He walked over and cracked the door open.
He didn’t even get a word out.
The door slammed inward with force.
Ethan burst inside.
Tall. Solid. The kind of presence that filled the entire room.
His eyes scanned everything in seconds—
The stick.
Me on the floor.
The blood on my leg.
My hands protecting my stomach.
Then silence.
He didn’t shout.
Didn’t threaten.
He only asked one thing.
—Who did this?
Ryan stepped forward, trying to act tough.
—This is my house. You better leave before—
He didn’t finish.
Ethan hit him.
One clean punch.
Ryan crashed into the table, sending dishes shattering across the floor.
Heather screamed.
—YOU’RE INSANE!
Derek rushed forward.
Ethan shoved him back into the wall like he weighed nothing.
—Don’t.
Nicole dropped her phone.
Ethan turned to me.
He knelt down beside me carefully.
—Hey… hey, look at me.
I forced my eyes open.
—Ethan…
The moment he saw the bruises on my leg, his face hardened.
—He hit you?
I barely nodded.
Silence again.
Heavy. Final.
Ethan exhaled slowly, then pulled out his phone.
—911. I need an ambulance and officers. Domestic assault. Pregnant victim.
Heather snapped:
—This is a family issue!
Ethan looked up at her, his gaze cold and steady.