Chapter 9 A Place of My Own

Jane: POV

I scrolled through another apartment listing that was way out of my budget range.

Fifty-eight hundred a month for a shoebox with a view of someone else's brick wall? Give me a break.

But I kept scrolling anyway, desperate to find something—anything—that could become my escape hatch from this gilded cage.

All I wanted was a simple one-bedroom. Nothing fancy.

Just somewhere that was mine, where I wouldn't have to hold my breath every time I heard the front door open, wondering if it was Lucas returning with Serena on his arm.

The more expensive listings taunted me with their gleaming hardwood floors and renovated kitchens, while the affordable ones looked like they'd been the scene of at least one murder-suicide.

My options were either bankruptcy or tetanus.

My phone buzzed with a text from Ethan: 【I've completed the hospital transfers for your father and brother. Would you like to visit Michael together?】

I stared at the message, relief washing over me. Finally, something had gone right. Lucas couldn't use my family as leverage anymore.

’Yes, please. When?‘ I texted back.

‘I can pick you up in an hour if that works for you.’

I glanced at the clock. Plenty of time to make myself look less like the human disaster I felt like.

‘Perfect. Thank you.’

Prestige Medical Center lived up to its name.

The lobby looked more like a five-star hotel than a hospital, with its marble floors and abstract art pieces probably worth more than my annual income.

Money might not buy happiness, but it definitely bought better-smelling hospital corridors.

"This way," Ethan said, guiding me with a light touch to my elbow. "Michael's been moved to the orthopedic specialty wing."

Walking beside Ethan felt strangely natural.

He moved with quiet confidence, occasionally nodding at staff who clearly recognized him.

I wondered how many connections he'd pulled to get my brother transferred here.

Michael's face lit up when he saw me enter his private room. "Jane! Finally escaped the dragon's lair?"

I smiled, leaning down to hug him. "For a few hours at least."

His eyes shifted to Ethan, who stood slightly behind me. "And who's this?"

"This is Ethan Quinn," I said, suddenly feeling awkward about how to introduce him. "He's a... friend who helped arrange your transfer here."

Michael's eyebrows shot up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "A friend, huh?"

I gave him a warning look, which he cheerfully ignored.

After Ethan excused himself to take a call outside, Michael immediately leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Jane, you need to divorce Lucas ASAP. Even stuck in a hospital bed, I've heard about his affairs. The nurses gossip. He's not exactly discreet."

"I'm working on it," I muttered.

"Well, work faster." Michael glanced toward the door where Ethan had disappeared. "That guy seems decent. And I can tell he likes you."

"Michael, please—"

"No, listen to me." His face turned serious, all traces of teasing gone. "You know what Lucas has been doing? For the past six months, I've been in that fancy hospital he arranged, getting absolutely zero effective treatment. My leg hasn't improved at all since the accident."

The knot in my stomach tightened. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying your husband has been paying for luxury accommodations, not actual medical care. It's all been for show—to keep you grateful and compliant. The doctors there barely examined me after the first month."

I felt sick. All this time, I'd been thanking Lucas for his "generosity" while he was actually neglecting my brother's care. Using my family to control me while doing the bare minimum.

When Ethan returned, he must have noticed something was wrong. "Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes moving between Michael and me.

"Fine," I said automatically, though my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

As we were preparing to leave, Ethan pulled me aside, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The doctors here say Michael's condition is quite serious. There's significant damage beyond the fractures—severe soft tissue injury. They believe amputation and prosthetics might be his only option for mobility."

"What?" I gasped, the word escaping before I could stop it.

Michael, with his sharp hearing, caught this. "It's okay, Jane," he called from the bed. "I already discussed it with the new doctors. I just want to stand up again. And hey, modern prosthetics are pretty advanced—practically like real legs, with all kinds of cool features."

I forced a smile and hugged Michael, "Good job."

After saying goodbye to Michael, Ethan gently asked, "Would you like to see your father while we're here?"

I nodded silently.

In the ICU, my father lay motionless, connected to various machines that beeped steadily.

I took his hand, feeling the unfamiliar coolness of his skin.

"When his company went bankrupt the year before last, he just collapsed one morning," I said quietly. "Massive heart attack. The doctors saved his life, but he's been in a coma ever since."

I swallowed hard. "And my mom disappeared the day after he was hospitalized. "

Ethan stood beside me, not offering empty words, just his presence. It was strange how comforting that silence felt.

I hoped with all my heart that my father would wake up quickly before I went with Ethan.

In Ethan's car afterward, I stared out the window, still processing everything.

"How are you holding up?" Ethan asked softly, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I'm..." I started, then stopped.

What was I? Upset? Angry? Devastated? Relieved to finally know the truth? "I'm just trying to take things one step at a time."

"That's wise."

"I've been looking for apartments," I said, changing the subject. "Nothing suitable yet. Either too expensive or too sketchy."

Ethan nodded. "New York real estate is brutal. But I'm sure you'll find something soon."

His confidence was comforting, even if unfounded.

The next morning, I woke up early, determined to continue my apartment hunt. Lucas had already left—probably to Serena's—which meant I could search in peace.

I scrolled through listing after listing until I suddenly stopped, my finger hovering over the screen.

A one-bedroom on the Upper West Side.

The photos showed hardwood floors, decent natural light, and a small but functional kitchen.

The building had security, and the neighborhood was safe.

Most importantly, the rent was within my budget—barely, but still possible.

Without hesitation, I dialed Christina's number.

"I found an apartment," I blurted out, unable to contain my excitement. "It's perfect. Can you come with me to see it today?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"This quickly?" Christina finally said, surprise evident in her voice. "You're really doing this, aren't you?"