Chapter 8 - THE RESCUE
Grace stood frozen, her hands trembling. “Ethan… you shouldn't be here. This is a bad neighborhood.”
“I go where I please,” Ethan replied, stepping into the cramped, freezing apartment. He took off his expensive overcoat and gently draped it over Grace’s shivering shoulders. The warmth and the scent of expensive cologne enveloped her.
“I told you I didn't want anything,” Grace whispered, looking down at the scuffed linoleum floor. “I did what I had to do all those years ago. It wasn't a transaction.”
“I know it wasn't,” Ethan said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a heavy, legal document. “But this is.”
He handed it to her. Grace hesitated before taking the crisp paper. She squinted in the dim light. It was a deed of ownership.
“I bought the building,” Ethan said casually. “And the three buildings next to it. Mr. Henderson is currently being escorted off your property. You are the sole proprietor of this block.”
Grace gasped, dropping the paper as if it burned her. “Ethan, no! I can't accept this! It’s millions of dollars!”
“It’s a fraction of what I owe you,” Ethan countered fiercely. He stepped closer, gently taking her calloused, scarred hands in his. “Grace, you gave me my life. You gave me my future. Because of you, I built skyscrapers. Because of you, I have an empire. And while I was living like a king, you were suffering in the cold because of the injuries you sustained saving me.”
Tears streamed down Grace’s face. “I don't regret it. I would do it again.”
“I know you would,” Ethan smiled, his own eyes shining. “Which is exactly why you are never scrubbing another floor as long as you live.”
Footsteps echoed in the hall again. A distinguished-looking woman with a medical bag stepped into the doorway, accompanied by Marcus.
“Grace,” Ethan said, gesturing to the woman. “This is Dr. Aris Thorne. She is the best orthopedic surgeon in North America. She works exclusively for the Chicago Bulls, but I bought out her contract this morning. She’s going to fix your shoulder. No matter how many surgeries it takes, no matter how long the physical therapy is, I am paying for it all.”
Grace collapsed against the doorframe, sobbing uncontrollably. The fourteen years of pain, of hunger, of humiliation, finally broke out of her. Ethan caught her, wrapping his arms tightly around the woman who had once been his guardian angel in the dark.
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“I’ve got you,” Ethan whispered into her hair. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”
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