Her eyes narrowed, her confident facade faltering for a brief second. “He doesn’t even remember you, Amelia,” she snapped, her tone sharp and biting. “You’re clinging to something that’s gone. It’s pathetic.”

I stepped closer, my voice cold and unwavering, forcing her to retreat into the corner she had tried to trap me in.

“You’re the one who’s pathetic,” I said firmly. “You can play your little games, but deep down, you’re scared. You know that no matter how much you lie, no matter how much you twist his mind, the truth has a way of surfacing.”

Evelyn tilted her head, her expression morphing into one of feigned pity. “Are you really a doctor, Amelia?” she asked mockingly. “You should understand Liam’s current condition, right?”

Her sarcasm burned like acid as she continued. “He has partial amnesia, Amelia. All Liam remembers is me. Why? Because what he remembers is an memory from years ago. He knows me as his college friend and colleague.

“So tell me, Amelia—doesn’t it make more sense for him to believe he married me than someone like you, who he just met a month before the wedding?”

Her words dripped with condescension, each one designed to cut deeper.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t the first person he saw when he woke up, Evelyn!” I roared, unable to contain my frustration.

Evelyn smirked, her calm demeanor only sharpening my anger further. “But the fact is,” she said, her voice smooth as silk, “you were too busy with your work. So don’t blame me for finding him awake first. Isn’t that the truth, Doctor?”

Her smugness was infuriating, and it pushed me over the edge. “I know you did this on purpose,” I said, my voice trembling with anger. “But don’t worry. I’ll make Liam see the truth with this.”

I raised the photo album in my hand. Evelyn’s eyes flickered to it, and for a brief moment, I saw fear. She recognized it immediately—our wedding photo album.

But her fear did not last. A slow, mocking smile spread across her face as she crossed her arms.

“Go ahead,” she said, her voice dripping with confidence. “Do whatever you want, Amelia. But don’t come crying when Liam pushes you away—again.”

With that, she brushed past me, her head held high as if she had already won.

I stayed behind for a moment, trying to catch my breath and steady the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Evelyn had managed to rattle me, to chip away at my resolve, but she had not broken it.

Looking down at the album in my hands, I clutched it tightly and stepped out of the restroom, continuing toward Liam’s room.

I believed somewhere beneath the fog of amnesia and manipulation, the man I had married still existed. I just had to find him.

However, I forgot one thing. I missed the fact that as a lawyer, Evelyn had the skills and resources to forge documents, to fabricate ‘proof’ that aligned with her lies. And Liam, in his vulnerable state, had believed her completely.

No matter how desperately I explained each photo, pointing out the details of our wedding day, Liam just barely glanced at the pages, his expression hard.

“These photos mean nothing to me, Amelia. They’re fake,” he said coldly.

I froze, my heart sinking. “What are you talking about? Liam, this is our wedding album. You picked the venue. You chose the flowers, you….”

“They’re fake,” he repeated, his tone firm. “Evelyn already showed me the evidence. She told me you’d pull something like this. Do you really think you can fool me with fabricated photos?”

My chest tightened as his words registered. Evelyn had already poisoned his mind, planting lies so deeply that even the truth looked like a fabrication.

“No, Liam,” I said, my voice trembling. “Evelyn is lying to you. She’s manipulating you.”

“She’s not,” Liam snapped. “Evelyn showed me proof. I trust her, not you.”

My breath caught in my throat. I realized too late how far Evelyn had gone.

Desperately, I kept pressing Liam, refusing to let Evelyn’s lies root deeper and settle in his fractured mind forever.

My voice trembled as I pleaded, “Liam, please listen to me.”

But Liam’s patience finally snapped. His face contorted with frustration as he shouted, “If I wasn’t sick, I would have kicked you out of my room myself. Get out now, or I will call the guards again!”

The force of his words hit me like a physical blow. Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and stinging.

For three years, Liam had never yelled at me—not once. Even when we argued, his voice had always remained steady, measured.

But those past two days, all I had received from him were yelling, insults, and indifference. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a stranger.

With my heart shattered, I turned on my heel and ran toward the door, unable to stay in that room any longer.

But just as I reached the doorway, I collided with someone entering the room—Evelyn.

“Argh!” Evelyn cried out dramatically, falling backward onto the floor, cradling Lucas protectively in her arms as if I had deliberately attacked her.

The sound of her cry sent Liam into a panic. Ignoring his own condition, he jumped up from the bed, yanking the IV needle from his arm.

Blood dripped freely from the puncture site, staining the white sheets, but he did not seem to notice or care.

“Evelyn!” Liam shouted, rushing to her side. He knelt down, his arms wrapping around her protectively. “Is there anything wrong? Are you hurt? Talk to me!”

Evelyn clung to him, her face contorted into an expression of faux pain.

Liam’s eyes darkened as he turned to me, his voice a thunderous roar. “You’ve gone too far, Amelia! How dare you?!”

“Liam, it was an accident….” I tried to explain, my voice cracking with desperation.

But he did not let me finish. “Don’t you dare come into our lives again, or I swear, I will sue you!”

Without sparing me another glance, Liam helped Evelyn to her feet, his arm securely around her as he guided her into the room.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving me standing in the hallway, alone and defeated.

All eyes were on me. Their silent stares burned into my skin, suffocating me with judgment and pity.

Trying to salvage what little dignity I had left, I chose to give in and quietly return to my room.

With a sudden surge of anger and helplessness, I threw the album onto my desk and headed back straight to the ER. Work was the only thing keeping me together at that time.

But as the hours ticked by, the toll of skipped meals and emotional exhaustion began to weigh on me.

By the late afternoon, I found myself gripping the edge of the desk at the nurse’s station, my knuckles white as waves of nausea and dizziness rolled over me.

The nurse at the station glanced up from her paperwork, her brows furrowing in concern. “Is there anything I can help you with, Dr. Amelia?” she asked, her voice soft and worried.

I forced myself to straighten, shaking my head even as my legs felt unsteady. “I’m fine,” I lied, plastering on a smile that felt more like a grimace.

Her expression did not change, her sympathy evident. “You’ve been overworking yourself, doc. Please take a break.”

I brushed off her concern with a weak wave of my hand. “No worries,” I said, my voice thin. “I’ll feel better after some medicine.”

The nurse hesitated, but eventually nodded and returned to her work.

However, before I headed toward the medicine cabinet, determined to grab something for my stomach, the world seemed to tilt and sway, and the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Suddenly, I dreamed of Evelyn. Her image filled my mind. Her perfect smile, the soft-spoken words I had once believed were genuine.

But it turned out, behind that polished mask of kindness was a woman who saw an opportunity and seized it.

Actually, I had always been aware of Evelyn’s presence, even from the first time I met Liam.

It was during one of my late-night shifts as an intern at the hospital three years ago.

The Emergency Room was bustling, as it usually was, when an ambulance arrived with a patient suffering from a critical gunshot wound.

“He’s losing too much blood,” a paramedic yelled.

“Get me a 16-gauge IV and prepare him for surgery!” I barked, adrenaline coursing through me.

As he was scheduled in the operating room, the name of the patient was finally revealed, Liam Carlisle.

I learned that he was a prosecutor, infamous for being cold and unyielding when it came to criminals.

Apparently, his shooter was one of those criminals—a prisoner enraged by the harsh sentence Liam had recommended to the judge.

I remember thinking, ‘This man’s life is dangerous.’ His world seemed shrouded in peril, radiating a kind of intensity that warned others to stay away.

After the surgery, I visited his room for a post-op checkup. His condition was stable, though his piercing blue eyes followed me every time I walked in.

“Dr. Amelia,” he said once, his voice still hoarse from the anesthesia. “Do doctors always look this serious, or am I just lucky to have one who never smiles?”

I raised an eyebrow at his attempt at humor. “If you’re well enough to crack jokes, Mr. Carlisle, you’re well enough to cooperate with your recovery plan.”

He chuckled, wincing slightly from the pain. I did not think much of it at the time, chalking it up to his personality.

It was during one of these visits that I met Evelyn for the first time.

“You must be Dr. Amelia,” she greeted me with a warm smile. “I’m Evelyn, Liam’s...friend.”

Friend. That word had struck me as odd, even then. The way she lingered at his bedside, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand, suggested there was more to their relationship.

As a woman, I could not ignore the way she looked at him. Evelyn liked Liam. That much was clear.

And honestly, the two of them looked like a perfect match. She was a lawyer, and he was a prosecutor. Their worlds aligned seamlessly.

However, the day before Liam was discharged from the hospital, he suddenly sat up in bed, wincing but determined as I did the last check-up.

“Amelia,” he said, his voice steady despite his injuries.

“Yes, Mr. Carlisle?” I replied, not looking up from my notes.

“Stop calling me that,” he said with a smirk. “It’s Liam. And I want to tell you something.”

I glanced at him, startled by the serious look in his eyes.

“I like you,” he said bluntly. “I’ve liked you since the first moment I saw you in the ER. Even when I was in pain, all I could think about was how kind and determined you looked. I want to get to know you, Amelia.”

My jaw nearly dropped. I had not seen that coming. Yes, he had joked around with me during his recovery, but I had dismissed it as banter.

“But Mr. I mean, Liam,” I stammered. “You...you don’t even know me.”

“Then let me get to know you,” he said, his eyes holding mine.

Despite my initial hesitation, his persistence won me over. Over the following weeks, Liam pursued me relentlessly, breaking down the walls I had built around my heart. I fell in love with him and when he proposed to me, I said yes.

Through him, I also grew closer to Evelyn. She had seemed so supportive of our relationship, always smiling and encouraging. I felt foolish for ever thinking she had feelings for Liam.

At least, that was what I thought back then.

However, then I realized my thought, my intuition was not wrong.

“Amelia, wake up!” a voice called out urgently, shaking me from the fog of unconsciousness.

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh hospital lights. My professor stood over me, her face etched with worry.

After making sure everything was alright, she was advising me to skip my night shift that day and rest.

I nodded weakly, feeling grateful that there was still someone who cared. “Thank you, Prof. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After being discharged from the observation room, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and checked it.

My heart sank when I saw the screen light up with dozens of missed calls from Theodore’s daycare.

My hands trembled as I called back, dread gnawing at me with every ring.

The voice on the other end answered quickly, filled with urgency. “Mrs. Hawthorne, we’re so sorry to disturb you, but Theodore has developed a high fever.”

My heart dropped. “A high fever?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“We’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon,” the attendant explained. “When we couldn’t get through, we called Theodore’s father—the number listed as secondary on the registration form.”

“And?” I asked, already knowing the answer would hurt.

The attendant hesitated before continuing, her voice tinged with discomfort. “He just answered coldly and said, ‘Take him to the doctor. Don’t bother me with that problem again.’”

Tears welled in my eyes as anger and heartbreak washed over me. Even when our son was sick, Liam refused to care. He was too busy playing the doting partner to Evelyn and her child.

“I’m coming right now,” I said quickly, grabbing my bag.

“Actually,” the attendant continued. “We’ve already brought Theodore to the hospital where you work. He’s being examined by a pediatrician right now.”

I rushed to the pediatric section, my heart racing with worry. When I arrived, I spotted the daycare attendant waiting near the entrance. She looked relieved to see me and immediately came over.

“Thank you so much,” I said, gratitude pouring out of me. “I’m sorry for the trouble, and I’ll reimburse you for the travel expenses.”

She waved her hand dismissively, smiling kindly. “It’s no trouble, Mrs. Hawthorne. We just wanted to make sure Theodore got the care he needed.”

Just then, I heard a familiar voice. “Amelia,” someone called gently.

I turned and saw Dr. Nathaniel Reed approaching, a warm yet concerned expression on his face.

He was a pediatrician and an old friend from university. His calm presence was a sharp contrast to my spiraling thoughts.

“Nathan,” I breathed. “How’s Theo? How’s my son?”

Nathaniel placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and gestured for me to follow him into the examination room.

“Amelia, it’s going to be alright,” he assured me. “His fever isn’t too high, and it seems like a simple viral infection. I’ll run some tests just to be sure, but there’s no need to panic. He’s in good hands.”

I let out a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension ease from my chest. “Thank you, Nathan,” I whispered, my voice breaking slightly as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

He offered me a small smile. “You know I’d do anything to help you and Theo. Just take a deep breath, okay?”

I tried to steady my breathing as I watched him work.

Despite the situation, his calmness was reassuring, a quiet pillar of strength I had not realized I needed.

Nathaniel had always been like that.

Back in university, we often ended up in the same classes, working on projects together or staying late in the library to study. He was the kind of person everyone liked—kind, dependable, and always willing to lend a helping hand.

Some of our mutual friends used to tease me about dating Nathaniel. “You two would make the perfect couple,” they would say, nudging me playfully.

But I had always laughed it off, dismissing the idea.

To me, Nathaniel was my safe space, a friend who never judged or pressured me. I valued his presence too much to risk losing it over something as fragile as romance.

Perhaps that was selfish of me, but Nathaniel never seemed to mind. He was also one of the few people that knew about my marriage with Liam.

So, I could not help but feel a deep gratitude for his presence in my life.

Nathaniel turned to me again, holding Theodore gently as he spoke. “He’ll need some rest, so let him be under my supervision for three days. I promise you he will be okay after that.”

Those words brought a small, shaky smile to my face.

“Thank you, Nathan,” I said again, meaning it more than ever.

After moving Theodore to the ward and watching him finally sleep peacefully, I let out a sigh of relief.

The sight of his small chest rising and falling rhythmically eased the weight on my heart, if only slightly.

Quietly, I stepped out of the pediatric room. My chest burned with anger and frustration as I walked through the hospital halls toward Liam’s room.

Earlier, I had sent him a scathing message, cursing him for ignoring the daycare attendant’s call and letting Theodore suffer.

But unsurprisingly, there was no reply—just silence. I had no choice but to confront him in person.

It did not matter whether Liam considered Theodore his legitimate son or dismissed him as a mistake. The fact remained, Theodore was his son, and he deserved his father’s care.

It was not just for show that I had listed Liam’s number as the emergency contact at the daycare.

As I reached the door and pushed it open, I yelled, “Liam, Theodore is two years old. He’s sick right now with a high fever, and you didn’t even care to answer the daycare’s call! What kind of father are you?”

He glared at me, his patience clearly waning. “I’m not his father,” he said, “Stop bringing him into my life. I won’t entertain this anymore.”

The world around me seemed to stop. His words echoed in my ears, each one a dagger stabbing into my chest.

I took a step forward, my hands trembling. “Liam,” I said, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and desperation, “How can you say that?”