The weight of their accusations pushed me over the edge. My emotions spiraled, uncontrollable and raw.

With a snap, the eyebrow pencil in my hand broke. My chest heaved as fury consumed me.

"You fucking bastards! You all want to die, don’t you?" I shouted, my voice trembling with rage.

"It’s your fault—your fault my eyebrows are crooked! I’ll stab you to death!"

I shot up from the chair, my eyes wild, the broken eyebrow pencil clenched in my fist like a weapon. My gaze burned into the crowd that had so brazenly judged me moments before. Without hesitation, I lunged at them.

Chaos erupted. My parents-in-law and Evangeline sprang into action, rushing to restrain me. Evangeline’s voice cut through the panic.

"Stop talking! She has severe depression—she can become irritable and lash out!"

The crowd recoiled in fear, their earlier boldness extinguished. Silence fell as my parents-in-law gently guided me back to my seat, their hands trembling as they held me.

My mother-in-law knelt before me again, her voice cracking with desperation.

"Vivienne, please! Leander’s life is in your hands. I’m begging you—control yourself and save him!"

Her tears fell freely. "Whatever you want, we’ll give it to you. Even our lives, if that’s what it takes!"

I stared blankly at the wall opposite me, her words fading into the background. My body felt numb, my mind an empty void.

Suddenly, the operating room doors flew open again. An assistant ran out, his face pale with urgency.

"Dr. Drake! Come quickly—the patient has no heartbeat!"

Evangeline turned to me, gripping my arm tightly.

"Vivienne! Do you really want to watch your husband die?"

I didn’t move. My gaze remained fixed on the wall, my face devoid of emotion.

Evangeline shook me, her voice climbing in pitch.

"Vivienne! Wake up! Leander is dying!"

A shiver ran through me. Slowly, I turned to her, my expression blank and detached.

"What?"

"Your husband is dying! You’re the only one who can save him!" she repeated, desperation thick in her voice.

I raised my trembling hands, staring at them as though they belonged to someone else. My voice, hollow and distant, answered.

"I can’t save him..."

My mother-in-law’s patience snapped when she realized I was resolute in my decision not to save Leander. Her voice, filled with fury, echoed in the corridor as she stormed toward me.

"Vivienne! You are heartless! Even if your hands are trembling, you must save Leander!"

Her voice cracked with emotion. "Leander loves you more than anything. He’s treated you like a princess, kept you in the palm of his hand. And this is how you repay him?"

Her words came faster now, each one sharper than the last.

"Since the day you married, he’s been working tirelessly to give you the best life. Do you know how he got that heart attack? It was from overwork—for you! You ungrateful woman!"

Her accusations cut deep, not because they weren’t true but because they grazed the surface of a reality she didn’t understand.

She wasn’t wrong. Leander was remarkable, even by any standard. Despite coming from the countryside, he had ambition and drive that set him apart. We had met in college, and our relationship blossomed into marriage. Over the past five years, he built a life for us—a villa, a luxury car, financial security—all through his relentless hard work.

But what they didn’t see, what no one saw, was the emotional toll of living behind the facade of Leander's "perfect" life. They didn’t know what I endured, what lay hidden behind the glittering image of happiness and success.

If they knew, would they still call me ungrateful? Would they still demand I save the man who had, intentionally or not, been the source of my suffering?

But I wasn’t about to explain all this to my in-laws, who had no grasp of what depression really was. They wouldn’t understand, nor could they solve my problems.

Seeing my indifference, my father-in-law stepped forward, his jaw tight with anger and desperation.

"Vivienne! Just go in and save Leander. We’ll sign a waiver—right here, right now. No matter what happens, we’ll never hold you responsible, whether the operation succeeds or fails!"

His voice softened slightly, though his resolve didn’t waver.

"We’ll even compensate you for the risks and consequences of breaking hospital regulations."

I froze for a moment, his words catching me off guard.

"Compensate? How?"

He hesitated, then swallowed hard. "All the shares, the villa, the car, the company—everything Leander has worked for over the years. We’ll transfer it all to your name!"

For the first time, their desperation made me waver. My mind spun, caught between hesitation and disbelief.

Before I could respond, the assistant burst out of the operating room again, his face pale and panicked. He turned to my in-laws, his voice trembling with urgency.

"The patient is dying! He said he was sorry to Ms. Vivienne and promised to treat her well in the next life..."

The assistant’s words cut through the air like a dagger. My parents-in-law screamed in anguish, releasing their grip on me as they stumbled into the operating room.

Moments later, they rushed back out, their faces pale and streaked with tears. Without hesitation, they collapsed to their knees before me.

"Vivienne, please!" my mother-in-law sobbed, her voice trembling. "Please give Leander the surgery. Dr. Drake said there’s still a chance to save him!"

She knelt closer, bowing her head to the floor as if her desperation could reach my heart. My father-in-law, hands shaking, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from a nearby nurse. He hastily scrawled a property donation agreement, signed it, and thrust it toward me with his wife’s signature already scribbled below his own.

Tears welled in their eyes, the weight of their hope bearing down on me. For a moment, I faltered.

My parents-in-law had always been kind to me. I remember the summer when Leander first took me to his hometown. They’d killed their only egg-laying hen to prepare chicken soup for me, a stranger they treated like family.

They had held my hands warmly and said, "We’ve always wanted a daughter. Since we didn’t have one, we’ll treat you as ours."

After I married Leander, their generosity never wavered. Every month, they drove miles to deliver fresh vegetables they’d grown themselves—free from pesticides, full of care.

Even as our lives improved and Leander and I moved to the city, they refused to leave their modest home for fear of disturbing us. When I told them I wasn’t ready for children, they didn’t pressure me, even though I knew they longed for grandchildren.

For years, I thought I had been blessed beyond measure to have a husband and family like this.

Until I uncovered the truth about Leander. Until everything I believed shattered.

The weight of those memories pressed on my chest, my heart tightening as conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm me.

Evangeline’s sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His glare was cold, his words biting.

"Vivienne! You’re despicable! Even now, with Leander’s life hanging by a thread, all you can think about is the Hayes Family’s property?"

His voice rose with fury.

"Your husband is dying! Do you even have a shred of humanity left? You’re heartless!"

My parents-in-law noticed my unsettling demeanor and quickly pulled Evangeline aside, their voices trembling with urgency.

"Dr. Drake, please don’t provoke her! If she has another episode, Leander will truly have no hope!"

Evangeline took a deep breath, composing herself. When she turned back to me, her expression was cold, her tone sharp and resolute.

"Vivienne, fine! If you refuse to save him, I will. It’s just a heart rupture operation—I’ll do it myself!" Her voice was firm, almost defiant. "I don’t believe for one second that no one else is capable except you!"

Her determination struck a chord with the onlookers. Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.

"That’s the true spirit of an angel in white, saving lives without hesitation!" one said.

"Vivienne is trash. What kind of doctor abandons their ethics like this?" another spat, their disdain palpable.

"If Leander survives, Dr. Drake deserves every reward! She’s the real hero here!"

Without sparing me another glance, Evangeline stormed into the operating room, her urgency palpable. I simply sank back into my chair, watching the scene unfold with cold indifference.

The drama playing out before me was almost comical. Their performances were so convincing they might as well have been auditioning for an Oscar.

My parents-in-law, now despondent, slumped into chairs nearby, their hands wringing with anxiety as they waited for the operation’s outcome.

I smirked inwardly, my thoughts laced with bitter amusement.

Let’s see what act they’ll put on next.

Perhaps exhaustion finally claimed me, because I dozed off in the chair. When I woke up, the corridor was quieter, the tension in the air somewhat subdued.

I spotted Ronan, the assistant from the operating room, walking toward me in plain clothes, having shed his protective suit. Rising from my seat, I intercepted him.

"Is Leander saved?" I asked, my voice even but laced with curiosity.

Ronan smiled, the tension in his face finally easing.

"Don’t worry. He’s saved."

My heart clenched, a mix of relief and unease washing over me.

"Which ward?" I asked, my voice steady but strained.

"307," he replied.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned and headed toward the ward.

Inside, Leander was propped up against the pillows, his complexion pale and fragile. My parents-in-law hovered over him, carefully helping him sip water. Evangeline stood close by, her voice gentle as she peppered him with questions about his recovery. Even though the hospital director was present, his expression was a mix of pride and approval as he addressed the room.

"I didn’t realize our hospital had such talent in cardiac surgery," he said, looking at Evangeline. "Dr. Drake, you’ve proven yourself to be truly exceptional."

Leander’s gaze shifted to me as I entered. His expression froze briefly, but he forced a weak smile, tilting his lips upward.

"Vivienne, you’re here," he said, his voice barely audible.

The hospital director’s eyes followed his, landing on me. His expression hardened, and his tone turned icy.

"So, you’ve finally decided to show up," he said, each word sharp as a scalpel. "Vivienne, I never expected you to be so rigid—so heartless. I understand you’re on leave due to depression, and I respected that by pulling you from the surgical roster. But shouldn’t there be exceptions in emergencies?"

He stepped closer, his voice rising, each sentence cutting deeper.

"Don’t tell me Leander is your husband. Even if he were just another patient, when you’re the only one qualified to perform the operation, isn’t it your duty to step in? What were you afraid of? Repercussions? Failure due to your condition? Those fears are valid, but they don’t excuse standing idly by while someone’s life hangs in the balance. This is not just a lapse in judgment—it’s a failure of morality."

He paused, letting his words sink in before delivering the final blow.

"I’m deeply disappointed in you, Dr. Hayes. With this behavior, you’ve proven yourself unfit to practice medicine here. Effective immediately, you are dismissed from your duties. You are no longer a part of this hospital."

His tone was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

Outside the ward, the murmurs of onlookers grew louder, their disdain cutting through the air like knives.

"Isn’t that the infamous Dr. Vivienne Hayes?" someone whispered loudly. "The one who let her own husband nearly die?"

"Yeah, I heard she was just sitting there doing her makeup while he was dying. A monster in a doctor’s coat," another voice sneered.

"If I were that man, I’d have divorced her long ago. Honestly, I might’ve strangled her myself!" one voice sneered, dripping with contempt.

The crowd’s accusations and insults swirled around me like a storm, but I paid them no mind. My gaze remained fixed on Leander.

To my surprise, Leander didn’t lash out. Instead, he spoke softly, his tone laced with a mix of understanding and sorrow.

"Vivienne, I know you’re struggling with depression, and that’s why you couldn’t operate. I don’t blame you."

He paused, his expression growing heavier, then continued with a pained sigh.

"But what I can’t understand is this—when I was on the brink of death, I heard you were trying to take my property from my parents. Don’t you care about my life at all? I’m your husband!"

His words hung in the air, stirring the crowd’s ire. They erupted with renewed fervor, their judgment ringing loud and clear.

"This poor man! Such a saint, married to a heartless monster!"

"She didn’t save his life, and now she’s after his money? What kind of person does that?"

"She doesn’t deserve to be called a doctor, let alone a wife!"

I glanced at the seething onlookers, their faces twisted in righteous indignation. Then, I turned back to Leander, my expression calm but my heart burning with contempt.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, echoing through the room.

"Dear husband," I began, my voice dripping with mockery, "what an impressive performance you’ve put on."

I stepped closer, holding his gaze. "But don’t you think it’s time to drop the act? This little show of yours—shouldn’t it be over now?"