Chapter 209
Even if Charlotte had money, she would never hand it over to that worthless excuse for a father.
Every cent she earned went toward her mother’s treatment—money soaked in exhaustion, sacrifice, and sleepless nights.
That was her mother’s lifeline.
Not his gambling habit.
Not his desperation.
“Still lying to me?!”
Her father’s patience finally snapped.
The blade in his hand trembled as he raised it again.
Charlotte’s body went rigid.
Her mind went completely blank.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the worst—
But the pain never came.
Instead, a sharp cry rang out.
Her father’s voice—twisted into agony.
“Ah—!”
Charlotte’s eyes flew open.
A figure had appeared out of nowhere.
Fast.
Precise.
Cold.
Ethan.
He moved as he had already calculated the distance, the timing, the angle.
One strike sent her father stumbling back.
Before the man could recover, Ethan followed with two brutal punches, forcing him straight onto the ground.
“E… Ethan?”
Charlotte stared in disbelief.
She hadn’t even processed how he got there.
Ethan didn’t look at her.
It had been too long since he’d thrown a punch himself.
His wrist burned slightly from the impact, but he ignored it.
His expression remained indifferent as he stepped down on the man’s back.
Then, without ceremony, he shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it toward Charlotte.
“Take it,” he said flatly.
Charlotte caught it on instinct.
The fabric carried a faint, expensive scent that made her pause for a fraction of a second.
Ethan had already removed his tie.
In one swift motion, he used it to bind the man’s hands tightly behind his back.
“Who the hell are you?!” her father screamed, struggling violently. “I’m disciplining my daughter! What does it have to do with you, you bastard?!”
His curses echoed down the empty street.
Ethan didn’t even glance at him.
He only spoke, calm and detached.
“This old bastard… is your father?”
“…Yes,” Charlotte answered quietly.
Her voice carried something heavy—shame she couldn’t hide and fatigue she couldn’t erase.
She stepped away quickly, picked up her phone, and checked the screen.
It was cracked.
But still usable.
Without hesitation, she called the police.
When her father heard the word “police,” his rage escalated instantly.
His shouting became more unhinged, more obscene, more chaotic.
Ethan finally frowned.
He kicked the man once—hard.
Then crouched, grabbed a pack of tissues from the man’s pocket, and shoved the entire wad into his mouth.
The shouting turned into muffled noise.
Within minutes, sirens approached.
The police arrived quickly.
The man was already a known fugitive. There was no hesitation—they took him away immediately.
Charlotte stood still as she watched.
No panic.
No hesitation.
No tears.
Only a quiet, frozen calm.
As if she were watching a stranger being dragged away.
As if the man had never been her father at all.
Ethan let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“Didn’t expect that.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“You didn’t even flinch.”
“I thought you’d at least beg me to go easy on him.”
Charlotte looked at him.
Her expression didn’t change.
“He’s my father,” she said softly.
A pause.
“Only by blood.”
Nothing more.
She turned away, walked to the side, and picked up Ethan’s jacket.
Carefully.
Almost politely.
“Thank you for today,” she said. “I’ll treat you to a meal next time.”
Ethan raised a brow.
“A meal?”
A faint, mocking smile appeared.
“You think I need a free meal from you?”
Charlotte didn’t respond.
She simply held the jacket out to him.
Distant.
Controlled.
Unmoving.
Ethan exhaled lightly, clearly annoyed by her detachment, but didn’t press further.
As he reached for the jacket, Charlotte’s gaze suddenly paused.
Something red.
Dripping.
She grabbed his wrist.
“Ethan.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Your hand.”
Only then did he look down.
A shallow cut had split his palm.
Blood was still seeping through.
He clicked his tongue softly.
“Damn.”
As if only now realizing it.
He pressed his suit fabric against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.
Charlotte didn’t let go.
Instead, she held his wrist more firmly, studying the injury with a focused, almost clinical calm.
At that same time, far from the empty street, Khloe had just returned home with Nick.
Inside the Hunt residence, she sat with steady determination and explained everything about her past with Trey to the entire family.