The nurse’s face darkened, her tone laced with anger.

“Fine. If you refuse to sign, I’ll have Dr. Crowther come down and deal with you personally!”

I almost laughed.

When Lucian Crowther first joined the company, I donated a million to his department just so he could have a better working environment and an easier start. Everyone in the hospital — from the director to the nurses — knew how much I doted on him.

And maybe that’s why they all thought they could threaten me with his name.

But now? My love for Lucian was dead and buried.

Threatening me with him was laughable.

That night, I was just about to send the divorce agreement, freshly drafted by the legal department, when I saw Ivy’s IG Stories.

Candlelit dinner. Red wine. Steak. Heart-shaped hand signs.

And then, the one that made my blood run cold — Lucian’s back in the Medical Affairs Office, deleting surveillance footage.

Her caption read:

“Today I made a huge mistake on the operating table. If you hadn’t taken the blame for me, I might never graduate. I can’t repay you, so I can only give you my body ️”

I let out a short, cold laugh and hit “like.”

Screenshot. Saved.

Another piece of evidence for my collection.

Then I casually sent him the divorce agreement.

“Look over it. If you’re fine with it, come back and sign.”

Less than a minute later, my phone rang.

“Seraphine, what do you mean by this?” His voice was sharp, almost angry.

I bit back the chill crawling up my spine and prepared to talk about the divorce.

But he didn’t let me speak.

“Stop framing me! Ivy’s posts have nothing to do with your sister’s death. If you dare come to the hospital, stir up trouble, and ruin her graduation — or worse, jeopardize my position — we’re done! We’ll divorce!”

He hung up on me.

I sat there holding my phone, stunned.

My heart had already gone cold, but it still managed to ache. For one foolish moment, I thought he’d called because he saw the divorce agreement.

But no — he hadn’t even looked at it.

He only called to protect his mistress.

Suppressing my fury, I typed out a message.

“Lucian, I suggest you find out exactly whose sister was on that operating table today before you start barking at me.”

But when I hit send, a red exclamation point appeared.

Blocked.

I laughed aloud, bitter and incredulous.

Fine. If he didn’t care about his own sister, why should I?

That very afternoon, while entertaining an important client at work, I got the call — Helena had been in a car accident.

Without hesitation, I dropped everything and rushed to the hospital.

But when I arrived, the ward was empty — no one from the Lin family was with her.

I called Lucian.

He sounded irritated.

“I’m on leave. Find another doctor.”

When I insisted, he finally agreed to come — dragging along Ivy, of course.

Helena had a cerebral hemorrhage and dangerously high intracranial pressure. She needed emergency decompression.

Lucian swore he would do the surgery himself.

I believed him.

Back then, I thought it was just a simple craniotomy — nothing could possibly go wrong.

The news that the surgery had failed was so absurd, I almost laughed.

Lucian still hadn’t realized that the one lying in the operating room… was his own sister.

So he hadn’t even performed the surgery himself?

A strange chill spread through me. Helena’s body had been lying in the hospital all day — surely someone should have informed the Lin family by now.

But Lucian still acted as though nothing had happened.

Just as I was trying to piece things together, I heard the click of the front door.

Lucian walked in, Ivy trailing behind him, dressed to perfection and smiling coyly.

“Hehe, Uncle,” she giggled, her tone sickeningly sweet, “you really went and handled your master’s sister’s body without permission. What if she finds out and gets angry?”

“What if she gets angry?” Lucian sneered.

“That woman chased after me for three years like a stray dog. If it weren’t for the fact that her family still had money and could be useful to me, do you think I would have married her?”

He wrapped an arm around Ivy’s tiny waist, voice laced with contempt.

“But I did take a huge risk for you today. How do you plan to thank me?”

And in that moment, everything became clear.

No wonder no one from the Lin family had been notified.

Lucian didn’t want me anywhere near the body — didn’t want me to push for an autopsy, didn’t want me to have proof of what really happened.

He had used his authority at the hospital to secretly take control of his own sister’s corpse.

As a doctor, he should have known this wasn’t just unethical — it was criminal.

“Hehe, I’m yours tonight. Do whatever you want,” Ivy whispered, her cheeks flushed as she leaned closer.

Lucian smiled faintly, scooped her up in his arms, and started toward the bedroom.

But he froze when he saw me standing there — leaning against the doorway, phone in hand, watching them with a half-smile.

“Seraphine? Why are you here?” he stammered.

“This is my house,” I replied evenly. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

I gestured casually toward the hallway.

“Don’t mind me. Go on. Continue what you were doing.”

His face darkened as he set Ivy down.

“Your sister is dead, and you’re not even at the wake. What kind of sister does that make you?”

I almost laughed in disbelief.

He had the gall to commit adultery in our home and then lecture me about morals.

“Since you’re here,” Lucian said coldly, “I’ll make this easy. Since you refuse to sign, and the hospital can’t reach your family, I’ll sign the death certificate on your behalf.”

He shoved a plastic-wrapped box into my hands.

“These are your sister’s ashes. Saves me the trouble of delivering them later.”

I had expected him to be callous. But the box was battered, and when he thrust it at me, ashes spilled onto the floor.

Something in me snapped.

“Lucian,” I said icily, “you treat your mistress like a treasure — but when it comes to your own sister, you can’t wait to destroy the evidence, can you?”

His expression darkened, his voice rising.

“Stop slandering me! What evidence? Your sister died in a car accident. I’m a doctor, not a god!”

I took a slow, steady breath, bent down, and carefully gathered the ashes from the floor.

When I opened the box and saw that less than half the ashes remained, my hands shook with fury.

“The dead deserve respect,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’re a doctor, yet you can’t even show the slightest dignity to the dead?”

Lucian didn’t even flinch. His tone was impatient, almost bored.

“I don’t know how many cremations go through that place every day. The ashes all get mixed together. What does it matter? Just keep enough for the burial — that’s enough.”

I laughed, low and bitter. “That’s what a human being should say?”

“Teacher, Master’s Wife, please don’t fight.”

Ivy’s soft sob cut through the room. She sniffled pitifully.

“This was my fault. I was the one who collected the ashes. If I’d known, I would’ve taken more. Then even if some spilled, there would still be enough left.”

“How could you possibly be at fault?”

Lucian immediately soothed her, his hand stroking her head with a gentleness I’d never received from him.

Then he turned to me, his eyes cold, his voice laced with disdain.

“You left your sister’s body in the hospital without even checking on her. And now you want to use her death to blackmail us? Ivy brought the ashes back for you out of kindness, and instead of gratitude, you blame her? Truly heartless.”

My vision blurred with rage.

A decompression craniectomy killed his own sister — and this man dared to expect me to thank him?

But fine. I wasn’t her sister-in-law anymore. If he, her own brother, wanted to worship the woman who killed her, that was his choice.

“Teacher, don’t say that.”

Ivy’s lips curved in a demure little pout as she covered his mouth playfully.

“She must have gone a little mad after losing her sister.”

Lucian’s eyes softened at her touch, a tenderness flashing there that made my chest ache.

“Master’s Wife,” Ivy said sweetly, handing me the ashes, “you should bury her soon. Otherwise, her remains will just scatter in the wind.”

I sneered and shoved the box back toward them.

“Let Lucian keep them.”

As I pushed it back, Ivy suddenly stumbled two steps, deliberately tearing the plastic bag.

Ashes spilled across the floor, rising into the air and choking me until I coughed.

“Master’s Wife, I’m sorry!” she cried, sitting down on the floor, tears brimming in her eyes. “If it will make you feel better, hit me. But your sister’s death really had nothing to do with me!”

“Seraphine, have you lost your mind?”

Lucian stormed forward, and before I could react, his palm cracked across my face.

“Ivy went out of her way to bring you your sister’s ashes, and this is how you treat her? You’re insane!”

He hauled her to her feet, his arm sliding protectively around her waist as he prepared to leave.

I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, my breathing ragged. Then I exhaled slowly, my voice calm — too calm.

“Lucian,” I said, pulling a folded document from my bag, “let’s get a divorce.”

He froze, turning to stare at me.

“You want a divorce?”

His expression shifted — surprise first, then anger, until his face was carved with ice.

“Seraphine,” he said coldly, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re only saying this because you’re grieving your sister.”