Chapter 3

The moment I stepped off the elevator, I saw several photos scattered across the floor by my apartment door.

I bent down to pick them up, and a chill shot from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head.

These were the vile, unspeakable pictures that had been forced on me back in that lawless border region.

There was writing on the back of one photo.

If you don't want these photos showing up on your hospital's bulletin board, then apologize to me like a good girl.

Delia.

I clenched my fists tightly, my body trembling faintly, unable to stop it, all kinds of emotions surging up inside me.

But only seconds later, they were replaced by cold hatred.

I took a deep breath and made a call.

"Ryan, the things we prepared earlier—you can release them now."

"Okay."

After hanging up, I looked down at the photos in my hand and tore them to shreds.

The person I was now would not be defeated so easily.

Early the next morning.

As soon as I arrived at the hospital, I heard the doctors and nurses talking.

"Mr. Rowe really is loaded. He booked an entire floor just for his wife."

"So jealous. Why can't I ever meet a good man like that?"

In love, were they?

He'd treated me that way once too. When we first got married, we were deeply in love.

Just because I burned my hand by accident while cooking at home, he rushed me to the hospital in a panic.

The doctor even teased us, laughing.

"Any later and the wound would've healed on its own."

I laughed until I nearly doubled over—after all, I was a doctor myself.

But he said, "A doctor can't heal herself. I'm this nervous because I love you."

"I don't want a single scar left on you."

Back then, I thought that was probably what happiness was.

Until he started staying out all night. Delia hadn't just stolen my own parents—she'd stolen my husband too.

I'd barely sat down in the exam room when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

I put on my mask and sanitized my hands.

Then Derek appeared, his face dark.

"Delia trusts your skills, so she came to you specifically for a checkup, and you prescribed her abortion medication?"

"Dorothy, you're as vicious as ever!"

I pointed to the camera, and to the intern standing beside me.

"Mr. Rowe, you should back up your words with evidence. Every prescription I've written since I began practicing medicine can stand up to scrutiny."

Derek slammed a prescription slip down on the desk.

"This is the evidence! After taking the medicine you prescribed, Delia had unbearable abdominal pain and started bleeding."

I picked up the slip, glanced at it, and coldly curled my lip.

"These are vitamins and calcium tablets, Mr. Rowe. If these could cause a miscarriage, then no pregnant woman would ever need to take them."

His face froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to be so composed.

"Impossible. Did you switch out the medicine?"

I said mockingly, "Did I run down to the pharmacy warehouse just to swap it? Or did I sneak into your house to swap it?"

I pulled up Delia's medical record.

"Mr. Rowe, take a look for yourself. Where exactly did I go wrong?"

His eyes wavered. Even the slightest bit of thought would tell him that, as a doctor, I would never do such a thing.

"Dorothy, I'm sorry. I was too impulsive."

I gave a professional smile. "It's fine. Mrs. Rowe's safety is what matters most."