Chapter 1
My husband was a top cardiothoracic surgeon who had brought countless patients back from the brink of death.
But he messed up our twins’ heart surgery.
While I clutched the kids’ ashes, crying my heart out, he was walking out with his suitcase.
He said he had an emergency surgery in another city.
“Luna, the babies were born with heart defects. There was nothing I could do.
“Take care of yourself. We can have kids again.”
But that same night, Mandy Farden-the intern anesthesiologist he was mentoring-put up a post on Instagram.
“My first surgery was a disaster. I messed up the anesthesia dosage and caused a medical error. It nearly cost me my permanent spot. It was so frustrating. Luckily, my sweetheart bailed me out.”
Her next post was a picture of her on tiptoe, kissing a man’s jaw.
“If this hits 10 likes, I’ll finally tell my sweetheart how I feel.”
The scar on that man’s jaw was the exact same one, my husband, Theodore Gibson, got when he took a knife for me
years ago.
My already-shattered heart finally broke beyond repair.
I commented, “No need to wait for ten likes. Your sweetheart’s wife is totally cool with you two being together.”
A second later, a call came in. Theodore’s voice, usually cold, was now filled with anger.
“She made that post as a dare punishment. Why would you leave such an embarrassing comment?
“She just started at the hospital. This is going to ruin her career. Delete it right now, or we’re getting a divorce.”
I hung up and added his name and Mandy’s to the transfer list given to me by senior management for the hospital’s African branch.
The reason was a major medical error.
Since he was so protective of her, they should suffer together.
They caused my babies’ deaths-they had to pay!
[$]
Ten seconds later, Theodore sent me a question mark.
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I didn’t reply, so he messaged again.
“I’ll have the divorce papers sent to you right away. Since you’re set on making a big deal out of this, then fine. Let’s get a divorce.”
I just replied, “Fine.”
The “typing” indicator flashed on and on, but nothing came through.
I took screenshots of Mandy’s post featuring nine snapshots at Disneyland, along with the news about the medical er- ror. Then I sent them to Theodore.
“Theodore, she’s the one who caused our babies’ deaths, isn’t she?”
All I got was a single grey tick-he had blocked me.
I went back to Instagram, and all of Mandy’s old posts were gone. All that remained was an apology post.
“Someone wanted to thank us for saving his child, so he invited us out for dinner. We had a few drinks and played some games. I lost a dare and was asked to pick a guy present and post something about him on Instagram. Dr. Gib- son went along with it to help me. I’m really sorry if this caused any misunderstanding.”
The photo she posted was a crying kitten bowing its head.
Theodore had commented, “Don’t worry, Mandy. I’ve got your back. No one can give you a hard time.”
The comments section was full of messages.
“We all know it was just a joke. A really bad one from the patient’s father. It was just for fun.”
“Give Mandy a hard time? Who? Dr. Gibson’s wife? Poor Dr. Gibson, he’s stuck with a crazy wife. The children’s deaths were a tragedy, but she keeps causing a scene at the hospital, blaming him and Mandy.”
“Dr. Gibson’s amazing, standing up for his intern like that.”
I rolled my eyes, jotted down each of their names, and added them all to the list.
I started this private hospital solely to build Theodore into one of the country’s top cardiothoracic surgeons.
I put in the most money and worked the hardest to promote it.
My goal was achieved he became the head doctor here. Everyone was eager to please him and even Mandy, his fa- vorite student, who rode on his coattails.
But I, the largest shareholder of the hospital, was being treated like nothing by them.
They probably thought I was still head over heels for Theodore, and that the hospital’s success was all thanks to him.
They believed I was too scared to upset him, that neither I nor the hospital could afford to lose him.
What they forgot was that Theodore had become who he was because of my hospital.
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Without him, I could still develop plenty of other top doctors.
Mandy left a smiling cat emoji under each comment and sent a kiss emoji back to Theodore.
Just then, someone knocked on the door-it was a UPS delivery.
The guy handed me the signed divorce papers and a bag.
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