Chapter 4

That afternoon, word that I'd once spent time in a lawless border region spread like wildfire.

The nurses whispered among themselves, and even patients stopped booking appointments with me.

"I never would have guessed Dr. Whitney had a past like that."

"After being in a place like that, can she really still be professional?"

"I heard about where she was. Ugh, she's really not clean."

I stood in the doorway of the break room with my water cup in hand, and a few young nurses looked embarrassed and hurried away.

The director called me into his office and set the anonymous email on my desk.

"What exactly is going on here?"

I picked up the document. My fingertips went cold, but my voice stayed steady.

"Director, I'll handle this."

"I can't change my past, but I can promise you that every minute I'm sitting in that exam room, I'm a qualified doctor."

The director looked at me and nodded.

After all, in my two years at the hospital, I had been dutiful and dedicated, with an excellent record.

As I walked out of the office, Delia appeared in front of me, her eyes smug.

"My dear sister, do you like the gift I gave you?"

"Three years in that border region is nothing. Being thrown out of the house is nothing. I'm going to make sure you can never hold your head up again for the rest of your life, that you live like a rat in a gutter."

I stopped, looked at her, and suddenly smiled.

"Delia, are you sure you want to talk about this with me here?"

She hadn't expected that reaction. She froze for a moment, then lifted her chin.

"What? Afraid people will hear about the shameful things you've done?"

I took a step forward, my gaze sweeping over her swollen belly.

"Compared to some people who stole their whole life through scheming and lies, I'd say my past can stand in the light just fine."

Her expression shifted slightly, and she instinctively shielded her stomach.

I didn't give her a chance to speak, and went on.

"Gifts should go both ways, so I've prepared one for you too."

"I hope you'll like it when the time comes."

A flicker of panic crossed Delia's eyes, but it was quickly covered by her forced composure.

"What are you talking about? Who would ever believe someone who came back from a place like that—"

I said nothing. I just watched her quietly.

Delia was frightened by my stare, clutched her stomach, and collapsed to the floor in pain.

The scene instantly dissolved into chaos.

The head nurse cried out, "Quick, a stretcher!"

Delia was lifted onto a gurney, her face pale, but one hand still jabbed at me, her voice shrill.

"It was her—Dorothy provoked me. She's trying to hurt my baby."

Every eye landed on me, some suspicious, some prying and contemptuous.

I stood where I was and simply spoke calmly.

"Suspected preterm labor. Prep for an emergency C-section, and notify the pediatrician to be on standby."

Derek arrived the moment he heard, grabbing my wrist so hard he nearly crushed the bone.

"Dorothy, if anything happens to Delia and the baby, I will never let you off."

Mr. Dickerson rushed in and slapped me across the face.

Blood instantly welled up at the corner of my mouth, and my ears rang.

Mrs. Dickerson, stricken, pointed at me and cursed too.

I looked at the way they were all stamping and raging, and laughed out loud.

"What are you laughing at?" Mrs. Dickerson glared at me.

I took out my phone and hit play.

Delia's smug, vicious voice from moments ago poured out.

My dear sister, do you like the gift? Three years in that border region is nothing...

At the same time, negative news about Delia climbed into the trending headlines.

Shocking! Mrs. Rowe has a record of multiple miscarriages overseas.

To drive out the real heiress, she went so far as to stage the whole thing and hire a man to rape her—leaked audio inside.

Mrs. Dickerson's pointing hand froze in the air, and Mr. Dickerson's raised hand stopped dead.

I slowly wiped the blood from the corner of my lips, my gaze sweeping calmly over each of them.

"Did you hear that clearly? What exactly is the truth?"

The operating room door flew open, and a nurse rushed out, her voice urgent.

"Mr. Rowe, Mrs. Rowe is in critical condition. She's hemorrhaging—please sign the papers, quickly!"