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!”