The Paper Wife’s Empire novel Chapter 291

"Ramona!"

"My dear…"

Shelby burst into tears, and Florence swayed, nearly fainting from shock. Phineas was the first to recover, shouting at Ethan, not understanding what had possessed him.

But Ethan's eyes were unfocused. He stared blankly at the scene before him, his brow furrowed in confusion, as if lost in a fog.

The knife sliced through Ramona's palm in an instant. Blood welled up, slowly trickling down her wrist and dripping onto the floor, one red drop at a time. Yet Ethan didn't release his grip. The pressure didn't ease; the blade continued its slow, inexorable advance.

As the others gasped in horror, Ramona fought against his strength, the pain making her breath come in ragged gasps. "Ethan, what's wrong with you?"

She could feel that he wasn't himself; it was like he was possessed, acting without consciousness.

The family rushed to help, but seeing how badly Ramona's hand was injured and how Ethan wouldn't let go, they were terrified of making it worse by pulling them apart. They shouted his name, trying to break through to him, but whether it was Florence, Shelby, or Phineas, none of their voices seemed to reach him.

"I'm fine," Ramona said, her voice surprisingly calm. She was speaking to the terrified family, but also to Ethan.

Ethan stared at her. A flicker of something passed through his eyes, but the veins on his forehead remained bulging, his entire body rigid with tension.

"Ethan, don't be afraid. I'm here. It's okay… It's really okay…" Ramona's heart ached for him. Though she didn't understand what was happening, her gaze was filled with nothing but gentle, unconditional love.

But her strength was failing. Ethan's hand was still pushing forward. Blood stained the front of his shirt.

Florence couldn't bear it anymore and shot a desperate look at Zadkiel, who was still frozen in place.

Suddenly, Ramona opened her hand, and the tip of the knife swung toward her own throat.

"Ethan!"

In that final, heart-stopping second, everyone held their breath. But only Ramona looked at him with unwavering trust, as if she never once doubted that he would never harm her.

With a clatter, the knife fell to the floor.

It was as if Ethan had snapped back to reality. His hand trembled, and his entire body seemed to sag, all strength draining out of him. Everyone rushed forward as Ramona caught him, supporting his weight.

"Ram… Ramona?" Ethan's eyes were bloodshot. He choked out her name, his gaze falling to the pool of blood on the floor, then to her hand, which was now covered in it.

"There, there, they're all gone. It's okay," she murmured, her voice as calm and ordinary as if nothing had happened. "Such a big man, acting like a little boy."

But they both knew her composure was a fragile facade, an attempt to hold the terrifying reality at bay.

"Ramona," Ethan finally whispered.

Only then did she pull back slightly. "Are you feeling better?"

He kept his head down, his tall frame slumped in defeat. He didn't answer, just slowly raised a trembling hand to gently touch her bandaged palm. His eyes were like those of someone staring at a priceless treasure he had just shattered—filled with devastating pain and self-loathing.

"Does it hurt?"

The words were scraped from his throat, raw and hoarse.

"The physical pain will fade. It's the pain in your heart that's harder to heal," Ramona said softly, her voice like a gentle breeze.

"Just now… I…" Ethan couldn't bring himself to look at her. He was so consumed with regret that he wished he had never been born.