Ethan brushed off the weird feeling in his chest. "I'll have the contract drawn up," he said coldly, "That way, you'll feel more secure about everything."
Abigail gave a slow nod, her shoulders finally lowering as exhaustion seeped into her bones.
Ethan noticed. His eyes lingered on her tired frame. "You should rest." He turned and looked at Ian and gave a small signal. Ian nodded and stepped towards Abigail with a smirk, "Let's go, Miss Pretend Wife," he said lightly. "Time for your beauty sleep."
Abigail gave a faint hum in response and followed Ian out of the room, her footsteps light but hesitant. As the door shut behind them, Ethan turned toward the tall window. He picked up his untouched glass of whiskey and took a slow sip. "Keep looking for Vanessa," he said coldly, his voice low but firm. "I want her found. No excuses."
"Yes, sir," the guards replied in unison.
Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and a sigh left his lips. "Out," he ordered coldly. The guards left in a rush, like they couldn't escape fast enough.
Once he was all alone, he answered. "Grandpa, why are you still up? Didn't the doctor tell you to get more rest?"
From the other end, an aged voice crackled out, full of life and stubborn pride. "Rest? Bah! I've survived worse and still made it to breakfast," the old man scoffed. "Don't you start babying me now, boy."
Ethan's lips twitched. "Still, it wouldn't kill you to sleep on time."
"I'll sleep when I'm dead!" Grandpa barked. "Now, where's Nessie? I haven't spoken to her in days."
Ethan paused. "She's sleeping."
"Hmph," Grandpa grunted. "You said that yesterday. And the day before that! I may be old, but I'm not senile. Why hasn't she picked up my calls? Don't tell me you lost my granddaughter-in-law."
Ethan froze for a beat, then recovered. "Her phone got stolen," he lied smoothly, silently cursing how right his grandfather was.
"And what, you couldn't buy her another one? You're a billionaire, Ethan! You could buy her the entire phone company!" Grandpa growled. "What are you doing with all that money anyway—building a golden spaceship to sulk on the moon? Or funding a dating app for emotionally constipated billionaires?"
Ethan sighed. "Grandpa…"
"Don't 'Grandpa' me! Give her your phone. I want to talk to her. Now."
"She's asleep," Ethan said again, a little firmer this time. "And you know how much she loves her beauty sleep. She'll kill me if I wake her..."
"Don't give me that nonsense!" the old man cut in. "That girl used to stay up all night reading novels. Now suddenly she's snoring at nine like an old hen? Who are you fooling?"
Ethan took a deep breath and pinched his nose. "Fine. I am not at home."
There was a silence on the phone on the other side, and then, his grandfather exploded. "What? You left her alone?! You cold-hearted brat! What kind of honeymoon is that? This was your chance to spend time with her, take her out, fall in love—"
"You wanted me to marry her, and I did," Ethan interrupted flatly. "Don't ask for more."
"That marriage was supposed to mean something!" Grandpa snapped. "She's your wife now. Start treating her like one."
Ethan stared out the window, saying nothing.
His grandfather's tone softened. "Look, Ethan… Nessie's a good girl. I've known her since she was a child. There's kindness in her, and fire too, just like your grandmother. You may not see it now, but if you let her in, you might actually find what you crave deep down.... a home."
Ethan froze. "Grandpa… I need to go."
A sigh came from the other end. "One day, you'll understand what I'm saying. You'll look back and wonder how you ever got so lucky…"
Lucky? Ethan clenched his jaw.
He didn't feel lucky. He didn't love Vanessa. He never had. They hated each other. If it weren't for Grandpa's illness and the fact that the old man adored Venessa, he would have never married that arrogant, snobbish woman.
"I am ending the call," his grandfather said, "but I want to speak to my granddaughter-in-law tomorrow. Or else, I'm taking the next flight over there and crashing your honeymoon. Don't test me. You know I will."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know."
"And don't try that cold act on me. It doesn't work. Take care of her. And for heaven's sake, stop acting like a tax form, so stiff and impossible to understand."
"Goodnight, grandpa."
"Good night, boy. Tell Nessie her grandpa misses her voice."
"I will," Ethan said quietly.
The line went dead. Ethan stayed still for a moment, staring at the moon outside. A heavy sigh escaped him. He raised the glass to his lips, then set it down without drinking. He had to find Vanessa soon, or make sure Abigail became her before anyone else found out the truth.
Meanwhile, Ian led Abigail down the quiet hallway. His usual smirk had softened, and his steps were slower than usual, as if he didn't want her to trip while following the sound of his movement.
He opened the guest room door and stepped aside. "Here we are," he said gently. "This will be your room."
Abigail stepped inside slowly. The air smelled faintly of lavender and clean linen.
Ian cleared his throat and began to describe, "Alright, let me paint the picture for you. Straight ahead, there's a king-sized bed, soft as a cloud, so don't blame me if you oversleep. To your left, there is a wide window with blackout curtains, but they're drawn for now. To the right side of the bed, there is a nightstand with a small, silver bell."
"If you need anything, anything at all, just ring that, or call out. I will hear it or someone will."
Abigail turned her head in his direction and gave a small, grateful nod. "Thank you."
He paused, noticing how tightly she was still holding the blanket around her shoulders. Without saying anything, he crossed the room, opened the wardrobe, and pulled out a folded set of clothes.
He walked back to her, gently placing the clothes into her hands. "These were Vanessa's," he said, his tone respectful now. "You can change into them."
Abigail clutched the soft fabric and whispered, "Thank you, Ian."
He gave a short nod and stepped back toward the door. "I'll leave you to rest then."
Just as he reached for the doorknob, Abigail's voice stopped him. "Wait."
He turned around. "Do you need something?"
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "A phone," she said. "I need to call the hospital… I just—I need to know if my father's okay."
Ian stared at her for a second longer, surprised, not because she asked, but because of how calmly she held herself despite everything she'd been through. Without a word, he pulled his phone from his pocket and walked it over to her. "Here," he said, placing it gently in her hand. "Take your time."
Abigail's fingers trembled slightly as she held the device. "Thank you."
Ian nodded, turned, and left the room, closing the door behind him.