When our sister was severely injured in a car accident, I immediately called my husband, Timothy Jansen, a renowned neurosurgeon.

He promised he would personally handle the operation.

But inside the OR, he let his intern, Valerie Rumsey—who hadn't even graduated—perform the surgery, while he sat nearby, editing her thesis.

Suddenly, Valerie rushed to him, face drained of color, and stammered, "Dr. Jansen, I-I accidentally cut into the patient's brain while I was sawing through her skull.

"The bleeding won't stop. What should I do?"

Then she threw herself into his arms, sobbing as if the world had ended.

Timothy glanced at the flat line on the heart monitor.

After a moment of silence, he gently patted her head and whispered soothingly, "Don't worry. I've got this."

He left the operating room and came straight over to me, his anxious wife.

"The surgery failed. You should start preparing for your sister's funeral," he said flatly.

"Failed? It was just a decompressive craniectomy! How could it fail? She was fine when she was wheeled in!" I cried, my eyes stinging with tears.

I tried to rush in, but Timothy shoved me aside.

"I said the surgery failed. Are you even listening? What good will seeing her do?" he snapped. "This is simply how it was meant to be for her.

"She was barely clinging to life when she arrived. There is no point in trying to save her anyway. The sooner she goes, the less she suffers. Caitlin Palmore, control yourself!"

With that, he pulled the panicked Valerie by the hand and walked away.

I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes following them.

Valerie shot me a smug look over her shoulder.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Did he seriously think the person lying on that operating table was my sister, Keira Palmore?

***

"Ms. Palmore, I'm so sorry for your loss," my assistant, Constance Dunphy, sighed, her face full of sympathy.

I replied coolly, "It's nothing."

Constance was taken aback by my cold composure. She assumed my words were the ramblings of grief, and her pity only deepened.

"Ms. Palmore, if you suspect something was wrong with the surgery..." she began, uncertain.

"Why don't we get our legal team to sue the hospital?"

"No need," I said. "Just have them draw up a divorce agreement for me."

I looked up, my gaze landing on Timothy and Valerie disappearing around the corner.

Valerie, the culprit, didn't show a shred of guilt for what she'd just done.

She was practically pressed against my husband.

Timothy tapped her nose affectionately.

The two of them flirted shamelessly in front of me, their spirits high.

I wondered, once Timothy found out the person lying in the operating room wasn't my sister, but his own beloved little sister, Judith Jansen—would he still be smiling?

Just then, a nurse approached with a death certificate for me to sign.

"Timothy killed her. Let him sign it," I said coldly.

His sister's death had nothing to do with me, especially since I was already planning to divorce him.

"Ms. Palmore, I understand how you feel, but you need to think carefully. Dr. Jansen is your husband," the nurse reminded me sternly. "If you make a scene, it could reflect badly on him."

I sneered, noting the name on her badge and filing a complaint.

Her face darkened with anger. "Fine. If you won't sign, I'll have to notify Dr. Jansen and let him deal with you himself!"

When Timothy joined the hospital, I poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into his department to improve the environment and smooth his entry.

Everyone in the hospital, from the director to the janitors, knew how much I loved him.

Maybe that was why they dared to threaten me so openly.

But I was done with Timothy!

Trying to threaten me with him was just laughable.

That night, as I prepared to send him the divorce papers, a notification for Valerie's newest Instagram post abruptly caught my attention.

One of the photos captured a candlelit dinner of wine and steak, with the two of them cheerfully making heart signs at the camera.

Another showed Timothy in the medical affairs office, deleting the surveillance footage.

"I messed up big time during today's operation. If Tim hadn't covered for me, I might have had to leave school. To thank him, I'm giving myself to him," she had written.

Below, a string of kissing emojis.

I chuckled, tapped the like button, and saved the screenshot as another piece of evidence for my divorce case.

Then I sent the divorce agreement to Timothy.

"Take a look. If everything is fine, come back to sign."

Less than a minute later, my phone rang. It was Timothy.

"Caitlin, what's this supposed to mean?"

He demanded, his tone sharp and accusing.

I forced myself to stay cold, just about to bring up the divorce.

"Don't try to pin this on us. Vally's Instagram post has nothing to do with Keira's death!

"Caitlin, if you keep making wild accusations and causing trouble at our hospital, ruining Vally's graduation, and messing with my career, then we're getting divorced!"

He hung up immediately after delivering his threat.

I stared at my phone, stunned.

Even though my heart had already frozen over and I'd lost all hope in him, I still felt a painful twist in my chest.

I'd thought he called because he'd seen the divorce papers.

Turns out, he hadn't even looked at them—he was just trying to protect his little lover.

"Timothy, I suggest you take a good look at whose sister was actually lying on the operating table today before you come barking at me."

I tamped down my anger and sent him a message.

But only a single gray tick appeared beside it.

He'd blocked me?

I let out a bitter laugh. If he didn't even care about his own sister, why should I care about anything anymore?

Earlier today, I was hosting an important client at work when I got word that his sister, Judith, had been in a car accident.

I dropped everything and rushed to the hospital.

But when I arrived, not a single member of the Jansen family was there for Judith.

I called Timothy right away.

He sounded irritated, said he was on vacation, and told me to find another doctor.

Only after I insisted did he reluctantly show up—bringing Valerie, his intern, along with him.

Judith had suffered a brain hemorrhage, and her intracranial pressure was dangerously high. She needed an emergency decompressive craniectomy.

Timothy assured me he'd do the surgery himself.

I thought it was just a routine procedure—nothing should have gone wrong.

But instead, I got the news that the operation had failed.

Even now, Timothy hadn't realized that the woman lying in the OR was his own sister.

Clearly, he hadn't been the one operating.

But what puzzled me was that Judith's body had been at the hospital all day. The hospital should have notified her family by now.

So why was Timothy still acting clueless?

While I was pondering this, the door lock clicked.

He walked in, with Valerie at his side, dressed up and looking fresh-faced.

"Lol, Tim, you took care of Mrs. Jansen's sister's body without permission. What if Mrs. Jansen finds out and gets mad?"

"So what if she gets mad?

"That woman chased after me like a needy dog for three whole years. If her family hadn't had money and connections to help me out, do you think I'd have married her?"

Timothy wrapped his arm around Valerie's slender waist, sneering.

"But I took a big risk for you today. How are you going to thank me?"

Suddenly, it all made sense—no wonder the Jansen family hadn't heard a thing.

Timothy was worried I'd request an autopsy and sue them, so he'd used his influence at the hospital to handle Judith's body himself.

As a doctor, didn't he realize this wasn't just unethical—it was a crime?

"Hehe, I'm all yours tonight. You can do whatever you want."

Valerie murmured, blushing as she pressed into his arms.

Timothy's lips curled into a smile. He scooped her up in his arms and started toward the bedroom.

But as he stepped forward, he caught sight of me leaning against the bedroom doorway, phone in hand, watching them with a half-smile.

"Caitlin, what are you doing here?"

Timothy gasped, panic flashing across his face.

"This is my house. Why wouldn't I be here?"

I looked at them calmly, unfazed.

"Don't mind me. Go ahead, you two."

"Caitlin, Keira's dead, and you're not even at the wake? What kind of sister are you?"

Timothy let go of Valerie, his face clouded with irritation.

Watching him try to play the victim, I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

He had the nerve to bring his intern home, into our bedroom, and shamelessly do this right under my roof—now he wanted to question me?

"Caitlin, since you're here..."

Timothy's expression was cold and flat.

"You refused to sign, and the hospital couldn't reach your family, so I signed the death certificate for you."

With that, Timothy handed me a cardboard box wrapped in a plastic bag.

"This is Keira's ashes. Saves me a trip."

I'd already expected he wouldn't treat Judith's remains with any decency.

But seeing the flimsy packaging, ashes spilling everywhere as he passed it over, my anger finally boiled over.

"Timothy, you really are in a hurry to destroy evidence for your precious sweetheart, aren't you?"

"Don't slander me. What evidence did I destroy?"

Timothy's face twisted with rage as he threw the box of ashes at my feet.

"Keira died in a car accident—that's her own bad luck. I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker!"

I took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up the box.

Inside, barely half the ashes remained.

"The dead deserve respect. You're a doctor, yet you can't even show the bare minimum of decency to the deceased!"

My fists clenched, my face dark with fury.

Timothy dismissed my accusation with a wave of his hand.

"The crematorium burns so many bodies every day; those ashes all get mixed together. You can't tell who's who. What's the point? As long as there's enough left to bury, that's all that matters."

His words made me laugh in disbelief. How could anyone say something so callous?

"Professor and Mrs. Jansen, please don't fight. It's all my fault."

Valerie suddenly sniffled, seeing us at each other's throats.

"I was the one who packed the ashes. If I'd known, I would've put in more—at least if some spilled, there'd still be enough left."

"How could this be your fault?"

Timothy stroked her head affectionately, then shot me a look of disdain.

"She left her sister's body at the hospital and didn't care. Now she's trying to use Keira's death to extort us.

"You did her a favor by bringing the ashes back, and she's not even grateful. She just wants to blame you. That's what I call heartless."

I nearly lost control, infuriated by the shamelessness of these two.

It was absurd—how could a simple decompressive craniectomy end in death?

And now he expected me to be grateful?

But as the former sister-in-law, I had nothing left to care about.

If Timothy, as her own brother, wanted to thank the person who killed his sister, that was his business.

"Dr. Jansen, don't say that about Mrs. Jansen. She's probably just overwhelmed after losing her sister."

Valerie pouted, feigning innocence, and covered Timothy's mouth with a playful smile.

For a moment, I saw a tenderness in Timothy's eyes that I'd never seen before.

Watching them, it felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

"Mrs. Jansen, people's fates are set. You should let her rest in peace. Otherwise, her ashes might get scattered to the wind outside."

Valerie blinked at me, her eyes wide and innocent, as she handed me the box of ashes.

I sneered and shoved the box back toward her.

"Let Timothy keep the ashes himself."

As I pushed the box away, Valerie suddenly jumped back, tearing a hole in the plastic bag.

Ashes spilled everywhere, filling the room with a choking dust that made me cough uncontrollably.

"Mrs. Jansen, I'm sorry. If hitting me will make you feel better, then go ahead."

Valerie plopped onto the floor, looking pitiful.

"But your sister's death really had nothing to do with me."

"Caitlin, are you out of your mind?"

Timothy stormed forward and slapped me hard across the face.

He pointed at me, full of disgust. "Vally was only trying to help by bringing you the ashes, and you hit her? You're insane!"

He scooped her up in his arms, ready to leave.

"Timothy, let's get divorced."

I pressed my palm against my burning cheek, taking a deep breath.

At that moment, I was too exhausted to argue anymore—I pulled out the divorce papers I'd prepared long ago.

"You want a divorce?"

Timothy snapped his head up to look at me.

His expression shifted from shock to fury, his voice icy.

"Caitlin, I get that you're upset after Keira's passing."

"Put away those divorce papers, and I'll let this go."

I stared back at him, my face unreadable.

"If you refuse to sign, I'll make sure you're held accountable, all the way."

"Did you really think that getting rid of her body and erasing the security footage means I can't sue?"

Timothy's face went pale.

Valerie's nerves showed, too, her fingers tightening around his sleeve.

"Caitlin, you're acting like a hysterical lunatic. It's downright repulsive!"

Timothy's features twisted in frustration. He took a deep breath, then spat out, "You want a divorce, huh?

"Fine! I'll give you what you want!"

He snatched the papers and signed his name with a vengeance.

"Tomorrow at nine, I'll see you in front of the courthouse."

I tucked the agreement away, a small smirk on my lips.

He grabbed Valerie's hand.

On his way out, he shot me a cold, mocking look.

"Just don't come crawling back like a dog tomorrow, begging me to stay."

I returned to my parents' house and told Mom, Dad, and Keira everything about the divorce.

At first, my parents tried to talk me out of it, but after I explained everything that had happened that day, they were furious.

Timothy thought he could get away with everything simply because it was my family who got hurt.

But this proved that if something truly happened to us, he'd show no loyalty at all.

The next morning, I grabbed the divorce papers and headed for the courthouse.

To my surprise, my in-laws, Shawn Jansen and Sophia Jansen, showed up carrying funeral wreaths and paper money.

We ran right into each other at the door.

Sophia immediately started in on me.

"Cait, how could you be so thoughtless, talking about divorce with Tim? You're just self-employed, but Tim is a doctor with a secure position. If you really go through with this, you'll regret it.

"Shawn and I spent all night talking him out of it. You need to call him and apologize right now."

I ignored her and let out a bitter laugh.

Had they forgotten how their precious son got where he is today?

If it weren't for my spending money, pulling strings, and going to great lengths to help him land that hospital job, he wouldn't be here.

My parents even swallowed their pride and called in favors to get him into a top hospital for training.

That's how Timothy earned his reputation as a surgical prodigy at such a young age.

And now, they had the nerve to act like I wasn't good enough for him?

"You should quit your little business and give Tim a child already."

Sophia, mistaking my silence for hesitation, pressed on earnestly.

"Keira's gone now. Your parents only have you left.

"When they're gone, everything will go to your own child anyway. Isn't that more reliable than working yourself to the bone?"

Her words made my teeth clench with rage. Did they really think they could just count on me to give them a grandchild and inherit everything?

"You and your family are the ones who are supposed to be gone!"

Right then, Keira burst out of the house, broom in hand, and started swinging it at them.

Shawn and Sophia were so shocked they forgot to dodge, staring at Keira in horror.

"You—you're still alive?"