Chapter2

When he walked through the door, the scent of Chloe's perfume still lingered on him.

I sat on the couch without moving. I had waited from one in the morning until now.

Arthur stood in the entryway, looking at me, then at the scattered gift boxes I had kicked across the floor. He stayed silent for a long time.

"Go ahead," I said. "Drop the act."

His shoulders slumped, and a bizarre sense of relief laced his tone. "Aria, times change. Feelings do, too."

I laughed hollowly. Five years ago, someone asked him if he would ever get sick of being with me. He had kissed my forehead and replied, "Aria is my antidote. I couldn't survive without her."

Now, he justified his infidelity with righteous entitlement and demanded my understanding. He didn't even bother to look at me.

"And?"

"The first time was the day you left for your exchange program." He avoided my gaze. "Chloe called, saying a patient was causing a scene at the clinic. I rushed over, and I didn't come home that night."

I remembered that day. I had stood at the operating table for eight hours. Right after scrubbing out, acute appendicitis hit me so hard I couldn't stand straight. I called him seventeen times, but his phone was totally unreachable. In the end, I signed my own surgical consent form.

The pain was so agonizing I thought I was dying, yet all I could think was how much I wished he were there.

The next day, he claimed he had been too exhausted and slept through it.

"So when you were 'too exhausted and slept through it' that day, this was the exhaustion you meant?"

He didn't answer.

He pulled open the drawer, took out our matching couple's rings, and tossed them into the ashtray with a soft clink.

"I'm going to marry Chloe. Consider this apartment my compensation to you. We can still be friends."

"I just hope you don't hold a grudge against her. This is all my fault."

I found it utterly laughable. Right before I went abroad, he had insisted on buying a flashy pink diamond engagement ring, claiming he was afraid I'd be seduced away by other doctors. In the end, he was the one who threw it away.

"The hospital rewarded me with this apartment for completing my hundredth surgery as lead surgeon with a flawless record," I said. "You're using my own property to compensate me?"

"That's fucking disgusting. Five years of my youth, and this is what I get."

I picked up my unfinished drink and hurled it right in his face.

The liquid dripped from his jawline. He didn't dodge; he just stared at me, a ruthless darkness surging in his eyes that I had rarely seen before.

"You can hit me or throw drinks at me, I don't care," he enunciated every single word. "But if you dare make a scene at the hospital, or lash out at Chloe, I'll make sure you lose your team, your research project, everything."

"I know you can't bear to lose that project, right?"

I clenched my fists tight. He was tossing around his authority as the hospital director to crush me. My surgeries, my research, my team—they were my life. He knew exactly where to strike to make it hurt. He delivered the threat so lightly, as if everything I had built meant absolutely nothing to him.

Only after he left did I finally drop to the floor and cry.

Early the next morning, having stayed awake all night, my eyes were swollen shut. I hired people to pack up all ninety-nine gift boxes and ship them directly to Chloe's rehab clinic.

The receptionist recognized me. She smiled and escorted me upstairs, thanking me the whole way for the VIP patients I had referred to them. I couldn't bring myself to smile.

Chloe came out to greet me. The color drained from her face the moment she saw the boxes, but she quickly squeezed out a smile. "Aria, what brings you here?"

"I'm returning these." I stared at her. "Are you hiding something shameful in your office?"

She didn't dare meet my eyes. She blocked the middle of the hallway. "These were just my way of showing appreciation. You really don't need to return them."

"Appreciation?" I glared at her. "You run the clinic I funded, you treat the patients I referred, you sleep with my fiancé, and now you're trying to use my things to compensate me?"

Her lips trembled, and her eyes grew red. "Aria, please don't be like this..."

"Move."

I shoved past her and marched toward the door at the end of the hall that bore the "Director's Office" plaque. The name engraved on it was Arthur's.

Chloe chased after me, panic lacing her voice. "That's his office! He's not here, please don't go in there—"

I shoved the door open.

Hung on the wall was a wedding portrait of the two of them, their foreheads pressed together, smiling exactly like a married couple. Matching couple's mugs sat on the desk. A women's lab coat hung right next to his on the coat rack. A drawer was left slightly ajar; right on top sat a prenatal report. It was dated last month. The patient's name was Chloe.

With every detail I took in, the blood drained further from my fingers.

"I see." I turned to look at her. "No wonder he left empty-handed last night. He made this place his home a long time ago."

Her face went dead pale.

"Chloe, when your abusive, cheating ex-husband tried to sell you out, I was the one who brought people in the middle of the night to rescue you. I paid for your lawsuits. You said you wanted to be your own boss, so I put up the money for your lease. I funnelled every top-tier VIP patient from my hospital to you, staking my entire reputation on your success."

"People laughed at me for giving away my resources for free, but I never cared. You tagged along behind me since we were kids, calling my name, and all I ever wanted was to protect you. I poured my heart and soul out for you for twenty years, and for what?"

I snatched the prenatal report from the drawer and slammed it against her chest.

"Do you not feel even an ounce of shame?"

Her lip quivered as the tears finally spilled over.

The next second, with a heavy thud, she dropped to her knees in front of me.