My Marriage Died in the Operating Room

On the day Bryson Lundeberg and I were supposed to celebrate our anniversary, my mother went into surgery.

I thought everything was under control. But I never imagined that a procedure with a ninety percent success rate would fail.

That left mom comatose.

At first, I wanted to call it an accident. But when I came home late that night, I overheard the truth.

“Bryson, what you did for me… I’m really grateful. If it weren’t for you, I might already be in jail. But I swear I never meant for Hedy’s mom to be in danger…” Debbii Parmelee murmured.

Her voice sounded a little flirty, her body leaning against Bryson.

Without any restraint, he pulled her into his arms.

“What happened was not your fault, to begin with. You had good intentions in giving Hedy’s mom that medicine. She ran into trouble in surgery because her body couldn’t hold up. It’s not on you, okay?” he replied, patting her head to soothe her.

I froze in place, listening as they bantered about my mom like it was entertainment.

Only after hearing everything did I understand why my mom had fallen into a coma.

Debbii had given my mom a large dose of experimental, unapproved drugs before the surgery—that drug sabotaged the surgery!

Worse, Bryson had known it all along!

I wiped away my tears, pulled out the divorce agreement we’d signed before the wedding, and took out my phone.

“Take back all assets and funding we’ve granted Lundeberg Corporation. At the upcoming project bid next week, disqualify them. Use my shares in their company; make sure their stock falls!” I ordered.

“In seven days,” I swore, “Bryson won’t have anything left!”

1

Hedy’s POV

I made up my mind. I handed the evidence over to my brother, choosing instead to stay behind at the hospital to take care of Mom.

What I hadn’t expected was that, later that very night, I would lose all contact with him.

Just as my panic reached its peak, Bryson appeared before me—dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, radiating an untouchable air of superiority.

“The evidence your brother submitted to the cops,” he began coldly, “I’ve already suppressed it. Now, you will write a letter of forgiveness. State that Debbii never intended harm, that you understand her.”

As he spoke, he placed my mom’s hospital bill right in front of me.

“If the machines are removed, your mom won’t last long, Hedy. Think carefully about your next move.”

His unyielding expression crushed the last of my endurance, and tears slipped down my face.

He had once promised me I would never suffer injustice.

And yet here he was—using my mom’s life as leverage, all for Debbii.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I pulled out my phone to call my brother.

When Bryson noticed, he didn’t panic. If anything, a trace of pity curved his lips, as though he were watching an insect struggling uselessly in a spider’s web. He simply waited.

I dialed again and again—ten times, twenty—but all I heard was the busy tone.

Behind me, Bryson let out a soft laugh, pitying, almost gentle. He patted my head and murmured, “Stop calling, Hedy. Don’t you see the truth already? From the very first call that didn’t go through, you should’ve guessed, shouldn’t you?”

My face went pale.

The next moment, he answered a call right in front of me, deliberately putting it on speaker.

“Sir,” his assistant’s voice came clearly, “everything has been taken care of. Ma’am Hedy’s brother has been arrested for bribery. I’ve already sent you the video of his current state. But sir… if your wife finds out, will she—”

The assistant hesitated.

Bryson glanced at my ashen face, then replied smoothly, “She won’t say anything. As long as she makes the right choice, everything will return to normal.”

He ended the call, then bent down and brushed a kiss across my cheek.

His soothing tone was just like the bedtime stories he told me before sleeping every night.

For a moment, I nearly faltered, lulled into confusion.

But then his fingers clamped around my chin, forcing my face toward his phone.

“Hedy,” he said softly, “Kenn just sent me something amusing. I think you should see it, too.”

Despite my desperate struggles, he pressed play.

I had already guessed from their words what I might see. Still, when the video lit up, I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat.

There was my brother—the man who had raised me like a father, the one constant in my life—lying on the ground like a beaten dog.

Blood streamed from his body, pooling into a small dark trench. His leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, grotesquely bent. Men surrounded him, kicking, striking, intent on beating him to death right there.

My vision swam red as I stared at Bryson, disbelief shaking every word from me.

“Why? Why would you do this?”

Was Debbii truly so important to him? She was the one who had harmed my mom, and yet he covered up for her, destroying everything else in the process.

My tears fell one after another onto his hand, scalding enough to make him tremble.

For an instant, pain flickered in his eyes. He even reached out, wiping my tears with slow tenderness.

But his voice stayed cold, unyielding.

“Hedy, Debbii grew up with me. I know her. She just made a mistake. Even if she hadn’t given your mom the wrong medicine, there was no guarantee your mom could have survived the surgery. Just think of it as an accident. Wouldn’t that be better?”

He leaned closer, coaxing softly. “You frightened her with those police reports. You made her cry. If I hadn’t locked your brother away first, she would’ve broken down. Don’t be stubborn, Hedy. Sign the letter of forgiveness. Then, everything will go back to the way it was.”

His gaze softened as he spoke, but my heart only grew colder the more I looked at him.

No. It would never go back. Even if I signed, nothing would ever be the same.

Bryson was no longer the man I had married. To me, he was now a demon.

In our five years of marriage, he had never treated me this way.

Before Debbii returned to the country, he had indulged me in everything.

I had always believed I’d found my lifelong partner.

But now, I saw clearly—he wasn’t my husband. He was hers.

My silence dragged on, and irritation crept into his features.

“Hedy, every minute you waste here, your brother suffers another minute. Or would you rather I decide for you?”

As he said this, a trace of threat appeared on his face.

Before I could answer, he dragged me into my mom’s hospital room.

The next second, he ripped the oxygen tube from her face!

At once, medical staff rushed inside.

I lunged forward, but Bryson blocked me with an arm.

“Sign the letter, and she’ll be fine,” he demanded.

I looked back at him in horror.

“You have ten seconds.”

With a blank expression on his face, his voice dropped to a countdown.

“Ten.”

Suddenly, a stranger yanked my mom off the bed.

“Nine.”

They tore the oxygen mask away, leaving her gasping in agony.

“Eight.”

Dragged across the floor, her body knocked against the doorway, bruises blooming on her fragile skin.

Yet, Bryson remained unmoved, still expressionlessly counting down.

As the count neared its end, Mom’s body convulsed, struggling for air.

I could no longer control myself; tears burst forth in torrents.

“I’ll do it!” I shouted. “I’ll write the damn letter of forgiveness!”