When Ethan finally stepped inside the house, his mother was waiting for him in the hallway outside their bedroom, her arms folded tightly. Her voice was low but firm. "We need to do something about this, Ethan. She's clearly suffering. Let's end this soon"
Ethan's gaze shifted as he walked to his father. "What's happening?"
Robert sighed. "Clara hasn't eaten since yesterday...since they came back with Axiel. Today, she hasn't left the bedroom. Well… she did once. The housekeeper saw her in the wine cellar. She took a bottle of whisky. She hasn't come out since."
"What are you waiting for?" Ethan said sharply, moving toward the door. "Break it."
The security manager was already there, a heavy tool in hand. The lock gave way with a dull crack.
Ethan turned to the others. "Everyone leave!." His voice left no room for argument.
He then opened the door and entered without making a sound. Inside, the air was filled with the sharp smell of alcohol. Clara was on the floor near the bed, the whisky bottle and an empty glass beside her, her breathing shallow but steady. She didn't move when he knelt beside her.
"Clara," he said softly, touching her shoulder. No response, but she looked at him weakly.
He picked up the glass and bottle, set them on the nightstand, and gently lifted her onto the bed. Her eyelids fluttered as she briefly opened her eyes.
The family doctor arrived minutes later, summoned earlier by Robert. He moved quietly, checking her pulse, listening to her breathing. "She is stable, but she is not in a good place emotionally. Give her something light to eat, help her take a warm bath. And don't leave her alone. This is a clear sign of depression."
He said finally
He looked at Ethan carefully. "Has she been under a lot of stress lately?"