She Taught Him How To Love: He Used It To Destroy Me Chapter 04

She Taught Him How To Love: He Used It To Destroy Me Chapter 04

He adjusted the head of the bed with practiced ease and set the Pumpkin Bread on the bedside table.

My mom’s eyes lit up the moment she saw him.

Ethan knew she loved Pumpkin Bread but didn’t like it too sweet.

Four years ago, when my mom was first hospitalized for high blood pressure, I was out of town.

Ethan stayed by her bed for two nights.

When I rushed back the next day, he was asleep, slumped over the edge of the bed.

After that, my mom always said, “Ethan’s thoughtful. Reliable.”

He sat down beside her and took her left hand.

“Mrs. Clarke, you’ve been through so much,” he said.

“Those people online don’t know the real situation. Don’t let it get to you.”

My mom looked at me anxiously.

Ethan followed her gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he said.

“I’m not going to leave Ivy over this.”

The tension in my mom’s shoulders visibly eased.

For a moment, I almost believed it too.

Like he was still the Ethan who’d stayed by her hospital bed four years ago.

The next second, he pulled a paper out of his briefcase.

“The public pressure is too intense right now,” he said.

“If you could just clarify a few things, Vanessa can kill the story.”

The paper read:

[I, Margaret Clarke, voluntarily gifted Ethan Cross two hundred eighty thousand dollars. There was no loan relationship.]

[My daughter, Ivy Clarke, due to emotional instability, has repeatedly exaggerated my condition and demanded money.]

I tore it in half.

“You’re bringing this to a patient who just woke up?” I asked.

Ethan frowned.

“It’s just clearing up the facts,” he said.

“There’s a Promissory Note for the two hundred eighty thousand.”

“Promissory Notes can be voided.”

He lowered his voice.

“We’re getting married soon,” he said.

“Your mom’s money and my money—why are you drawing such a hard line?”

“When the money was given, we were family.”

“Now that it’s time to pay it back, suddenly I’m the one keeping score?”

Ethan’s face went dark.

“Can you stop turning our relationship into a spreadsheet?” he said.

“My mom’s in critical condition, and you have to weigh whether twenty thousand is even worth it.”

My mom heard the word “Wedding” and grabbed his sleeve.

She pointed at the torn paper, then at me.

Ethan patted her hand.

“If you sign it, I’ll have Vanessa take the post down tonight,” he said.

“The Wedding is still on. I’m not going to abandon her.”

My mom stared at me, desperate.

I stepped in front of her bed.

“Get out.”

Ethan’s face hardened.

“Ivy, don’t be ungrateful,” he said.

“Your mom knows what’s best for you.”

“She just woke up. She can’t even speak!”

“All she knows is she’s terrified of me being abandoned!”

My mom tried to sit up in panic.

The monitor immediately started beeping.

Nurses rushed in and pushed all of us out.

The doctor called me back to sign some additional forms.

When I returned, Ethan was gone from the hallway.

The room was quiet.

On the bedside table sat a small red ink pad.

The statement I’d torn up had been reprinted—and at the bottom right corner was my mom’s crooked Thumbprint.

She saw me and frantically lifted her left hand.

On the paper, she’d scrawled a new line:

[He said if I sign, he’ll marry you.]

I stood by the bed for a long time without moving.

At 8 p.m., Vanessa posted a Live Stream announcement.

The cover image was the statement—with the Thumbprint.

The title read:

[After seven years of being drained, he finally got the victim’s mother’s signed confession.]

In the trailer, Ethan wore a white shirt and smiled tiredly.

“I really did think of them as family once,” he said.

“But some people’s appetites can never be satisfied.”

My mom’s phone buzzed.

I silenced it quickly—but she’d already seen.

She stared at me blankly.

Her left hand still had red Ink Pad smeared across it.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

She just shook her head, over and over.

The Live Stream was scheduled for 7 p.m. the next day.

Vanessa dropped a teaser early.

In the clips, Ethan walked with my mom through the grocery store, carrying her bags.

My mom sat outside his studio, baking cookies for his staff.

And the shot of her handing the keys to the realtor the day she sold the house.

All those videos—they’d been in my family photo album.

Now they were cut into something else:

[The Making of a Parasitic Mother-Daughter Duo.]