"Calculate exactly how much I spent training each of them. If they don’t want to go to Africa, then they can pay me back three times the amount, just like the contract says."

I was already being merciful.

Training a doctor wasn’t easy. For them to become good doctors wasn’t easy either. I didn’t want to ruin them — I just wanted what I was owed.

When the official reassignment list came out — and her and Henry's names were still on it — Irene finally couldn’t sit still.

When the call connected, her voice was already shaking with fury.

“How long are you planning to drag this out? Are you really going to push it until the entire hospital is in chaos before you’re satisfied? Do you have any idea how many surgeries are scheduled today? How are the doctors on that list supposed to work in peace?”

“This is a hospital — a place where lives are saved — not somewhere for you to throw tantrums and vent your anger.”

“Take down the announcement immediately. Come to the hospital immediately and apologize to everyone! Compensate everyone on the list with an extra year’s worth of performance bonuses!”

I replied calmly, “They signed the sponsorship contracts back then — agreed to obey any aid reassignment order from the hospital. Now that the orders are issued and they can’t do their jobs properly, it just proves they’re unfit to be doctors.”

On the other end of the line, her breathing grew heavy. Then came a string of curses.

“You’re insane! Fine — since you won’t listen to reason, don’t blame me for what comes next.”

“Leo, remember — you were the one who tore this all apart first.”

She hung up.

But I didn’t feel even the slightest bit of satisfaction.

Only bitterness. And sorrow.

I had tried so hard to convince myself — that she did love me, that she did love our children, that she was just cold by nature.

But the truth was, she could lose control. She could get furious.

The truth was, she never loved any of us at all.

I wasted ten years of my life with someone who never loved me. And I could only watch helplessly… as she caused the death of our two children.

***

I didn’t respond to any of the insults.

And perhaps to provoke me further, Irene began her retaliation—openly and shamelessly.

She took Henry with her to every academic conference, every gala, every public appearance.

They wore matching outfits like a couple, holding hands while being interviewed.

At the launch event for a research project I had personally funded—one that only existed because of me—she stood on stage and declared, loud and clear.

“Henry played a critical role in this project. Without him, it would never have succeeded.”

They smiled at each other and the press captured it perfectly.

The photo made headlines the next day:

"Cardiology Experts Irene Wells and Her Husband Appear at Major Medical Launch"

“A Love as Brilliant as Their Work—True Partners in Science and in Life.”

She reposted that headline, adding only five words: “New drug launch. Very happy.”

But she said nothing—not one word—about the reporter's error calling Henry her husband.

The comment section was filled with praise.

People called them a “perfect match,” congratulated them on their work, on their love.

A few dared to question it:

“Dr. Wells, isn’t this a bit inappropriate?”

But those comments vanished almost immediately.

I read through everything calmly, took screenshots and sent them to my lawyer.

Maybe it was because I wasn’t reacting at all. No anger. No accusations. Just silence. So they started to feel bored.

And that’s when someone sent me a secretly recorded video.

In the dressing room, Henry had his lower body completely exposed. Irene, her face flushed, was holding a cotton swab, tending to a spot near the top of his thigh.

Henry let out a soft moan.

“Dr. Wells, it hurts… maybe you should just use your fingers?”

Irene swallowed hard and tossed the cotton swab aside.

The video cut off at that moment.

The person who sent it to me added a cheeky emoji.

[Don’t misunderstand, Mr. Carter. They’re just changing a dressing.]

I replied calmly, [I won’t.]

Whatever they were doing, it didn’t matter. They would be going to Africa together soon enough.

On the seventh day after my children passed, I decorated the house entirely in a Disney princess theme.

That had been their biggest dream once: To go to Disneyland as a family of four.

If they could spend their birthday there, it would’ve been perfect.

So this year, I made sure they could. Even if it was just in spirit.

But every time I brought it up, Irene would snap at me, “I already have to do dozens of surgeries a day — I’m exhausted. How could I have time to waste going on trips with you all?”

She always said she was too busy to take the children to Disneyland.

But just because Henry said he wanted to go, she skipped work and spent an entire day at Disneyland with him.

My children came into this world with such difficulty. They never got to visit Disneyland. So at the very least, they deserved one birthday party they would’ve loved.

Eyes red with grief, I sat before their urns and sang Happy Birthday over and over again.

Then the phone rang.

It was a call from the management company. The voice on the other end was urgent:

“Something’s happened. You need to get online—now. Dr. Wells has teamed up with the hospital’s doctors. They’re planning a public strike to protest against you.”

I opened my phone. At the top was a video posted from Irene’s personal account.

She wore a black dress, with Henry standing beside her.

Her expression was solemn as she spoke, “Even though Leo is my husband, I can’t just stand by and watch him continue down this path, harming innocent people.”

“Ever since the surgery failed and we lost our children, he’s been obsessively accusing me of murdering them. He even dragged in the anesthesiologist—my student Henry—slandering him with fabricated rumors.”

“When other doctors tried to speak up for us, he retaliated by punishing them—forcing them to relocate to hospitals in Africa. If they refused, he demanded an outrageous ‘repayment’ for their training costs.”

"Because this matter concerns the future of all us doctors, I am once again joining forces with the doctors who have been victimized in this incident to announce a strike. All surgeries will be suspended! Until Leo comes forward to apologize and compensate everyone for the emotional damage we've suffered. Especially to my student Henry — he must personally kneel and apologize!"

Henry, eyes red and choking back tears, said, "Mr. Carter, I hope you’ll stop slandering me. Please don’t send me to Africa. I’m the only son my parents have."

The comment section was full of patients' families crying and begging me to apologize.

“My father’s condition can’t wait any longer. If the surgery is delayed again, he’ll die.”

“Please, Mr. Carter, just apologize. I’ll kneel if I have to—my daughter’s illness can only be treated by Dr. Wells.”

I gripped my phone tightly and my once-calm heart was finally torn apart.

Irene called, her tone full of threat. “Leo, you don’t want your reputation ruined and the hospital destroyed, do you?”

I roared with heartbreak and fury. “Bitch! Irene, you fucking bitch! You think I didn’t give them a choice? The contract clearly states—if the hospital requires support, they must fulfill a three-year service obligation at a branch hospital! Otherwise, they pay the penalty! They agreed to this willingly in the first place!

“So why—just because they don’t want to honor the contract—they get to strike with you? You already killed my children, isn’t that enough? Now you want to cause even more deaths? How are you even qualified to be a doctor? How are you qualified to be human?”

It was the first time I had ever screamed at her like this. Irene was stunned for a few seconds.

But then she snapped impatiently, “You’re insane! I already told you, the kids died because of bad luck! No one killed them! You’re just having another paranoid episode!”

"If you don’t want to watch those patients die, then get down on your knees, apologize and pay compensation! As long as you admit it was just your paranoia, that you misunderstood me and Henry—that everything about us was a lie you made up—and withdraw the announcement about the Africa deployment, we’ll start doing surgeries again.”

“And one more thing—you need to say you’re mentally ill, that you’re going to a psychiatric facility for treatment and transfer the hospital’s directorship to me…”

I growled viciously, “Keep dreaming! Irene, go to hell and enjoy your sick fantasy there!”

"Everything I did was by the book. Why should I apologize? You went to Disneyland with Henry—was that my idea? You kissed him, touched his thigh—did I force you to do that?"

"He used the wrong dosage of anesthesia and killed my daughters and you covered for him, deleted the surgery room footage. You two filthy dogs—go to hell and atone for your sins to my children!"

Irene gasped. "You’re insane… There’s no way to reason with you."

"Go to hell!" I roared and smashed the phone to the ground, stomping on it over and over.

A loud pounding came from the door.

The next second, a group of people broke it down.

"You son of a bitch! You're the scum who ruined the doctors and got innocent patients caught up in this! You worthless bastard—go die!"

They ripped at my clothes, slapped me across the face, kicked me in the gut.

I clutched the urn in my arms with all my strength. But someone tore it away from me.

"No!" I screamed, lunging forward to grab it back.

But I could only watch helplessly as the urn was smashed to the ground and my children's ashes scattered across the floor.

"You filthy mutt! So you care that much about your two unlucky kids? Fine, I'll scatter their ashes—let's see how it feels when someone destroys what you love! Let's see how you taste pain!"

My eyes burned red as I threw myself forward, but they grabbed me, yanked me back, dragging me away.

Just then, Irene walked in, holding Henry’s hand.

Seeing the chaos in the room, her first reaction… was to shield Henry.

She looked at me—covered in blood—with a complicated expression, her tone edged with urgency.

“Leo, stop being so stubborn! Just apologize and all of this will be over! They're doctors, they're patients’ families—just do what I say and everything will calm down!”

I spat out a mouthful of blood and roared, “Keep dreaming! I’ll never let you get away with this! I’ll make you regret it!”

Suddenly, the wail of police sirens pierced the air. A squad of officers stormed into the room.

“Unlawful entry, intentional assault—everyone, follow us to the station!”

The crowd cried out for help, “Dr. Wells, save us! Please!”

Irene immediately stepped forward, trying to shield them. “It’s a misunderstanding! A misunderstanding! I’m the homeowner and he’s my husband… This is just a family dispute!”

I staggered to my feet, leaning against the wall, shouting hoarsely to correct her. “She’s not my wife! We’re divorced!”

“I’m formally pressing charges! She maliciously instructed others to break into my home and commit assault! I will make every one of them pay the price!”