The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 218: She is sick

Chapter 218: She is sick

Maria-Isabel’s voice had thinned to a whisper, barely audible over the low hum of the flickering ceiling light.

"I begged him, Ethan," she said, trembling. "I got on my knees and begged him to let me call for help. I told him—promised him—I’d sign my trust fund over. Every cent. I would disappear, give him everything if he just... let me go."

She paused, breathing like someone who’d been underwater too long.

"But he said no. He said he didn’t need my money—he needed control. He said he was going to take Isabella from me. That I didn’t deserve her. That I was broken. Just like my mother."

Her eyes were wide, rimmed with red. Haunted.

"I tried to stop him. To reason with him. And that’s when he hit me."

Ethan stiffened, fists clenched on the table, his entire body holding back rage.

"I... I gave in," she continued, voice almost childlike. "I agreed to whatever he wanted. Just to keep him calm. Just so he wouldn’t touch her again. He dragged the body, wrapped it in a blanket. Hid it in the fridge. Like it was nothing."

She pressed her hand to her mouth, as if trying to hold back the memory.

"Then he came back. I was giving Isabella her medicine—she was sick that day, burning up—and he thought I was calling the police. He lost it. Threw the phone. Punched a hole in the wall."

Her breath caught, shoulders shaking now.

"I didn’t fight back. I didn’t scream. I just tried to protect her. I told her to stay under the table, but she cried. She cried, Ethan. And he—"

She stopped.

Ethan’s voice broke through the silence, low and guttural. "He hit her."

Maria nodded slowly, tears pouring now, uncontrollable. "He hit my baby girl. She fell. I thought—God—I thought she had stopped breathing. I couldn’t breathe. I saw red. I saw the knife. And I... I..."

She shook her head violently, gripping her temples.

"I don’t remember the rest."

There was silence. Long, suffocating silence.

Then Ethan, voice thick with his own tears, whispered, "You made him pay."

Maria’s eyes met his—wounded, wild, afraid.

He swallowed hard. "Yes. You snapped. I know you did. But, Maria... you stabbed him multiple times."

Her hands trembled.

"He was unconscious, maybe already dead," Ethan continued gently. "You could’ve taken your daughter and run. But you didn’t."

She flinched like he’d struck her.

"There’s something you’re not telling me," he said, his voice still calm but firmer now. "Something you saw... something that made you stay. What was it?"

Maria looked away.

"Was it guilt?" he asked. "Was it fear? Did he say something—did he do something before he passed out?"

She clutched her chest, almost as if something were physically lodged there, refusing to come out. "I—"

He reached for her hand again. This time, more firmly. More intimately.

"You have to tell me. I need to know what happened between the moment you saw him fall... and the moment you picked up that knife. Please, Maria."

Her lips parted.

"I thought she was dead," she whispered.

Ethan’s heart skipped.

"I thought Isabella was dead," she said again, brokenly. "I couldn’t hear her breathing. She wasn’t moving. I thought... he took her from me. And I lost it."

Her voice cracked.

"I didn’t stab him to stop him, Ethan. I stabbed him because I wanted to erase him. For everything he did. To me. To her. For every time I stayed silent. I didn’t just want him to die—I wanted him to suffer."

The words stunned the air.

Maria collapsed into herself, covering her face. "What kind of mother does that?"

Ethan got up.

He walked around the table, and though the guards shifted behind the glass, they didn’t stop him.

He knelt beside her.

And for the first time since this all began, Maria didn’t push him away.

"You’re a mother who broke," he said, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. "And I’ve known men who killed for far less."

Maria leaned into him, barely able to stay upright. "I didn’t know if she was alive, Ethan. And when she started crying... when I heard her voice after after-after everything—I collapsed. I held her for hours on that bloody floor."

He nodded, holding her now.

"No. I don’t want to undergo any tests," Maria said firmly, her voice slicing through the charged silence between her and Ethan.

Ethan opened his mouth to reason with her, but before he could speak again, the door creaked open. Officer April stepped in, followed by Rafael—his expression unreadable, eyes darker than usual. He carried a manila file in one hand, his badge swinging slightly from his belt.

"Rafa?" Ethan said, straightening. His voice laced with confusion and irritation. "What are you doing here?"

Rafa didn’t look at Ethan. His eyes were locked on Maria-Isabel. He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink.

"She needs to do the tests," he said simply. "They’re routine, Maria. Nothing invasive. Nothing to be afraid of."

Maria’s stare hardened, her voice quiet but lethal. "You’ve been digging."

"I had to," Rafa said, stepping closer. "Because I needed the truth. And I found enough to understand why you did what you did."

He paused, letting the words hang between them.

"You killed Daniel," Rafa continued, "because deep down, you knew there was a chance you wouldn’t survive what came next. And you couldn’t risk Isabella being raised by someone like him. Or worse."

Maria flinched, just slightly. Her arms folded across her chest protectively. Ethan watched her, saw the subtle tremor in her fingertips.

"You didn’t want her growing up the way you did," Rafa said, voice gentler now. "Being beaten. Silenced. Made small by the one person meant to protect her."

The room went still. Maria’s lips pressed together so tightly they were white.

"You grew up with abuse," Rafa said, not asking, stating. "Your father—he wasn’t just strict. He was violent. And your mother covered for him, didn’t she?"

Maria looked away. Ethan saw it then—the pain behind her silence wasn’t just grief or guilt. It was something older. Deeper. Etched into the girl she used to be.

"I didn’t know you were in Los Vinania for her," Rafael said finally, turning to Ethan.

Ethan’s expression softened, letting the surprise settle. "Yeah. Same here."

There was a pause.

Rafa extended the file toward him. "Let’s work together. Just this once. I’m not here to get glory. I’m here because I’m worried about her. Really worried."

Ethan took the file with a nod, glancing down at the papers.

"What did you find?" he asked.

Maria’s eyes lowered. There was a beat before Rafa said quietly, "She’s sick."

Ethan’s head snapped up.

"What?"

Maria spoke before Rafa could answer. Her voice was calm. Resigned.

"Yes. I’m sick. I’ve known for weeks."

Ethan’s heart pounded. "Sick—what do you mean sick?"

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