You Let My Grandson Die—Now You Die Too!

After food was handed out, Natalie caused another scene—but this time, Jesse and Leo beat her down brutally on Ethan's orders.

When it was over, everyone returned to their rooms.

Dr. Chloe walked beside Ethan, gently looping her arm around his.

"Ethan… something's off today."

Ethan calmly pulled his arm away.

"Oh? What do you mean?"

Chloe paused, realizing he didn't like being constrained in public.

Inside their home was one thing.

Outside? Ethan was all defense, all the time.

"I just… feel like someone's watching us. A lot of someones. The feeling's strong."

Ethan smirked.

"Not surprising. The snowmobile alone would trigger envy."

"Down here in the South, it's rare. Having one means being able to leave, find food. It means… survival. And everyone wants to live."

Chloe lowered her voice.

"You think people from the other buildings might attack us?"

Ethan scanned the area before replying in a whisper.

"That's why we have cannon fodder."

"Even if they came… breaking into my place wouldn't be easy."

Chloe chuckled nervously.

"People do crazy things when they're desperate."

Ethan nodded slowly.

"You're not wrong."

As they walked, Ethan instinctively swept the area with his eyes.

And that's when he saw it—

A narrow slit in the stairwell door on the 13th floor.

Just a crack.

But inside… a bloodshot eye.

Locked onto him.

"Who's there?!"

His entire body tensed.

Even someone like Ethan felt a jolt of unease when ambushed like this.

BANG!

The metal door burst open.

A filthy, wild-haired woman charged at him with a bloody kitchen knife raised high.

"AAAHHHHHHH!"

Chloe screamed.

Ethan shoved her aside, hard.

The impact knocked him off balance too, and he toppled sideways.

The blade sliced through the air—but missed.

The woman shrieked and lunged again.

Ethan rolled down the stairs, bouncing off the steps.

Good thing he was wearing layers—and a bulletproof vest underneath.

He came to a stop three floors down.

And finally saw her face.

Linda.

The crazy old woman who had vanished for days.

Now she was back—with murder in her eyes.

"You bastard! You killed my grandson!"

Ethan's mind snapped into focus.

His right hand pulled a massive crowbar from his storage.

And swung it upward—full force.

There was no space in the narrow stairwell to dodge.

Linda's rusted blade couldn't even get close.

She flinched just in time—the crowbar missed her skull, smashing into her shoulder.

CRACK!

Ethan heard bone shatter.

The old hag collapsed, groaning, body limp.

But her grip on the knife remained white-knuckled.

"I'll kill you! I'll avenge my grandson!"

Ethan looked down at her coldly.

Then brought the crowbar down again—this time on her hand.

SPLAT.

Three fingers snapped off like dry twigs.

The knife clattered to the ground.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!"

Her scream echoed like a banshee wail.

Footsteps approached—patrol team members.

They stopped when they saw Ethan and the old woman.

"Ethan! What happened?!"

"She tried to kill me," he said flatly.

"Crazy b*tch pulled a knife."

"Should've killed her long ago!"

"She's a threat to the whole building!"

Ethan raised a hand.

"I'll handle it. You all get back to your posts."

They obeyed without hesitation.

Dr. Chloe stood above, hands over her mouth, pale with fear.

"Ethan… are you hurt?"

He pointed to Linda, who was still glaring up at him.

"Her? Please. She couldn't scratch me if she tried."

Linda trembled on the stairs, lips trembling with rage.

"Ethan Cross, you bastard! You killed my grandson! You'll burn in hell!"

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

"I did?"

"I don't remember that."

"In fact… I think I saved you."

"It was Tony Chen's gang that killed your grandson. I'm the one who took him out."

"You should be thanking me."

Linda froze for half a second.

Because… he was right.

And that made her even angrier.

"Don't you play the hero!"

"My grandson wasn't dead yet! He was still alive when I begged you for help!"

"You refused to give me medicine! You let him die in agony!"

Her eyes blazed, spit flying from her cracked lips.

"You're the reason he's dead!"

"You monster! I should tear you apart with my teeth!"

Ethan stayed calm.

Cold. Analytical.

She had picked her moment well.

Waited in the shadows.

Knew when he'd pass by—and struck when he was distracted.

Clever.

But not clever enough.

She wanted to kill him with a kitchen knife?

All because he didn't give her meds?

She had no proof. No logic. Just madness.

But in a world ruled by survival?

Madness could still be dangerous.

Ethan stepped forward, crowbar glinting in the stairwell light.

His expression?

Unchanged.