Chapter 1

When I suffer a heart attack, I discover that my wife, Amelia Price, has given my private ICU room to her childhood friend, Norman Wallace, because an old injury of his has flared up again.

Instead of a world-class medical team, I'm left on a hospital bed in the hallway, without even a curtain to shield me from the cold.

Amelia is busy getting Norman a glass of water. When she's told about the mistake, she doesn't even bother turning around to look at me.

"They booked it under the wrong name. He's already settled in, so just make do out here for one night," she says.

I've been hearing that same excuse for five years.

When I'm supposed to have my pre-surgery consultation with the specialists, Amelia books me into the wrong hospital. Instead, she spends the entire day at a private clinic with Norman while he undergoes physical therapy.

When my chest pain is at its worst, she orders the wrong takeout, swapping the bland meal I want for Norman's favorite extra-spicy buffalo wings.

Amelia even orders my expensive post-op support cushion in the wrong size, and it ends up as Norman's dog's new bed.

To make sure she won't get it wrong again, I pay the ten-thousand-dollar deposit for my private hospital suite six months in advance. Then, I tape the confirmation paperwork to the refrigerator where she can't miss it.

I even set three daily reminder alerts on her phone in the days leading up to my surgery. But when Amelia checks me into the hospital, she still gets it wrong.

Seeing how pale I've gone, she only frowns. "Fine. This one's on me. It's just a routine surgery. Does it really matter where you have it?"

She dismisses it as casually as she always does. But I'm done risking my life.

I yank the IV from the back of my hand, remove my bloodstained wedding ring, and throw it into the trash.

"You're right. It's just a surgery. But whether I live or die from this point on has nothing to do with you anymore."

Chapter 1

Wesley's POV

Five years earlier, Amelia Price had been the one to ask me to marry her, promising I'd always come first.

But after we got married, whenever her childhood sweetheart, Norman Wallace, was involved, she never failed to let me down.

"Come on, Wesley. Let's not make such a big deal out of this. I'll be with you through the surgery."

Amelia went on, "Don't worry. They do surgeries like this every day. It'll be the same no matter where it's done. Norman's been in poor health ever since he was a kid. Growing up in the orphanage left him with chronic health problems, and when they flare up, they can be life-threatening.

"Just be a little more understanding. He's been through enough already. Once he's done with his IV and is feeling better, I'll have him give you the room, okay?"

With practiced ease, Amelia reduced a life-or-death situation to nothing more than me throwing a tantrum.

She had built her business with my family's connections and financial support. Yet, whenever it came to Norman, she always brushed it off as an innocent mistake, making no effort to hide where her loyalties really lay.

Amelia kept telling herself she was only making up for the hardships Norman had endured growing up. She never realized that what she dismissed as familial affection had crossed the line long ago.

Another crushing wave of pain ripped through my chest. But I gritted my teeth and endured it.

One look at the impatience written across Amelia's face left me feeling utterly tired. The exhaustion of fighting for this marriage for five long years finally caught up with me.

I wasn't going to gamble with my life anymore.

"You're right. But after I'm discharged, we're getting divorced."

Amelia froze for a moment. She didn't seem to hear the finality in my voice and assumed it was just another one of my outbursts.

She waved me off impatiently, then said, "That's enough. I'm going to check on Norman. Just stay here for a bit. If anything comes up, call me."

Having said that, she turned and went into the private hospital suite, the heavy door slamming shut behind her.

The hallway was bitterly cold, and my flimsy hospital gown offered little protection. I lay on the narrow cot, drenched in cold sweat as the pain dragged me toward unconsciousness.

The hallway buzzed with people coming and going. Some looked at me with sympathy, while others cast curious glances at me.

Weakness swallowed me whole, and I could feel my heartbeat growing increasingly erratic.

Fighting the pain in my chest, I reached beneath my pillow for my phone. I needed to call my parents.

But as soon as the screen lit up, a notification from my social media feed popped up.

Chapter 2

Wesley's POV

Norman had just posted a new update. In the photo, he lay comfortably in the hospital bed that should have been mine. He wore loungewear and was tucked beneath a down comforter.

Curled up in his arms was a puppy he'd just brought home. Moreover, the puppy was wrapped in an imported medical-grade thermal blanket.

I stared at the screen, unable to look away. Even my breathing hitched.

It was the imported medical-grade thermal blanket I'd spent three months trying to get my hands on. I'd bought it for my recovery after surgery. The blanket alone had cost me over two thousand dollars.

The caption read, "Amelia said the puppy gets cold easily, so she stayed up all night getting this blanket ready. It's unbelievably soft. She really gets me."

In an instant, everything I'd brushed off as coincidence came rushing back.

The day before, while packing for the hospital, I'd realized that the imported thermal blanket was missing.

I had searched everywhere in a panic.

Amelia, however, avoided my gaze and casually said the housekeeper had probably put it away in the wrong place. Then, she tossed a few cheap fleece blankets from a department store into my bag instead.

"You're a grown man. Stop making such a big deal out of it," she'd said. "These regular blankets are perfectly fine. You don't need anything fancy."

As it turned out, she hadn't misplaced it. She'd taken something I'd bought for my own recovery and given it to her precious Norman instead, just to pamper him.

To Amelia, my life mattered less than Norman's dog.

Rage and despair crashed over me until the pain in my chest became unbearable.

Suddenly, the taste of blood flooded my mouth. I coughed violently, and blood splattered across my hospital gown.

A nurse making rounds gasped. Her clipboard clattered to the floor, then she yelled, "The patient's in acute heart failure! Move! Get him to the resuscitation room!"

In an instant, the hallway descended into chaos.

The doctor came running. One glance at the monitors was enough to drain the color from his face.

"Acute heart failure with V-fib! His heart rate's dropping too fast! We need to get him to the OR for emergency bypass. Where's his family? Get them in here to sign the consent forms!"

The nurse was sweating bullets. "She was just here. She said she was going to one of the private suites."

"Then go find her!" the doctor barked. "Every minute we lose could cost him his life!"

Several nurses sprinted to the private suite and pounded on the door. They shoved it open, only to find an empty room. Norman was gone, and so was Amelia.

Chapter 3

Wesley's POV

The blood loss had made me dizzy, and my vision was getting blurry.

I only found out later that ten minutes before my heart gave out, Norman had turned to Amelia, pale-faced, and said, "Amelia, the smell of disinfectant out there is overwhelming. I feel like I can barely breathe."

She immediately helped him up, worry crossing her features. Without even acknowledging me, she took him downstairs to the garden to get some air.

While I was fighting for my life, all Amelia cared about was Norman—her childhood sweetheart who couldn't even handle the smell of disinfectant.

…

Third-Person POV

Outside the operating room, the red emergency light glared above the doors. The charge nurse paced anxiously down the hallway, holding the consent forms and critical condition paperwork.

Hospital policy was strict. For a procedure this risky, the doctors needed an immediate family member's signature before they could operate.

If something went wrong without proper authorization, the hospital would be left liable.

"Keep calling! Don't stop until someone answers!" the surgeon in charge shouted from inside.

The nurse repeatedly dialed the number Amelia had left on Wesley's admission forms. But all she heard was the automated message. "Sorry. The person you are trying to reach is unavailable."

…

Meanwhile, in the garden below, Norman sat on a bench. Amelia slipped off her designer coat and gently draped it around his shoulders, shielding him from the chilly November breeze.

"Feeling any better?" she asked. "Still feeling sick? Do you want me to get you something warm to eat?"

Her tone was nothing like the cold, impatient one she'd used on Wesley moments earlier.

Norman looked down and forced a bitter smile before nodding. "Much better, Amelia. I'm sorry. I hate that my health keeps becoming such a burden.

"Wesley is upstairs waiting for surgery, and here I am taking up your time again. If he knew, he'd probably blame me for it…"

Amelia reached over and gently ruffled his hair. Her expression softened with concern as she said, "Don't overthink it. They won't start the surgery that quickly.

"He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, so he's never been good at handling even the smallest inconvenience.

"Your old injury is what worries me. What if the pain gets so bad that you pass out again, like you did when you were little?"

No sooner had Amelia finished speaking than the phone in the coat pocket began vibrating nonstop.

Norman glanced down and immediately saw the caller ID flashing on the screen—"First General Cardiac Unit".

He knew Amelia better than anyone. He was certain that as long as the hospital couldn't reach her, Wesley would just have to endure the pain a little longer.

He couldn't fathom why Wesley had been handed everything on a silver platter. He had wealth, power, and the legal right to call Amelia his wife.

Meanwhile, Norman had grown up in an orphanage, living off whatever scraps were left behind. He was also forced to remain hidden as nothing more than Amelia's "younger brother".

And yet, all he had done was pretend his old injury had returned, and Amelia had immediately arranged a private hospital suite worth a fortune for him.

To Norman, it proved one thing. Wesley meant nothing to Amelia.

Norman's face gave nothing away as he slipped his hand into the pocket of Amelia's coat. Then, he held down the power button and turned off her phone.

The moment the screen went dark, he acted as though nothing had happened and turned to Amelia.

"Amy, it's windy out here. Can we stay a little longer? Ever since you got married, we haven't had the chance to spend time together like this."

Completely absorbed in caring for the younger man she felt responsible for, Amelia failed to notice anything unusual. She had no idea that while she sat beside him, her husband was fighting for his life upstairs because she could not be reached.

…

Wesley's POV

Inside the operating room, my consciousness had already begun slipping away.

Meanwhile, the surgeon's expression grew grimmer by the second.

I could feel the blood draining from my body, little by little. An unbearable cold spread through me, as if my entire body had been plunged into freezing water.

The surgeon clenched his jaw and made his decision.

"We can't wait any longer. His blood pressure is down to 50! Activate emergency protocol. If anything happens, I'll take responsibility. Prep anesthesia!" he barked.

Just as they were about to operate without waiting for consent, the doors burst open.

"I'll sign it! Let me sign! I'm his father."