My wife was the top expert in cardiothoracic surgery and had saved countless patients on the brink of death.

But when performing heart surgery on our twins, she made a fatal mistake.

I held our children’s ashes and cried until I collapsed, while she hurriedly left with her luggage.

She said she had to rush to perform a high-profile surgery in another city.

“Leo, the twins were born with congenital heart defects. Even a god couldn’t have saved them—let alone me and I’m no god. My condolences. Once you feel a bit better, we can talk about having children again.”

But that very night, the intern anesthesiologist she was supervising—Henry Walker—posted on his social media.

It was a nine-photo grid featuring dazzling Disneyland fireworks and a shot of him gently holding hands with a woman.

“First time assisting in surgery. Messed up the anesthesia dosage and nearly caused a medical accident. Almost cost me my chance at full-time employment. Thank God for my fairy goddess who turned things around.”

The next post showed him embracing and kissing a girl.

“If this post gets more than ten likes, I’ll confess to my fairy goddess.”

In the photo, the woman’s face was only partially visible, but the scar on her jaw... was identical to the scar Irene got years ago when she took a knife for me.

My already shattered heart finally turned completely cold.

I moved my fingers and replied.

“No need for ten likes. As her husband, I give you my blessing to be together.”

The next second, a call came in. Irene’s usually aloof voice was now laced with anger.

“It was just a kid playing truth or dare and posting nonsense. Did you really have to leave such an embarrassing comment? He just got into the hospital—what you did could ruin his career. I’m giving you ten seconds. Delete that comment, or we’re getting a divorce.”

I hung up the call and added both her and the intern’s names to the hospital executive list for reassignment—to a remote branch in Africa. Reason: Major medical malpractice.

Since you're so eager to protect him, then you can go suffer together.

Why should the one who killed my children get to smile so happily?

——

Ten seconds later, Irene sent me a question mark.

When I didn’t respond, she followed up with.

[I’ll have the divorce papers couriered to you immediately. If you insist on making a scene, then let’s just get divorced.]

I finally replied with one word: [Okay.]

On her end, the “typing…” indicator kept flashing. But in the end, she sent nothing.

I sent her a screenshot of Henry’s nine-photo Disneyland post, along with the report of the medical accident.

[Irene, it was him who killed our children, wasn’t it?]

All I got in return was a red exclamation mark. She had blocked me.

When I checked back on the social media posts, all of Henry’s flashy updates were gone. Only a lonely apology remained:

“The patient's family treated us to a meal to thank us for saving their child. Everyone got drunk and played games. I lost at truth or dare and the family member told me to pick a girl present and post about it. Miss Wells only helped me so I wouldn’t feel embarrassed. I apologize for any misunderstanding or negative impact.”

The picture? A crying cartoon cat bowing.

Underneath, Irene had commented.

“Don’t be scared, Henry. I’ve got your back. Some people better not think they can bully you.”

And then came the string of replies:

“We all knew it was a joke. The family made a disgusting dare. Even if we didn’t like it, we had no choice but to play along.”

“‘Some people’? Is she talking about her husband? Poor Irene, married to a mad man. Losing the kid was just bad luck, yet he keeps making a scene at the hospital, insisting it was her and Henry’s fault.”

“Miss Wells standing up so fiercely to protect him—so charming!”

I let out a cold laugh.

Then I noted down each of their names, one by one and added them all to the reassignment list.

Back when I founded this private hospital, it was all to help Irene become the top cardiologist in the country.

I poured in the most investment, the most publicity.

Now, she truly was our hospital’s chief physician—everyone fawned over her. And her most favored protégé, Henry, had ridden that wave to success right alongside her.

Yet I, the hospital’s largest shareholder, had become the one they trample underfoot.

Maybe it was because they all thought I was hopelessly in love with Irene. That this hospital only became what it was today because of her. That I wouldn’t dare make her angry. That both I and the hospital couldn’t afford to lose her.

They forgot— it was my hospital that made her who she was. Without her, I could still raise countless top-tier specialists.

Henry had replied to every supportive comment with a smiling cat emoji and to Irene, he sent a kissing sticker.

The doorbell rang. It was a courier.

The delivery guy handed me a signed divorce agreement and a bag.

I asked, “What’s this?”

He stammered, “A guy asked me to give this to you. He said you’re old, got erectile dysfunction and keep picking fights 'cause you're bitter. He said he’s generous enough to not take it personally. He’s helping you please your wife, so you don’t have to thank him.”

Inside the bag were lubricant and a box of Viagra.

I calmly told the courier to throw away the things Henry had sent to provoke me. Then I closed the door.

I took out the divorce agreement and carefully signed my name.

My phone buzzed a few times—it was a message from the hospital’s HR director.

[Mr. Carter, maybe you should reconsider? It’s one thing to deal with others, but how can you send Miss Wells and Henry to Africa?]

[I understand you're grieving the loss of your children and upset with Miss Wells, but please don’t let personal grudges interfere with work. These dirty tactics won’t just ruin two brilliant doctors—they’ll cost countless patients their lives.]

I replied flatly. [You make a good point. I forgot to deal with you. You’re fired. A third-party firm will be taking over your role.]

Right after that, I called the external management company and gave direct orders.

“Take full control of HR and logistics at my hospital. Anyone who speaks up for Irene or Henry, send them all to Africa.”

“If they refuse to go, have them repay their training and development costs in full.”

I gently caressed the urns holding my children’s ashes, speaking each word with steady resolve.

All those doctors supporting Henry in the comment section were once underprivileged students whom I personally funded with real money.

It was I who gave them the opportunity to study abroad and become what they are today.

And yet now, one by one, they only knew how to flatter Irene and Henry. They’d completely forgotten who it was that nurtured them into the skilled doctors they became.

No wonder they all trailed after Irene without question. Every single one of them were blind, ungrateful wolves. And wolves like that made lousy doctors.

They had to suffer more hardships to learn what compassion in medicine really meant.

After hanging up, I noticed Irene had called me over a dozen times.

In the end—probably driven by fury— she even resent a friend request.

The message she attached. [Pick up the phone.]

Just then, a new call came in.

I answered.

The moment I answered, her furious voice exploded through the phone.

“Are you insane? I’m about to be evaluated for a senior title and Henry is about to be made permanent, but you actually reported us to be transferred to the African branch?”

“Leo, I know you’re grieving over the children, but that was fate!”

“Our kids were born with a condition—even a god couldn’t have saved them. It was written in their destiny that they wouldn’t live long. It wasn’t me and it damn sure wasn’t Henry who killed them!”

“I’ve told you this a thousand times, but you insist on targeting Henry over and over. I stopped you from checking the surveillance footage because I didn’t want you to lose your mind again! I never imagined you’d start slandering Henry with disgusting rumors—let alone abuse your power to send him to Africa!”

Her usually cold and composed voice was now trembling with anger, each breath ragged and heavy.

I simply asked her, “You rushed off in such a hurry—was it really for a flying-in surgery?”

“Was Henry’s social media post truly because some drunk patient’s family forced you all to play a game?”

“Or did you just want to get away fast... so you could go on a Disneyland date with your precious little protégé?”

On the other end, her breathing abruptly stopped.

There was a brief silence—two seconds at most— then her voice softened, carefully composed.

“What nonsense are you talking about? That’s not true. Are you… having one of your delusions again?”

And then, Henry’s voice came through, clear and casual. “Irene, the fireworks are about to start. It’s rare for you to relax like this—I don’t want you in a bad mood because of me. Once we’re back, I’ll personally apologize to Mr. Carter. Even if I have to kneel, it’s fine.”

The call was cut off immediately.

She must have hung up in such a hurry—afraid of missing the beautiful fireworks, no doubt.

I held my children’s urns in my arms, tears falling uncontrollably.

“Daddy will never let them get away with this,” I whispered.

Eventually, I cried myself into unconsciousness.

The next day, when I woke up, my eyes were so swollen I could barely open them.

I put on a pair of sunglasses and went downstairs— only to see a familiar figure moving busily outside.

Irene was carrying a bowl of porridge. She froze for a moment when she saw me, but quickly put on a casual smile.

“You’re up? I made you breakfast. Eat a little, okay?”

“I figured you’d overthink everything after yesterday. I didn’t even rest—I flew back overnight.”

I opened my mouth to tell her there was no need, but then I saw a tall figure rush out of the bathroom, wearing my pajamas.

He walked straight over and wrapped his arms around Irene, saying teasingly,

“Irene, you really give off that married-woman vibe. My dream marriage is waking up to see my wife making me breakfast.”

My gaze darkened.

Irene had always treated her skillful hands like precious treasures. Cooking? Out of the question.

Back when we were still together, I once asked her to simply hand me a plate. She immediately gave me a cold glare and snapped, “Are you insane? Why are you wasting my hands on something like that?”

But now that my heart had gone cold toward her, she’s suddenly changed.

Irene quickly stepped out of Henry’s embrace, her tone flustered.

“You’re a grown man. Stop acting like a child.”

Then she turned to me and tried to explain, “It was raining when we landed. We got drenched. I told Henry to go home and change, but he insisted on coming here first to apologize. That’s why I gave him your clothes to wear.”

Henry stuck out his tongue playfully and said to me, “Mr. Carter, I came to say sorry! Yesterday was really just a joke! If it’ll help ease your mind, I’ll go on a blind date this weekend and get married right away. I promise I won’t get in the way of your relationship anymore!”

“Henry! Don’t joke around like that!” Irene called out, her voice sharp.

Then, noticing the mocking smile tugging at my lips, she quickly added, “What I meant is—Leo has always been gentle and kind. I’m sure he’s already forgiven you. There’s no need for you to rush into a marriage.”

“Right, Leo? Let’s just put yesterday behind us and pretend it never happened. Okay?”

My children’s bones weren’t even cold, yet she had been wrapped in tender whispers beneath a sky of fireworks with her little puppy.

And now, she wanted me to just… drop it?

Of course. I could.

I gave her a slow, mocking smile. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

After all, they’d be heading to Africa soon enough.

Whatever their relationship really was, wherever they went last night, whatever they did, I didn’t care in the slightest.

Hearing my response, Irene seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“It’s good you’re being reasonable. I’ve rescheduled all my surgeries—I’ll stay with you for the next few days. Once your mood is better, once the seventh day after the kids’ passing has passed, I’ll go back to work.”

I nodded calmly. “Alright.”