Lorraine

The hospital hallways felt colder than usual as I walked toward Room 201. My footsteps echoed in the silence, each step feeling heavier than the last. I had spent the entire night replaying the events of yesterday—Hendrix’s words, his utter shamelessness, the way he held Althea as if she were his entire world. And now, I had to face them again.

“Dr. Lorraine Scott,” a colleague called as I passed the nurses’ station. “Your patient in Room 201 seems to be having some complications. The attending nurse has already reviewed her records.”

I swallowed hard. There was no avoiding this. “I’ll check on her now,” I said, my voice still hoarse from the cold I had been nursing.

Dressed in full PPE, I stepped into Althea’s room, my identity still hidden. Hendrix sat by her bedside, feeding her small bites of fruit. They looked like the picture of a perfect couple—him gazing at her with adoration, her smiling softly at him, her hands resting protectively over her stomach.

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to push past my emotions.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice slightly muffled by the mask. “I need to go over your medical history before proceeding with any further treatment.”

Althea turned to me, her eyes filled with curiosity. “Of course, doctor,” she said, sitting up straighter.

I looked down at her chart. “It says here that you had a heart transplant in the past?”

She nodded. “Yes, about two years ago.”

I felt my breath hitch, but I remained professional. “Given your history, pregnancy can be extremely dangerous for you,” I explained carefully. “Patients who have undergone a heart transplant are at a significantly higher risk of complications, including organ rejection, increased strain on the cardiovascular system, and a higher likelihood of preeclampsia. You’ll need close monitoring, and there’s a possibility that carrying to full term may not be viable.”

Hendrix frowned, wrapping an arm around Althea protectively. “Are you saying she shouldn’t have this baby?”

“I’m saying that she needs to be prepared for any potential complications,” I clarified, keeping my voice neutral. “She’ll need a specialized treatment plan to ensure both her safety and the baby’s.”

Althea placed a hand on her stomach, her expression softening. “I don’t care what happens to me. I just want this baby to live.”

My throat tightened, but I nodded. “We’ll do everything we can.”

The conversation ended there, and I turned to leave. But just as I reached the door, their voices drifted to me, stopping me in my tracks.

“I’m just so grateful to still be alive,” Althea murmured. “Thank you, love, for saving my life.”

Hendrix sighed, his voice gentle and full of warmth. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“I know,” she said sweetly. “You even sacrificed your wife’s mother just so I could get a heart donor. I can’t believe she actually signed a paper agreeing to donate her organs once she passed.”

My breath caught in my throat. My fingers dug into the doorframe as I strained to hear every word.

“She was old anyway,” Hendrix said nonchalantly. “She had a ninety percent chance of waking up, but I told the doctors to give up on her. Thank God I had the right to decide since I was married to her daughter. It was an easy choice.”

Everything inside me shattered. My legs nearly gave out, and I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My mother… she hadn’t died naturally. She had been murdered. Sacrificed for this woman lying in bed, smiling as if she hadn’t benefited from the death of someone I loved more than anything.

Tears blurred my vision, but my rage burned hotter than my grief. I wanted to scream, to storm inside and tear apart the man I had once loved. The man I had devoted my life to.

I staggered back, my entire body trembling. My mother had been my anchor, my safe haven. After her accident, I had prayed for her recovery every single night, holding onto that sliver of hope that she would wake up. And Hendrix—my own husband—had stolen that from me. He had looked the doctors in the eyes and told them to let her go, all for Althea.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my chest heaving. The betrayal was so deep it felt like I was drowning in it.

How long had I been blind to this man? How long had he been pretending to love me while planning my mother’s death behind my back?

My feet moved on their own, taking me away from that door, away from that room filled with their twisted love, away from the suffocating walls of the hospital. My ears rang, my vision swam, and I barely made it to the nearest stairwell before my knees gave out. I gasped for air, but it felt like my lungs had collapsed under the weight of what I had just heard.

The tears came then, unstoppable and violent. My sobs wracked through my body, each one filled with more agony than the last. I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to stifle the sounds, but the pain was unbearable.

I had spent years loving a man who had never truly loved me. A man who had taken away the only family I had left.

I had lost my mother.

And now, I had lost myself.

Lorraine

I clenched my fists as I stared at my phone, my mind racing with everything I had just uncovered. My breath came out in ragged gasps, my body trembling with a mixture of fury and heartbreak. I had just known Hendrix was unfaithful, that he was a liar, a cheater, a man who had thrown away our marriage like it was nothing—but this? This was beyond anything I could have imagined.

My mother hadn’t died naturally.

She had been sacrificed.

Tears blurred my vision as I pressed the phone to my ear, my fingers shaking as I called Dr. Patel, my colleague in the U.S. where my mother had been confined. He picked up almost immediately.

“Lorraine?” His voice was filled with concern. “I didn’t expect to hear from you. Is everything alright?”

“Dr. Patel,” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I need to know the truth about my mother’s death. I was just told… told that she was taken off life support, that her heart was donated. But I never signed anything. I need to know why this decision was made.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, he sighed. “Lorraine, we thought you knew. The decision was made based on a legal document. It stated that your mother’s appointed guardian had opted for withdrawal of care to prevent prolonged suffering. Her coma prognosis, while not hopeless, had uncertain outcomes. Some families choose to discontinue life support when they believe their loved ones wouldn’t want to live in a vegetative state.”

My stomach churned. “But she wasn’t in a vegetative state. She had a high probability of waking up. Ninety percent! How is that considered hopeless?”

“Her guardian made the call.” His voice turned hesitant. “And, Lorraine… the documents had your signature.”

I went still. “What?”

“Hendrix came in with the papers. It had your signature on it. We assumed you discussed it with him beforehand.”

A sharp ringing filled my ears. I struggled to process his words. My signature? But I never signed anything. My mother had still been alive, fighting, and I—

I hadn’t even been there.

That day, I had been in another hospital, presenting my research. I hadn’t even known she was being taken off life support until it was too late.

My blood ran cold.

Hendrix had forged my signature.

That monster had taken my mother’s life to save his mistress.

The betrayal hit me like a physical blow. I staggered back, gripping the edge of the hospital desk for support. A strangled cry escaped my throat, my vision turning red with fury. How could he? How could the man I once loved, the man I married, do something so vile?

Tears streamed down my face, my chest heaving. My colleagues on the other end of the line were calling my name, but I couldn’t respond. I felt like I was suffocating. My mother had been murdered. She had been stolen from me. And I had spent all this time blind to the truth, wasting my grief on believing it had been fate, when it had been Hendrix all along.

I wiped my tears and took a deep breath.

No more.

I would make him pay.

I would make sure he suffered for what he did.

Without another second to waste, I turned to my hospital’s administrator in Mexico. “I need to leave early. Something urgent came up.”

They hesitated, but my expression must have told them not to argue. Within an hour, I had rescheduled my flight. My hands were steady now. My heart, though broken, was burning with a newfound resolve.

On the way to the airport, I pulled out my phone and sent Hendrix a single message.

[Let’s get divorced.]

No explanations. No warnings. Just those three words.

Then I turned off my phone, knowing the storm I had just unleashed.

By the time I reached the airport, my phone buzzed with countless missed calls and messages.

Hendrix was panicking.

I didn’t answer a single one.

I boarded my flight, staring out of the window as the plane ascended, leaving behind the city that had held so much pain.

Hendrix would soon realize that his carefully constructed world was about to collapse.

—

Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Hendrix’s phone slipped from his hand, his eyes wide with disbelief as he read the message over and over again.

“What the hell?” he muttered, immediately calling Lorraine.

No answer.

He tried again. And again. And again.

Still nothing.

Althea, noticing his distress, frowned. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Lorraine,” Hendrix said through clenched teeth. “She just texted me saying she wants a divorce.”

Althea smirked, unconcerned. “Good. It’s about time.”

Before he could respond, a nurse walked into the room with a clipboard. “Ms. Althea, your discharge papers are ready.”

Althea raised a brow. “That was fast.”

The nurse smiled. “Doctor Lorraine gave the approval earlier.”

Hendrix’s breath caught in his throat. “What did you say?”

The nurse turned to him. “Doctor Lorraine Scott. She was the one who helped during your wife's emergency earlier.”

Hendrix felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “Wait! What did you say? Lorraine?! ”