Inside the master bedroom, Dr. Michael Shaw, the Wright family's private doctor, finished tending to his patient. Having served the Wright family for years, he had seen more than his fair share of blood and violence over that period. Tonight, though, was different. Ethan's opponents or even a valued subordinate caught in the crossfire were not the woman laying in the bed before him. She was someone else completely—fragile, sensitive, and totally helpless.
She was not very beautiful, at least not in the conventional sense—especially not in relation to Ethan Wright's nearly superhuman appeal. But there was something about her—a peaceful power that appeared to emanate from inside, a peace that made Michael Shaw feel as though the turmoil of the outside world couldn't reach her.
"Dr. Shaw...?" Her voice was low, hardly a whisper, tired.
Michael gently smiled and said, "Yes, it's me," his palm caressing her forehead. "You have a fever, but there is nothing to cause concern about. You trust me, do you not?
In response, she gave him a weary smile that lacked any hint of animosity or bitterness given her circumstances. "thank you."
Michael grinned back, albeit it was slightly sad. Turning to the attendant assigned to look after her, he gave a few more directions before walking toward the door. He couldn't resist one last look back at the woman who now slept violently under the pale light of the moon as he approached the threshold though.
Her lips drawn in a tiny line, her eyebrows wrinkled in slumber. She defied any indication of frailty even in her reduced state. Michael mumbled inwardly. Such a sweetheart—how on earth could she have produced someone like Ethan Wright?
* * *
As Michael Shaw stepped out of the bedroom, he was greeted by Chris Jensen, who handed him a glass of water. Chris said, "You've had a long night."
Michael nodded thanks and took the water. "What on earth entered him?" How could he have pushed a girl this innocent to the brink?
Chris shook his head and grinned bitterly. You know Mr. Wright is like. He hardly gives anything any thought, but once he loses his cool, everyone suffers.
Michael shivered down his spine as he remembered the seething rage he had seen in Ethan only hours before. "What happened?."
"A threat," Chris said, his voice flat. Targeting Mrs. Wright, a small-time gang sought to move against the Wright family. They hardly got far; Mr. Wright made sure of it.
" Ah... " Michael mumbled, the pacifist in him pulling back at the idea. To ground himself, he drank some water. And she was caught right in the middle?
Chris agreed. "Mr. Wright had just cautioned her yesterday not to go out unnecessarily."
Michael exhaled, his former irritation returning. Shaking his head, he remarked, "You can't really blame her." "Not every woman can bear what she does. If this were someone else, say that firebrand from the Jensen family, we would be dealing with a full-fledged revolution by now—cars running over, weapons shooting, bridges blowing up.
Like a razor cutting through his words, Ethan's unexpected voice broke through "How is she?
Michael's face grew frigid. "How do you see it?" You pushed her so fiercely on her first night that she developed a temperature of 101 degrees. What do you hope for?
Ethan said nothing, but Michael needed a reaction to know his comments had found their target. Turning on his heel, the doctor left the Wright family's heir alone himself with his thoughts.