Chapter 11
Ethan had never seen Claire like this.
A prick like a needle shot through his heart.
She was clever—she had seen through his ploy.
But there was no changing his choice.
He could only save Lana first.
“He doesn’t love me. Don’t believe him,”
Claire tried to say—but it came out a muffled string of sounds beneath the tape.
Annoyed, Fenton slapped her again, then kicked her to the floor.
Before everyone’s eyes, he straddled her.
Claire couldn’t move.
He tore at her clothes with both hands.
A wrenching rip—the jacket split; the zipper skittered away.
Ethan roared like a madman.
“Fenton, I beg you—don’t touch her!”
Red rimmed his eyes with tears.
It had to be said—Ethan’s acting was convincing.
He fooled both Fenton and Lana.
Fenton ordered his men to hold up the phone for a live‑streamed degradation.
Claire stared at Ethan in despair, tears falling like rain.
Inside she howled:
{Ethan Vance, why are you doing this to me?}
{I saved your life, and you want me to take the knife for the woman you love—why?}
{Ethan Vance, do you have no heart?}
Her silent screams thundered only in her own head.
She writhed, trying to stop Fenton’s hands—
uselessly.
Her jacket was rags.
Her blouse yanked open.
Her jeans dragged below her knees.
Half‑naked, she lay on the cold floor.
Dozens of eyes crawled over her skin.
For a moment, she thought death would be easier.
Despair and humiliation drowned every urge to live.
Fenton’s hand clawed for her bra——when engines roared outside and boots pounded.
A surge of men in black stormed in and surrounded Fenton’s crew.
After a brutal fight, Fenton’s men were subdued.
Ethan sprinted straight to Lana.
“Lana, are you hurt?”
Lana looked at him—and slapped him hard.
His head snapped to the side.
“Ethan, isn’t that bitch the one you love most? Why save me? Go save her!”
“If you chose her, then my baby and I might as well die!”
She sobbed louder. “If you don’t love me, I’d rather be dead.”
Ethan pulled her into his arms, aching for her.
“My heart, you’re the one I love. I said those things on purpose.
Otherwise Fenton would have targeted you.”
Patiently, he explained.
Only when Lana glanced at Claire—who looked shattered—did she believe him.
Yes—only this way would Fenton shift his focus onto Claire.
“Ethan Vance, you’re despicable—your acting almost fooled me,” Fenton snarled from the floor, trussed up.
“You’re just too stupid,” Ethan said with a mocking glance.
Then he lifted Lana in his arms.
“Come on. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Someone set Claire free.
Shaking, she gathered what was left of her clothes.
Her jacket and blouse were ruined.
She could barely cover herself.
Her face was swollen; pinching marks ringed her throat—
the worst from when she fought hardest and Fenton choked her.
Tears soaked her temples.
She still hadn’t climbed out of despair.
Every ounce of strength was gone.
She could hardly lift her hands.
Worse—her belly hurt. Badly.
The fright, the struggle—
even if she’d wanted this baby, it might not survive.
Pain curled her body tight.
As Ethan carried Lana past,
Claire clawed weakly at his pant leg.
“It hurts… it hurts… help me…”
Speaking made the cramps sharper.
Blood spilled between her thighs, soaking the jeans she’d just yanked up.
“Ethan… save… our… baby…”
Her voice was so faint a breath could scatter it.
Ethan didn’t catch it. His step faltered.
Seeing Claire on the floor like a broken rag doll, his heart jerked hard.
Her eyes—were filled with the will to live.
“Honey, my belly hurts,”
Lana cried softly against his neck.
Ethan dragged his gaze away and hurried on.
“Don’t be afraid, Lana.”
As he carried Lana away,
the last of Claire’s hope died.
The world blacked out. Her eyes slid shut.
Blood loss swallowed her consciousness.
In the end, it was Ethan’s assistant who couldn’t stand it—
and sent her to the hospital.
