Chapter 1
My husband, Dr. Ethan Blackwood, is the chief cardiologist, a renowned expert who’s saved countless lives.
But he made a fatal error during heart surgery on our twins.
I cradled their ashes, crying until I could barely stand, while he hurriedly packed his bags and left.
He claimed there was an emergency surgery in another city required his immediate attention.
“Valerie, the babies had congenital heart defects. Not even a mircale could have saved them. I’m no miracle worker.”
“Mourn, but take care of yourself. We can try for another child.”
But that same night, his intern, Sophie Matthews, posted on social media.
A collage of nine photos, including fireworks at Disneyland, and a picture of her interlacing fingers with a man.
[First time assisting in surgery: I miscalculated the anesthesia dosage and nearly caused a disaster. Thank god my knight in shining armor saved my career.]
The next post was a photo of her standing on tiptoe, kissing the man’s jawline.
[Ten likes and I’ll confess to my crush! ]The scar on his chin mirrored the one Ethan got shielding me from the knife years
ago.
My already shattered heart finally froze over.
I moved my fingers and typed:
[No need for ten likes. This crush’s wife gives you her blessing.]
The phone rang instantly. Ethan’s usually cold voice now laced with irritation.
“It’s just a silly social media game. Why humiliate yourself with that comment?”
“She’s new here. You’re ruining her career.”
“If you’re going to go crazy, do it on your own. Don’t drag others down. Delete it in ten seconds or I’ll file for divorce.”
I hung up and added both their names to the transfer list for the Caribbean branch.
Reason: Major medical malpractice.
Since he’s so eager to protect her, let them suffer together.
How dare they smile so happily after killing my children?
Ten seconds later, Ethan sent me a question mark.
Seeing I didn’t reply, he sent another message.
“The divorce papers on its way. Keep this up and we’re done.”
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I finally replied:
“Fine.”
He kept typing, but nothing came through.
I took screenshots of Sophie’s Disney photos and the medical malpractice incident and sent them to him.
“Ethan, she killed our children, didn’t she?”
A red exclamation point stared back. He blocked me.
I returned to the post and saw that Sophie had deleted all her previous posts, leaving only one apology.
[It was a game. The family of a patient we saved invited us to dinner. We were drinking, playing a game, and I lost. The
family made me post a picture with a guy. Dr. Blackwood just helped me to avoid any awkwardness. Sorry for the misunderstanding.]
The picture showed a little cat bowing in tears.
Ethan commented below:
[Don’t worry, Soph. I’ve got your back. No one can bully my team.]
The comments followed.
[We all know it was a joke. That family’s prank was gross, but we played along.]
[Some people? Bet it’s his crazy wife! Blaming them for her kids’ death? Pathetic.]]
[Dr. B is so protective. It’s impressive.]
I sneered, recording every name and adding them to the list.
This private hospital existed to make Ethan the nation’s top cardiologist.
I’d poured everything into it.
Now he was the chief doctor, revered by everyone, and his favorite protégé, Sophie, was basking in the same glory.
And me? The largest shareholder of the hospital? I was being trampled on.
They probably thought that I loved Ethan so much that this hospital’s success was all thanks to him.
What they forgot was that my hospital had made him who he was.
Without him, I could still cultivate ten more top surgeons.
Sophie posted a smiling cat emoji under every comment,
sending Ethan a kiss emoji in return.
The doorbell rang. It was a delivery.
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The courier handed me the signed divorce papers, along with a bag.
I asked him what it was.
He hesitated.
“A… lady asked me to give this to you. She said you’re nearing menopause. She didn’t want to argue with you.”
“It’s menopause supplements.”
“But you look thirty.”
I calmly asked him to throw the bag away and shut the door.
I signed the divorce papers.
My phone buzzed with a message from the hospital’s HR manager.
“Ms. Greene, are you sure you want to send Dr. Blackwood and Sophie to the Caribbean branch?”
“I understand you’re grieving the loss of your children, but please, don’t mix personal matters with business. You can’t do
something like this. You’re not just ruining two talented doctors; you’re risking the lives of many patients.”
I replied calmly:
“Valid point. Forgot to fire you. I’ll have a third-party agency take over your job.”
I immediately called the third-party management group to take over the hospital’s HR and logistics.
“Transfer every employee who pleaded for them to the Caribbean branch. Refusers repay training fees.”
I softly stroked my children’s urn, saying each word with intent.
The doctors who supported Sophie in the comments were all students I had sponsored.
I gave them opportunities and sent them abroad to study.
In the end, they only knew how to please Ethan.
They’d forgotten who had helped them become good doctors.
No wonder they worshiped Ethan like blind followers.
You can’t be a good doctor if you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
They needed to suffer more before they understood what true medical ethics meant.
After hanging up, I realized Ethan had called me more than ten times.
Finally, in a fit of rage, he sent me a friend request, with the note: “Pick up the phone.”
Just then, another call came in.
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I answered it.
As soon as I did, Ethan’s angry voice filled my ears.
“Are you out of your mind? I’m about to be promoted, and Sophie’s about to be confirmed! You’ve reported us to the
Caribbean branch!”
