Chapter 1

I rushed out of the elevator and found my husband screaming for a doctor—

for his wife in the operating room.

And that wife wasn’t me.

Minutes later, I was the surgeon ordered to save the woman carrying his child.

That was the moment I stopped being the fool in this marriage…

and started becoming the storm that would destroy it.

"Get me the best doctor here right now!"

As I stepped out of the staff-only elevator, I was greeted by the sight of my husband, Grant Fairclough, making a scene outside the operating room.

My first thought was, "What is he doing here?"

He told me he was away on a business trip today and couldn't celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary with me.

Before I could process what was happening, he yelled at the nurse again.

"You'd better save my wife and baby, or I'll make sure this hospital goes bankrupt!"

I froze at his words.

I thought, "If his wife is the one lying in that operating room, then who am I?"

The realization hit me like a freight train. I'd been betrayed.

I was still standing there in shock when a young doctor hurried toward me.

"Dr. Fairclough, you're just in time. All the senior surgeons are tied up with other cases. Please, you need to head into the OR now!"

I took a deep breath, clenched my fists, and made my way toward the operating room.

Grant blocked my path, his voice dripping with hostility.

"Are you the lead surgeon?"

I was momentarily stunned that he didn't recognize me.

"Even with the surgical cap and mask covering most of my face, how could he not recognize his wife of seven years?" I thought.

But then again, I realized that he probably never imagined I'd be here.

Last month, I was temporarily assigned to this small-town hospital as part of an exchange program.

I remembered telling Grant about it, but it was obvious that he had been too engrossed in his phone and hadn't paid attention.

From behind my mask, I said calmly, "Please step aside, Sir."

I brushed past him.

Grant shouted after me, "There aren't any men in that OR, right? My wife's body isn't for other men to see!"

I cursed him silently, disgusted by his absurd possessiveness.

But my curiosity grew. His words intrigued me more about the identity of the "wife" he was so protective of.

After scrubbing in, I entered the OR. A pregnant woman lay pale and weak on the operating table.

The moment I saw her face, my chest tightened.

It was Vanessa Hilton, the wife of Ethan Hilton, Grant's cousin.

Ethan was a soldier and was often away on duty. Vanessa would frequently call Grant over to her house with excuses like a broken appliance or a plumbing issue.

I'd been so busy with work that I never paid much attention to these things. But now, I realized they had been carrying on behind my back!

The nurse handed me Vanessa's medical chart.

Vanessa was eight months pregnant. Her premature contractions were triggered by sexual activity during her pregnancy.

I flipped through the chart, my mind racing. Ethan had been away for nearly a year. I couldn't help but think, "Could the baby Vanessa is carrying be Grant's?"

My stomach churned.

Memories of suspicious moments surfaced.

Despite years of marriage, I hadn't been able to conceive. My cycles were irregular, and last year, I'd suggested Grant get tested. He'd flatly refused, insisting he was perfectly fine. Even his mother, Carol Fairclough, had taken his side.

I thought, "No wonder he was so sure of himself. He's already gotten someone else pregnant."

It dawned on me that Carol must have known all along.

"Dr. Fairclough," my assistant interrupted, "should we prepare for a C-section?"

I checked the fetal heart rate and ultrasound. The baby was developed enough to survive outside the womb.

"The irony," I thought bitterly. "I'm about to perform a C-section on the woman who's been sleeping with my husband."

But as a doctor, I had no other choice.

Taking a steadying breath, I said, "Yes. Prep for anesthesia."

As we began preparations, Vanessa suddenly screamed, "I want my husband here! I don't want to do this alone!"

The nurse tried to soothe her.

"Ms. Hilton, that's against protocol..."

"Why not? I've seen husbands in the delivery room on TV!"

After the anesthesia kicked in, Vanessa's contractions eased, and she began shouting energetically.

The nurse explained patiently, "Those require prior approval, and our hospital doesn't..."

Vanessa shouted, "I don't care! My husband is a high-ranking executive! If you don't let him in, you'll regret it!"

I thought, "Your real husband is a soldier, Vanessa. Grant's just your lover, isn't he? How shameless."

Clearly, neither Vanessa nor Grant cared about their marriage. They openly called each other husband and wife.

"I won't deliver unless my husband is here!" Vanessa declared.