Cameron’s jaw clenched. His eyes locked onto mine. There was a warning in his gaze, sharp and violent. He was daring me to speak. Daring me to ruin his perfect moment.
Then, his expression went completely blank.
"No," he said, his voice like ice. "I've never seen her before."
The words hit me like a physical blow, right in my fractured ribs. Never seen her before. Four years of marriage. Four years of waiting in the dark. Erased in a single breath.
I snatched my medical files from Camille’s perfectly manicured hands. I didn't say a word. I turned my back on my husband and walked away.
I practically ran to the ICU wing. Every second mattered. Professor Raj Valle was the best neurosurgeon in the world, but he was only in the country for exactly twenty-four hours before flying back to Europe. This was my mother’s only window.
When I reached her room, two orderlies were already unlocking the wheels of her bed.
Relief washed over me. "You're taking her up now?"
"Yes, ma'am. OR 3 is prepped," one of them replied.
Suddenly, a man in a crisp suit marched down the hall. It was Mr. Ken, the hospital administrator.
"Stop," Ken ordered, holding up a hand. "Leave the patient. The surgery is canceled."
The world tilted. "What?" I stepped in front of my mother's bed. "What are you talking about? Professor Valle is waiting for her!"
"Professor Valle’s schedule has been subjected to a VIP priority override," Ken said, not even looking me in the eye. "His current slot has been reassigned."
"Reassigned to who? My mother’s brain is swelling! She will die without this bypass!"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Vina. The slot was claimed by a Mrs. Laurent. It comes straight from the top."
Mrs. Laurent. Camille's mother.
"For what?" I demanded, my voice shaking with pure rage. "What life-threatening condition does she have?"
Ken shifted uncomfortably. "A... minor nerve compression in her wrist. She requested the best surgeon available."
A wrist procedure. Camille had used Cameron’s name and executive privileges to hijack a world-renowned neurosurgeon for a minor wrist ache, leaving my mother to die.
I pulled out my shattered phone. I dialed Cameron’s number.
Straight to voicemail.
I dialed again.
Voicemail.
He was ignoring me. He was standing in the lobby with Camille, playing the devoted hero, while he let my mother suffocate.
I looked through the glass partition. My mother looked so small, so fragile amidst the tangle of tubes and wires. The heart monitor beeped erratically, a terrifying, uneven rhythm.
Something inside me snapped.
The obedient, robotic, shadow wife died in that exact moment.
I didn't care about the five million dollars anymore. I didn't care about his pride, his rules, or his wrath.
I unzipped the hidden lining of my leather tote bag. My fingers brushed against a thick, folded document. The one piece of paper I was sworn under penalty of absolute financial ruin never to reveal.
I gripped it tight, turned on my heel, and marched toward the executive wing.
I bypassed the receptionist, ignoring her protests, and shoved open the heavy oak doors to the Hospital Director’s office.
Director Jack looked up, startled, spilling coffee on his tie. "Excuse me! You can't just—"
I slammed the document onto his mahogany desk.
"Read it," I commanded.
Jack blinked, adjusting his glasses. He looked down at the gold-embossed paper. His eyes widened. He read the names. Cameron Smith and Vina Smith. Date of Marriage: Four years ago.
"I am Cameron Smith’s legal wife," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "Not Camille. Me. And you just canceled my mother’s life-saving brain surgery for a minor wrist procedure."
Jack swallowed hard, sweating. "Mrs. Smith, I... the override came from Mr. Smith's assistant. We assumed—"
"I don't care what you assumed," I cut him off, leaning over the desk. "You will reinstate my mother's surgery immediately. If she is not in OR 3 in the next five minutes, I will personally see to it that Smith Enterprises pulls every single cent of funding from this hospital by morning. I will ruin you."
Jack didn't hesitate. He grabbed his desk phone, his hands shaking violently. "OR 3? Get the bypass patient up there now. Yes, right now! Cancel the Laurent procedure!"
I stood up straight, my heart pounding against my bruised ribs. I had done it. I had saved her.
But I was still standing at the desk, signing the emergency consent forms, when the office door flew open.
"Director Jack!" a shrill, furious voice echoed through the room.
Camille stormed in, her perfect face twisted in ugly rage. "How dare you bump my mother's procedure? Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am with? I will call Cameron Smith right now and have you fired!"
Camille finally noticed me standing there. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You again? What is this peasant doing in here? Get her out!"
Camille stepped forward, slamming her designer bag onto the desk. As she did, her eyes fell onto the document lying right in front of her.
She froze.
Her eyes darted across the gold seal. The official signatures. The names.
Cameron Smith. Vina Smith.
The silence in the room was deafening. I watched the realization hit her like a freight train. The arrogant flush vanished from her cheeks, replaced by a sickly, ghost-like pallor.
Her hands began to shake. She stumbled backward, bumping into the doorframe.
"No..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "No, this is a fake. Cam wouldn't..."
She pulled out her phone with trembling fingers and hit speed dial.
He answered on the first ring.
"Camille?" Cameron’s deep voice drifted through the phone's speaker.
"How could you?" Camille screamed, bursting into hysterical, dramatic sobs. "You lied to me! You humiliated me! You made me look like a cheap mistress in front of the entire hospital!"
"Camille, what are you talking about? Where are you?"
"I'm in the Director's office!" she wailed, tears streaming down her perfect face. "Looking at your marriage certificate! Looking at your wife!"
