Chapter 1

1: 1

Burton James had a severe compulsion for order.

As a surgeon, he'd set an iron rule.

Every operation ran strictly by the schedule, and no one could make him bend it.

The day my mother was dying, I begged him to come to the hospital just half an hour early.

He refused, his voice flat and cold.

"The surgery's set for three. One minute early wrecks the whole procedure."

Yet the moment he turned around, Zara Simmons said her chest felt off, and he threw out his precious schedule to go sit with her.

This was the third time.

The first time, my mother had a post-op infection. He said it wasn't on the schedule, then went to sit with Zara through her IV drip.

The second time, my mother went into sudden heart failure. He said it wasn't time yet, then went to celebrate Zara's birthday.

This time, my mother lay in the emergency room with a blood pressure too low to read.

I called him, crying.

It took nine calls before he finally picked up.

"The surgery time hasn't come yet. Call all you want, it won't change anything."

"Every patient follows the order. I'm not making an exception just because she's my mother-in-law."

The line went dead.

Half an hour later, my mother's heart monitor flattened into a single line.

The doctors said if the lead surgeon had arrived twenty minutes sooner, she might have had a chance.

I signed the death confirmation alone and drew the white sheet up over her.

That was when my phone lit up.

A message from Burton:

"Get Mom ready. I'll operate at three, on time."

I looked at the screen and calmly slid the wedding ring off my finger.

Burton, the person waiting for you to save her life will never make it to three now.

...

I dropped that wedding ring into the medical waste bin.

The staff wheeled my mother's body into the cold storage.

The digital clock on the wall clicked to 3:20 p.m., and the corridor went dead silent.

A dull, dragging pain came in waves through my lower belly, where an eight-week life was growing.

I'd meant to wait until my mother came safely through surgery, then tell Burton I was pregnant.

Now I didn't want him to know at all.

My phone rang. Burton.

The second I answered, he asked, anger held down under his voice.

"Iris Cooley, where did you take Mom?"

"The surgery slot's here and you moved her without permission. Do you have any idea how much this throws off the whole department's schedule?"

I stared at the sealed doors of the cold storage, and even explaining suddenly felt pointless.

"You don't need to operate anymore."

Then I hung up.

The dragging pain in my belly nearly took my legs out from under me.

Bracing myself against the wall, I made my way step by step to the billing window on the first floor.

I finished the paperwork for holding my mother's body, and the moment I turned around, I walked straight into Burton in his white coat.

Zara leaned weakly against his side, draped in his jacket.

Burton saw me and frowned.

"Why did you hang up on me?"

"I came on schedule. Stop throwing a fit at me over Mom's surgery."

Zara tugged at his sleeve.

"Burton, don't blame Iris."

"She's just so worried about her mother, she thought this would make you take it seriously."

"After all, it was only my chest bothering me, and you came to me first. Of course that stung her."

Burton's brow drew tight.

"Zara's readings were off, so of course I came to her first. Once your mother was in the emergency room, the on-call doctor would handle it. There's no need to drag me into every single thing."

"Don't think that being my wife means everyone has to clear the way for you."

Right then, Burton's mother walked over carrying a bag of imported fruit.

"Iris, how can you be so unreasonable?"

"Burton works himself to the bone in surgery every day, and you badger him with your mother's illness on top of it!"

"Zara's a frail girl. What's wrong with Burton looking after her a little? Do you really have to hide your mother away just to make a scene?"

I looked at the three of them and felt only how absurd it was.

My mother wasn't even cold, and they were sure I was throwing a jealous tantrum.

I looked at Burton and said it word by word.

"I'll say it one more time. You don't need to operate."

"Because my mother is dead. Half an hour ago. They couldn't save her."

Burton's brow twitched, then went cold again.

"Iris Cooley, is this fun for you, using something like that to force me to back down?"

"I read her chart. Half an hour later wouldn't have changed a thing. You hid her away and made up a lie like this. It only makes me more disgusted."

He pulled his gaze away, indifferent.

"Since you insist on giving up the slot, I'm taking back the VIP recovery room and the special-medication allocation and giving them to someone who actually needs them."

"You don't follow the process, you pay the price."

Burton's mother let out a cold laugh at once.

"That's how it should be. An old woman with one foot in the grave, taking up a room that nice is a waste of resources."

Burton frowned and cut her off. "Mom, that's enough."

But he never took back the decision he'd just made.

I pressed save on the recording and kept every word they'd just said.

"Suit yourself."

I turned and walked out of the hospital.