The day I went into labor, Rhys Abbott was cheating on me.

Throughout my entire postpartum confinement, he jetted around the globe with that woman, showering her with every luxury money could buy.

When he finally returned, he brought me a divorce agreement.

"Sophie doesn't like being called a homewrecker all the time, so I need to end this marriage."

"Just sign it. I waited until your recovery period was over before giving this to you—consider that my courtesy."

"I don't want the child anyway. Keep her as a memento. Sophie will give me children later."

I didn't say a word. I picked up the pen and signed.

I couldn't afford to delay even a second longer—not when the man I truly loved was waiting for me.

Three months later, I was pulled from my own wedding by an emergency call from the hospital.

A female patient had ruptured her corpus luteum during particularly vigorous intercourse. Worse, because she'd been sleeping with multiple partners simultaneously, she'd developed severe complications requiring immediate surgery.

I pushed open the door to the operating room—and what a coincidence.

Lying on that surgical table was none other than my ex-husband's fiancée.

——

I glanced down at the patient chart to confirm the name.

Sophie Pruitt.

Before my divorce from Rhys, I'd heard that name countless times from his lips. He called her "Sophie," always with such tender devotion it dripped from every syllable.

I'd imagined he must have found some perfect, transcendent love.

This was what that looked like.

I thought back to the day I gave birth. The labor had turned dangerous—hemorrhaging, doctors shouting for family members to be contacted.

But Rhys's phone went straight to voicemail. Every single time.

Meanwhile, photos of him and Sophie wrapped around each other outside luxury hotels flooded every tabloid.

With the Abbott family's resources, he could have buried those photos in an instant if he'd wanted to.

The fact that he didn't made the message clear: he was done hiding her.

He was ready to make her his wife.

When I finally regained consciousness after nearly dying, Rhys appeared at last.

Impatience flickered across his face. "Leonora Simmons, why do you insist on making yourself so pathetic?"

"You used to be a top student. You're a doctor, for God's sake. Did you really have to go through with having this baby?"

"I never wanted it. If you thought a child would secure your position, that's honestly laughable."

"I've been busy lately. I don't have time for your melodrama—"

His phone rang before he could finish.

He answered without hesitation, not bothering to step away. "Sophie..."

A voice cut through from the other end. "Rhys, is my birthday surprise ready yet?"

"You said you were just checking on that frumpy wife at the hospital. It's been half an hour—why aren't you back?"

"I heard she was bleeding everywhere? Gross. Hurry back before you get your shoes dirty."

Rhys chuckled softly. "My Sophie, always looking out for me. I'm on my way."

"Your gift is ready. I promise you'll be so surprised you won't be able to get out of bed..."

He walked out while still talking, never glancing back at me.

It didn't occur to him to look at our baby either.

But honestly? I wasn't heartbroken.

Once I confirmed my daughter was safe and healthy, I felt only relief.

Relief that I could finally hold the Abbott family patriarch to his promise.

I called Paul Abbott myself. "Grandpa Paul, the baby is healthy. May I leave now?"

Years ago, when the Abbott empire had teetered on the edge of bankruptcy, the old man had sought me out personally.

My birth chart, he claimed, was perfectly aligned to bring fortune to the Abbott bloodline. If I bore them an heir, their prosperity would be guaranteed for generations.

I was already a medical intern at the time. To anyone with a scientific education, it was superstitious nonsense.

But the wealthy believe what they want to believe.

When I refused, Old Mr. Delgado had my younger brother expelled from his university.

My parents called in tears, sobbing that they'd just been in a car accident—one step closer and they would have died.

I had no choice but to give in.

At the time, I already had a boyfriend. We'd been together for ten years.

He knew the truth. He was still waiting for me.

Old Mr. Delgado sighed. "I've seen the news these past few days. Since a forced marriage yields no sweetness, I'll let you go."

"But you're still weak. I've arranged a professional care team. Leave after your postpartum recovery."

Sophie Pruitt's screaming dragged me back to reality.

I scanned her condition.

Severe lacerations to her lower body, complicated by a raging infection. The tissue had already begun to necrotize. Worse than I'd anticipated.

She was convulsing from the pain, yet still hurling abuse.

"Useless! All of you, useless! You can't even handle a little wound? Keep this up and I'll have this hospital shut down by morning!"

"Men are all the same—disgusting pigs! They get what they want and disappear, leaving me here to suffer! When I get out, I'll skin every last one of them alive!"

I pulled on sterile gloves, my expression blank. "Miss Pruitt, the examination shows severe vaginal lacerations with multiple pathogenic infections. You need surgical debridement immediately."

The moment she heard surgery, she exploded again, ignoring the pain. "Surgery? Who gave you permission to cut me open? I'm warning you—if you leave a single scar on my body, you'll regret it!"

"I'm supposed to wear a couture wedding gown! I'm marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the country! Can you afford to pay for ruining that?"

Her eyes burned with venom as she glared at me. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Trying to destroy me? My fiancé is the richest man in the city! One word from him and every single one of you will be out on the street!"

I cut her off. "It's too early to worry about any of that. If we don't operate now, the infection will spread. Forget marriage—you could suffer permanent damage to your reproductive system. Or worse, it could kill you."

I was simply stating facts.

For patients like her, sympathy was worthless.

The nurse beside me handed over the surgical consent form. Sophie snatched it and tore it to shreds.

"Sign? I'm not signing anything!" she shrieked. "You quacks are trying to hurt me! I'll report every one of you! I'll destroy your careers!"

Then something seemed to occur to her. Her gaze turned venomous, locking onto me. "Who do you think you are? You think you're qualified to operate on me? Get your chief of surgery in here. Now. Or I'll have my fiancé tear this dump to the ground!"

If her condition weren't so critical, I wouldn't bother.

But duty is duty. I couldn't bring myself to walk away.

I had no patience for her theatrics. "I'm the only surgeon in this hospital who can perform this procedure. Where's your family? We need a signature."

At the mention of family, Sophie faltered. "Family? I don't need family. I make my own decisions."

"Just do the surgery! If you delay and something goes wrong, can you handle the consequences?"

I reminded her again. "Hospital policy requires a family member's signature. Or what about your fiancé?"

My tone stayed flat. Routine. Clinical.

Sophie's face contorted. "You'd better keep your mouths shut. If a single word of this leaks, I'll make sure none of you ever see another sunrise."

I raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.

I'd seen this kind of thing plenty of times in this hospital.

I simply placed the consent form in front of her. "Think it over and decide quickly. Time waits for no one—once your surgery is done, I still need to get back to my wedding..."

My words were cut off by a man's voice from behind.

"Wedding? Who are you marrying?"

"We've been divorced three months and you're already getting married?!"

Rhys stood at the operating room entrance, four bodyguards in black flanking him like a wall.

His tailored suit accentuated his tall frame, his presence radiating an almost suffocating pressure.

"Leonora, do you hear me talking to you?"

"What's this? Three months divorced and you've already forgotten your ex-husband?"

His gaze swept past me. Before I could respond, his expression shifted the moment he spotted Sophie on the operating table.

She lay there with an oxygen tube, her face deathly pale.

Pain flickered through Rhys's eyes instantly, and his voice turned glacial. "Leonora, what did you do to her?"

"She was perfectly fine when she left this morning! What have you two been doing behind my back?!"

Sophie raised a trembling hand toward him. "Rhys! She's trying to kill me!"

Her voice came out hoarse and broken. "She took a scalpel and twisted it inside me! She said, 'After this cut, you'll never have children again!' I begged her to stop, but she kept going until I nearly died from the pain..."

Before she could finish, violent coughs wracked her body. Her chest heaved, and the cardiac monitor shrieked its alarm.

Gasping for breath, she screamed with every ounce of strength she had left: "So you're Rhys's ex-wife!"

"Rhys, she's jealous! Jealous that I can give you children! Jealous that I'm going to be Mrs. Abbott!"

I dropped the blood-soaked gauze into the medical waste bin, then picked up the surgical record and waved it slowly in front of Rhys. "Mr. Abbott, a ruptured abscess in her lower body triggered sepsis. If your fiancée had arrived forty minutes later, she'd be in the morgue right now."

Before Rhys could take it, Sophie snatched the document away. "Rhys, she's lying! She's framing me on purpose!"

"She knows you divorced her for me, so she's using her position to get revenge!"

Sophie ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand. "Rhys, look—she deliberately missed the vein. She left bruises all over me, even on my neck!"

"She threatened me too! Said she'd leak my medical records to every media outlet so the whole world would know you married someone beneath her!"

I turned my head to look at Sophie.

Her body was indeed covered in purple marks.

But those had been there when she was admitted.

Obviously, they were love bites.

Rhys pulled her into his arms, then ground his heel into the surgical record on the floor. "Leonora, back then you tried to force me into marriage by holding my grandfather's life-saving medication hostage. When that failed, you decided to destroy Sophie instead?"

He let out a cold laugh. "Mercy Heart Hospital? You think you deserve to work here?"

"Clearly I was far too merciful during our divorce. I've spoiled you enough that you now dare to touch my woman."

"Leonora, I don't think you've ever experienced what happens when you cross Rhys Abbott."

The moment he finished speaking, two bodyguards stepped forward and wrenched my arms behind my back.

I was forced to my knees before Rhys and Sophie.

I lifted my gaze to meet his, my voice laced with mockery. "Rhys, aren't you the least bit curious why she'd rather die than have this surgery?"

The guards bound my wrists with restraints, the straps cutting into flesh, pain radiating through my entire body.

I'd hemorrhaged during a difficult delivery. I was still nursing. My body hadn't recovered. The forced position sent agony tearing through my abdomen.