Chapter 3

Chloe stormed in just as Logan reached for the schedule.

"Mason! What is your problem? Are you really going to embarrass him in front of everyone?"

I gave a short laugh. Bully him?

"I'm asking him to tell people who performed the surgery. Dr. Patel had to take over after you sent me to wait in the wrong place."

"And let me remind you—this is a hospital. Patients come first. Relying on favoritism and connections might get you through the door, but it won't keep you here."

A ripple of hushed whispers spread across the lounge.

The other doctors were beginning to see how Logan had ended up on the case.

Ignoring their stares, I turned on my heel and walked out.

Chloe, livid, chased me down the corridor, shrieking, "A man like you doesn't deserve to hold a scalpel!"

I didn't bother looking back as I walked out of the hospital gates.

Still, my chest tightened with an ache I couldn't entirely suppress.

The main reason I had dedicated my youth to medicine was Chloe.

Her father was an abusive gambler who took his losses out on her, while her mother suffered from chronic heart disease.

I remembered how Chloe had cried when we were applying to college. She said she wanted to study medicine and help her mother.

Because of her, I chose the pre-med track and eventually trained in cardiac surgery.

Curing her mother and keeping her family intact had been my life's mission for years.

When Chloe learned of my resolve, she broke down in tears, wrapping her arms around me and swearing that no one in the world would ever love her the way I did.

She was the one who whispered that she loved me, that she would never marry anyone else.

Then Logan came back into her life.

During her mother's hospitalization, Logan publicly questioned my surgical plan, claiming my approach was far too aggressive and advocating for conservative medical management instead.

But Chloe's mother was past the point of conservative treatment; stalling would only drain their life savings while waiting for the inevitable. The family was drowning in debt and couldn't afford long-term hospice care anyway.

Her mother came to me in private, signed the high-risk surgical consent forms, and begged me to try.

Tragically, an unforeseen intraoperative crisis occurred, and her mother passed away on the table.

Afterward, Logan hypocritically voiced his "condolences," subtly pinning every ounce of blame onto my surgical choices.

He planted the poison in Chloe's mind that I had killed her mother.

That tragedy carved an irreparable rift between us, a canyon that ran down the center of our entire marriage.

Her mother's death devastated me so deeply that I couldn't pick up a scalpel for an entire month.

Weeks later, I found a discrepancy in the pharmacy record for Chloe's mother's operation. A nurse had also noted an unexpected IV bag in the prep room.

I filed a written report naming Logan as someone who had been in the area. The hospital preserved the dispensing records and a short clip from the hallway camera in its incident file.

The first review confirmed the discrepancy but could not establish who had handled the bag. When I told Chloe I had reported it, she accused me of trying to shift the blame.

Looking back, perhaps Chloe had never truly trusted me.

In her eyes, whatever Logan did was justified, and everything I did was inherently flawed.

I reached for my phone to call an Uber. Then I saw a little girl crying on the curb with a basket of flowers.

I walked over.

She told me her grandmother was sick in the hospital and needed expensive medication. She was trying to sell roses to help, but everyone rushed past without giving her a second glance.

"How much for the whole basket?" I asked, pulling out my wallet. "I'll take them all. Go be with your grandmother."

The girl's eyes lit up with wonder. "Really? Thank you, sir! You're such a good person—bless you, good things are going to happen to you!"

She thrust the massive bundle of roses into my arms, clutched the cash, and skipped away.

I watched her disappear down the sidewalk.

Did good intentions really bring good outcomes?

When I turned around, I ran directly into Chloe, Logan, and a few colleagues heading out for an early dinner.

Logan spotted the flowers in my hands and offered a slimy, teasing grin.

"Look at that. Dr. Crawford bought Chloe roses."

"Chloe, don't be mad at him anymore. I'm sure Dr. Crawford just acted out of frustration earlier. Really, I don't hold a grudge. Don't let me come between you two!"

I let Logan play peacemaker and didn't bother correcting him.

Chloe, hearing this, crossed her arms and scoffed.

"A cheap bunch of flowers from the sidewalk? Like I care. He thinks he can treat you like dirt just because you're a resident?"

She shot me a haughty glare and held out an open palm.

"What are you standing there for? Walk over here, apologize to Logan, and we'll consider this matter dropped."

I stared at her outstretched hand, utterly numb.

Then, I walked right past her.