Chapter 3
809 Words
Hadley's POV:
Right outside my mom's hospital room, the doctor who had just examined her sighed heavily to his colleague.
"The best treatment option for this lady would have been going abroad, but Dr. Tucker insisted on sticking to palliative care. And he strictly forbade us from saying anything to the family..."
The second those words reached my ears, I snapped. I ran to the nearest bathroom and retched so hard my ribs ached.
What swirled down the drain along with my vomit wasn't just bitter tears. It was the last rotten scrap of what was left between Tucker and me.
I had just finished washing my face and was heading out when I slammed straight into someone at the corridor corner.
When Tucker's eyes landed on me, a flash of surprise and delight crossed his face, only to be swallowed whole by cold annoyance a heartbeat later.
"You have to follow me everywhere I go, don't you? If you want to remarry me that badly, just behave and stop threatening divorce every time!"
I lifted my head to meet his gaze. Nothing but dead, empty silence lived in my eyes.
My hollow stare seemed to prick him. His chest rose and fell a little faster than normal. He reached up and ruffled my hair, his tone softening slightly.
"After the award ceremony, I've got a surprise for you."
I swatted his hand away as if it burned. Only one thought screamed through my foggy, grieving mind: Get Mom's funeral arrangements done as fast as possible.
But when I went to process her death certificate, I passed the conference hall, and every eye in the room snapped at me like I was a spectacle.
"That's Mrs. Caldwell? Why does she look like such a mess?"
"I heard she keeps tabs on Dr. Tucker like crazy. No wonder he'd rather stay in the on-call room than go home."
"Dr. Margaret is so much better, young, beautiful, and in the same field..."
I walked straight through the whispers, my gaze locking onto Margaret standing across the room.
She was dressed in a custom designer gown, standing beside Tucker, and the gemstone necklace around her neck caught the light so sharply it stung my eyes.
It was the exact necklace I had once stared at when I got married… and ultimately couldn't afford it.
I stopped in front of her, raised my hand, and slapped her with everything I had!
The sharp smack echoed through the hall, plunging the entire room into silence.
"My mom paid for your education because she wanted you to become a decent person."
I stared at the Outstanding Young Doctor trophy in her hand and said every word clearly, "Not so you could grow up into an ungrateful, backstabbing snake."
Margaret held her stinging cheek, tears instantly filling her eyes.
"Hadley, I was afraid you'd misunderstand! I already submitted my resignation letter. Dr. Tucker only came to present the award. You're misunderstanding everything..."
Tucker grabbed my wrist tightly, his eyes icy. "I won't approve your resignation."
"Hadley! Look at yourself. What's the difference between you and a lunatic right now?!" He shoved me back.
I fell to the ground, my palm scraping painfully against the tile.
Margaret crouched beside me, helped me up, then leaned in and whispered into my ear. "Mrs. Caldwell, I almost forgot to tell you. Your daughter… she probably won't make it to your mother's funeral."
My pupils contracted in shock, and I snapped my gaze to my wrist.
On the monitoring app, the breathing line for Caroline dropped sharply, flattening into a straight line.
"Caroline?!"
I pushed through the crowd and ran out of the hospital.
By the time I reached the location, the kindergarten teacher was already kneeling by the pool, repeatedly giving the address to emergency dispatch.
Caroline lay curled on the cold tiles, her lips turning blue.
I bit down hard to steady myself and forced my shaking hand to dial Tucker.
"Something's wrong with Caroline! She's in anaphylactic shock! She needs emergency surgery now!"
A brief silence. Then his cold voice came through.
"Have you caused enough trouble already? Margaret is giving an acceptance speech. Stop using our child as an excuse. It's pathetic."
The call ended.
People nearby leaned in, whispering.
"What happened to such a small child?"
"If her father knew, he'd be heartbroken..."
The wait outside the operating room felt endless.
When the doctor said there was only a one-in-three chance she would survive, my vision went dark.
And then, a voice came from behind me, "I can increase her chances of surviving the surgery."
- Writer
