Chapter 3

My mother had been thrown out of the hospital.

When I arrived, she was lying in the hospital corridor.

The caregiver told me that someone claiming to be my husband had come to arrange a transfer.

But once the paperwork was done, he left my mother there and walked away.

She had called me several times, but none of the calls had gone through.

She tried to find a doctor and get my mother readmitted, but the hospital required a family member to handle it in person.

There was no question. Ethan had done this.

By then, my mother's face had turned purple as she lay in the corridor.

I had no time to confront Ethan. I rushed to find a doctor and get her admitted.

But when I reached the office, I was stunned. The doctor told me my mother's condition was too serious for them to take her.

I exploded.

"What did you just say? Last night you told me my mother's condition had improved and she could have surgery. Now you're telling me you can't admit her?"

The doctor backed away, frightened.

"Ms. Hart, please calm down. A patient's condition can change. She was stable last night. Today, it may have worsened."

I asked him:

"If she's so critical, why did you allow someone else to discharge her?"

The doctor spread his hands.

"Your husband insisted on the discharge. We respected the family's wishes."

After a few exchanges, even a fool could tell someone had given orders behind the scenes. Otherwise, no doctor would have dared do this.

I left the office and called Ethan, asking him why he had done it.

"To teach you a lesson, of course."

Ethan did not bother to hide it.

"Vivian, I think Monica was right. I've been too good to you, and that's why you think you can walk all over me. It's time I took back my pride."

I could not take it anymore.

"Your pride means killing my mother? Ethan, don't forget who picked you up when you were begging on the street."

I could not believe Ethan would go after my mother.

When he was thirteen, his relatives threw him out. In the dead of winter, he almost froze to death on the street.

My mother was the one who brought him home and fed him.

At the mention of the past, Ethan wavered.

He spoke.

"Fine, then..."

"Ethan, are you really going to let this go?"

At the crucial moment, Monica's voice cut in.

"Don't forget why we're doing this."

Ethan stayed silent for a few seconds, then spoke coldly again.

"Vivian, if you want your mother admitted, come sign the divorce agreement."

"Never."

I cursed him.

"Ethan, don't forget that five years ago, after you made my mother so angry she was hospitalized, you promised her there would only ever be widowhood between us, never divorce."

"If I divorce you now, even if my mother wakes up, she may die from the shock."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Ethan's words hit me like ice water.

"Bottom line, if you refuse to divorce me, your mother can die waiting for a hospital bed."

He hung up. When I called again, his phone was off.

I had no time to keep arguing with Ethan.

I started arranging a transfer for my mother.

Only after several hospitals in the city refused to admit her, and my assistant sent me Monica's information, did I understand what Ethan meant by letting her die waiting.

Monica's father was chairman of the largest pharmaceutical company in the country, with ties to every hospital in the city.

There was no doubt. Monica had spoken to all of them.

Years as a lawyer had taught me that people like us did not stand a chance against that kind of money and influence.

Even when people like them broke the law, even when evidence was found, someone would always be willing to take the fall.

Just as despair closed in, the caregiver called out again.

"Ms. Hart, hurry! Your mother isn't breathing."