating room.

۝

Four hours crawled by, each one stretching into an eternity as we waited for any news from the operating room. Anxiety weighed heavily on us, our prayers mingling with the sterile scent of the hospital.

"What really happened to our son?" Ethan's father asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to relive the moment. "We were crossing the street, heading back to the office," I began, my voice trembling. "Ethan was on the other side of the lane. The light turned green, and just as we were about to cross, a car came out of nowhere, speeding. We watched as Ethan—" My voice caught in my throat, and I felt the tears welling up again. Alexa wrapped her arm around me, offering silent support.

"It was a hit-and-run," Alexa added, her voice steady where mine faltered. "The car didn't even have a visible plate number, so we couldn't identify it. We've already reported it to the police. They're investigating now." I was grateful for her presence, for her strength when mine was failing.

"Who could do something like this to our son?" Ethan's mother asked, her brows furrowed in anguish. "Did he have any enemies? Competitors? Anyone at work?" She looked at me, searching for answers, but I had none to give. Ethan had his moments of temper, sure—pressure from competitors could do that to anyone—but he was fair and treated all of us equally. He was a good boss. Who would want to harm him?

"Oh, my poor child," she cried, her voice filled with a grief that tore through the room. Her tears fell freely, each one a testament to the unbearable pain of a mother watching her son teeter on the edge of life and death. In those moments, I felt the full weight of her sorrow, the kind that only a parent can know. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime, the fear and uncertainty growing heavier with each tick of the clock.

Ethan's father held her tightly, his own face a mask of helplessness.

"The person who did this to our son must pay," he said, his voice thick with barely controlled rage. "I'll never forgive them. Never."