Chapter 1

I accompanied my pregnant best friend to the hospital for her prenatal checkup and decided to drop by to see my husband, a surgeon who rarely came home because of "overtime."

I pushed open the door to the on-call room.

There he was. My surgeon husband, pinning a young nurse beneath him on the cot.

Hearing the door swing open, he quickly pulled his white coat over the woman's face to shield her.

He spun toward me, eyes blazing with fury.

"This is a sterile area! Get the hell out of here, and take your trash friend with you!"

"Do you still want me to perform your mother's surgery tomorrow? Don't test me, or I'll postpone it! Let's see if she gets operated on then!"

My friend went pale, clutching her belly in silence, terrified.

I just stood there. Slowly, deliberately, I slid the wedding ring off my finger.

And tossed it straight into the biohazard bin beside me.

He was indeed the lead surgeon scheduled for tomorrow's operation.

Only, the person waiting on that table for her life to be saved was his own mother.

The ring hit the edge of the plastic bin with a sharp clatter.

Ethan glanced at the trash can, not showing the slightest hint of panic.

"Natalie, how much longer are you going to keep up this pathetic act?"

"First it was throwing tantrums and threatening your life, and now you're throwing your ring away?"

"Let me tell you something: this shit doesn't work on me. Pick it up, wipe it off, and get the hell out."

He sounded completely justified, as if I were the one caught cheating.

The little nurse hiding in his arms finally poked her head out.

It was Chloe.

She casually smoothed down her rumpled collar, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Oh, Natalie, don't jump to conclusions."

"Dr. Miller was just coaching me on clinical procedures. Causing a scene like this is terrible for the department."

"Besides, Dr. Miller has a major surgery tomorrow. He needs his rest. Acting so immature... no wonder he never wants to come home."

The two of them played off each other seamlessly.

I looked at Ethan.

This was the man I had loved for three whole years.

I had hidden my status as an heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire, played the dutiful housewife, and pulled strings with my family's elite connections behind the scenes to elevate his career.

And this was the piece of garbage I got in return.

I took a deep breath, giving him one final chance.

"Ethan, tomorrow's surgery is critical."

"The patient is in extremely dangerous condition. You're the lead surgeon. Now isn't the time to fool around."

Ethan scoffed as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

He let go of Chloe, stepped right up to me, and shoved a finger almost into my face.

"Dangerous? That hypochondriac mother of yours is always in 'dangerous' condition, isn't she?"

"Last time it was dizziness, the time before that was chest tightness, and now it's heart disease?"

"Natalie, the two of you will stoop to literally anything just to drag me back home."

"Let me make this crystal clear. Either you get on your knees and apologize to me right now, or tomorrow's surgery is off."

"Let that old hag rot on the operating table!"

I froze.

He hadn't even checked the surgical board.

He had no idea that the first patient scheduled for tomorrow morning was his own flesh-and-blood mother—the woman who had sacrificed everything to raise him!

I stared at him, looking at him as if he were already a corpse.

"Ethan, remember every single word you said today."

My best friend was shaking with rage, about to lunge forward and tear into the two of them.

I caught her arm and held her back.

Making a scene in a hospital would only give him leverage to twist the narrative against us.

Besides, this room was filthy.

Seeing me stay quiet, Ethan assumed I was backing down.

He wrapped his arm around Chloe's waist and kissed her right in front of me.

"I'm taking Chloe to a 'medical seminar' tonight so I can unwind."

"Go home and reflect on your behavior. If I don't see a hot breakfast ready for me tomorrow morning, don't even dream about your mother setting foot in that OR."

With that, he brushed roughly past my shoulder, clutching Chloe, and strutted away.

I pulled out my phone. I didn't send a pleading text like I used to.

Instead, I opened a contact I hadn't messaged in a very long time—the director of St. Jude's Medical Center.

[Director Anderson, I'm requesting to immediately remove Dr. Ethan Miller as the lead surgeon for tomorrow morning's first cardiothoracic procedure.]

Right as I hit send, a hand darted out and violently snatched the phone from my grip.

Ethan had somehow turned back.

Without even looking at the screen, he slammed my phone onto the floor.

Crack. The glass shattered into spiderwebs.

He ground his shoe into the wreckage, crushing the phone and the SIM card beneath his heel.

"Running to tell on me again? Natalie, you seriously need to be put in your place."

"Stop playing games. If I don't operate tomorrow, your mother is dead."

Dropping his vicious threat, he turned on his heel and walked away for good.

I crouched down, picking up the mangled SIM card.

Watching his receding back, I whispered under my breath:

"Ethan, don't you dare regret this."