Chapter 1

I stepped out, adjusting my surgical mask and pulling my scrub cap lower. This rural hospital was supposed to be a quiet assignment.

It was a temporary escape from the relentless city rush.

Instead, pure chaos greeted me at the front desk.

"Somebody help her! You have to save my wife and my baby!"

The voice froze the blood in my veins. I knew that voice. I had listened to it whisper promises in the dark for seven years. I had said "I do" to that voice.

I turned toward the triage desk. There he was. Nathan, my husband. But what…?

He was supposed to be on a trip. It was our seventh anniversary tomorrow. He had kissed my forehead three days ago, packed his leather duffel, and promised to celebrate the second he returned. He told me he loved me.

Now, he stood in a rundown emergency room, pale with panic, demanding attention.

"Sir, please calm down," the triage nurse pleaded, typing frantically.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Nathan roared. He slammed his fist against the counter. "I want the best doctor you have! Right now! Money is no object!"

I walked toward him. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my steps were steady.

I stopped exactly three feet away.

He turned. His eyes swept over my green scrubs, my surgical cap, and my plastic face shield. He didn't recognize me.

"Are you the surgeon?" he demanded. He grabbed my forearm. "You have to save them. My wife is in labor. It’s too early. Please, you have to save my family."

My wife. My family.

The words hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. I swallowed the bitter bile rising in my throat. If I spoke, my voice would betray me. I simply nodded, pulled my arm from his forceful grasp, and pushed through the double doors into the operating room.

The harsh OR lights snapped me back into surgeon mode.

I approached the table where the anesthesiologist was prepping the patient.

I looked down at the woman writhing in agony on the table.

Victoria. Nathan’s young, ambitious personal assistant. The girl who always brought me coffee when I visited his office. The girl who smiled too brightly at his terrible jokes. The girl who called me "Mrs. Davis" with sickening sweetness.

She was heavily pregnant, her face slick with sweat, crying out in pain.

"Chart," I snapped. I held out my gloved hand.

The circulating nurse handed me the clipboard. Thirty-two weeks. Premature labor. Placental abruption. I read the cause of the trauma, documented from the patient's frantic confession upon admission.

Reckless, aggressive physical intimacy.

A bitter, dark laugh threatened to tear from my lips. My husband had literally screwed his mistress into premature labor. During her third trimester.

"Doctor, we need to move," the anesthesiologist warned. "Fetal heart rate is dropping fast."

"Scalpel," I ordered.

The cold steel was placed firmly in my hand. I made the first incision.

The OR doors swung open with a bang. Nathan burst in. He had bullied his way past the security and nurses, looking frantic in oversized, sterile scrubs.

"Victoria, baby, I'm here," he cried out. He rushed toward the head of the operating table.

I ignored him. I cut deeper with practiced, flawless precision.

"Oh my god," Nathan gasped.

I glanced up for a fraction of a second. Nathan was staring directly at the surgical field. His face turned a sickly, pale shade of gray. He swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling back.

"Get him a chair," I ordered the nurse.

But it was too late. Nathan collapsed, hitting the hard linoleum floor with a heavy thud. He fainted at the sight of blood. Typical. He always was a coward when things got messy.

"Leave him," I commanded when a nurse moved to help him. "Focus on the patient. He is not our priority."

My hands moved expertly. I clamped, cut, and suctioned. There was no room for error, no room for anger. I was saving a life. I reached in and gently pulled the infant free from the womb.

A tiny, weak cry filled the sterile room.

"Time of birth, 7:42 PM," I announced.

I handed my husband's illegitimate child to the waiting neonatal team. A boy. He had Nathan's nose. The betrayal stung anew, sharp and unforgiving, but I didn't flinch.

I turned back to Victoria to finish the surgery.

I stitched up the woman who had destroyed my marriage with the exact same care I gave every single patient.

An hour later, I stepped out of the OR. I stripped off my bloody gloves and mask, tossing them into the biohazard bin. Exhaustion weighed down my bones. My marriage was over. My entire life was a lie.

Before I could even process the heavy grief, a shrill, demanding voice echoed down the quiet hallway.

"Where is my grandson? Where is my son?"

I looked up. Nicole. My mother-in-law. She was marching down the corridor, her designer handbag swinging aggressively. She was screaming at a bewildered triage nurse.

"Ma'am, you can't be back here," the nurse said, trying to block her path.

"Do you know who I am?" Nicole shrieked. "My son, Nathan, is here! His wife just had my grandson! I demand to see them immediately!"

I froze. Wife. Grandson.

Nicole spotted me. She didn't look surprised to see me at this rural hospital. She looked annoyed.

"Candice," she snapped, marching right up to me. "What are you doing standing around? Did you deliver the baby? Is my grandson okay?"

"You knew," I whispered. My voice was hoarse, raw with shock.

Nicole rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at me with pure disdain. "Oh, grow up, Candice. Of course I knew. Nathan needs an heir. You’ve been too busy playing doctor in these middle-of-nowhere hospitals to give him one. Victoria is young. She’s fertile. She’s giving this family exactly what it deserves."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. It wasn't just Nathan. The entire family had plotted this. They had smiled in my face, eaten at my dining table, and celebrated my anniversaries, all while hiding Victoria and her growing belly.

"Nathan is resting," Nicole continued, completely unfazed by my devastation. "He was so worried about Victoria. He truly loves her, you know. You should probably pack your things before he gets home. It will just be easier for everyone."

She turned on her heel and demanded the nurse take her to the NICU.

I stood alone in the sterile hallway.