When I was a child, my mother died because of insufficient medical skills. That day, I could do nothing but watch as she slipped away.
Since then, my dream had always been clear—to become a brilliant doctor, one who could conquer all diseases, one whose name would be etched in history. I had imagined standing on grand stages, receiving countless awards for my achievements in medicine.
But reality was cruel.
That dream never came true.
Still, before I walked away from it all, I wanted to see for myself.
So, I went to the award ceremony alone.
As soon as I stepped inside, my eyes landed on Tristan, who was standing close to Faye, carefully adjusting her hair. His fingers lingered, his expression soft. Their faces were so close that their lips almost touched.
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Tristan noticed my arrival, but there was no guilt in his eyes. Instead, he merely turned to me and said, with the same practiced gentleness he always used:
"I'm sorry, my wife. Faye’s condition hasn’t been stable these past two days, so I couldn’t go home to take care of her."
His words were an apology, but they carried no weight.
I ignored him and found a seat.
Seeing this, he hesitated for a moment before sitting beside me.
Not long after, Faye approached, her gaze sweeping over me before she smiled sweetly and spoke in that familiar, saccharine tone:
"Sister-in-law, I’ve always liked sitting with my brother since I was little. I still do, even now. You don’t mind, right?"
I met her gaze and hummed lightly, "No mind."
It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in Tristan’s eyes.
The award ceremony began.
The host on stage praised Faye to the heavens, reciting her so-called achievements one by one. But with every word, my hands clenched into fists.
Because every medical breakthrough they attributed to her—every brilliant discovery—had come from the knowledge recorded in my own notebook.
The very notebook I had spent years filling.
The audience was in awe.
"Dr. Faye is incredible! She’s solved so many medical challenges."
"Look at her and her brother sitting together—they’re both so good-looking. Honestly, if they weren’t related, they’d make a perfect couple."
"Unlike that pregnant woman sitting beside them… no matter how much she tries to cover up, you can tell she looks old. And I heard her private life is a mess. She was with an old man even though she already had a husband. I don’t know what Mr. Sinclair saw in her."
"She used to be a doctor too, right? Thank God she isn’t practicing anymore. I’d feel disgusted to be treated by someone like her."
The words stung, but I didn’t flinch.
Beside me, Tristan’s expression darkened. With just one cold glance, the whispers died down.
He took my hand, his grip warm and firm, as if shielding me from their words. His voice was filled with tenderness as he said:
"Wife, don’t listen to them. They’re just jealous of our happy marriage."
I looked at him.
For the first time in a long time, I really looked at him.
And finally, I asked the question that had been weighing on my heart.
"Did you give my medical notebook to Faye?"
His fingers stiffened around mine.
For a brief second, guilt flickered in his eyes. But then, just as quickly, he smoothed his expression and feigned ignorance.
"Wife, what are you talking about? Didn’t you lose that notebook a long time ago? Faye is smart—she wouldn’t need to rely on something like that."
In that moment, whatever little affection I had left for Tristan completely shattered.
After the ceremony, I stood outside the garage, waiting for Tristan to bring the car around. The night air was cold, but not as cold as the realization settling in my heart.
Footsteps clicked against the pavement.
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Faye approached, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, a smug smile playing on her lips. She lifted it slightly, as if to make sure I saw it sparkle under the dim light.
"Eliza," she said, her tone dripping with triumph. "No matter how smart you are, no matter how talented you were in medicine, in the end, the trophy still belongs to me."
She took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with malice.
"I’d say you’re nothing but a failure. You lost your career, and in love—you’re even worse. The childhood sweetheart who should have stood by your side? He betrayed you for me. And the man you married? He’s nothing more than my obedient slave."
Her words cut like a blade, but she wasn’t finished.
"Do you know who gave you to that old man?" She leaned in, lowering her voice as if savoring the moment. "It was my brother. He planned it all—to make sure you could never ruin my happiness. And your family's bankruptcy? That was his doing too. Every creditor who hunted you down, every moment you spent struggling to survive—it was all part of his design."
I already knew the truth.
But hearing it from her lips still made my chest tighten, made something inside me twist and ache.
She waited for my reaction, expecting to see me crumble.
Instead, I met her gaze and let out a soft laugh.
"Faye," I said, tilting my head, "you can steal a trophy, a career, even a man—but no matter how high you climb, you know the truth better than anyone, don’t you?"
I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"You didn’t earn this. You never could. And you should worry less about flaunting your stolen achievements…" I let my gaze drift to the trophy in her hands before meeting her eyes again.
"…and more about how hard the fall will be when the truth finally catches up to you."
