Part 2: The Surgeon’s Scalpel

David hung up his phone, a smile forming on his face. “Ah, Dr. Thorne! Excellent timing. My mother just flew in. Mom, this is the wonderful doctor who looked after Danielle in the ER.”

Eleanor turned her head, her smile tight and aristocratic. “Thank you, Doctor. The Salvatore family is deeply grateful for your—”

Eleanor stopped speaking.

Her jaw literally dropped. The color drained from her face so fast I thought she might faint right into the hospital linoleum. She blinked rapidly, her eyes darting from my face, to my nametag, to the white coat, and back again.

“C… Camila?” Eleanor whispered, her voice cracking like dry glass.

David froze. He looked at his mother, then looked at me, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. “Mom? What are you talking about? This is Dr. Thorne.”

“David…” Eleanor gasped, standing up so fast she knocked her designer purse off the chair, its contents spilling across the floor. “David, look at her! That’s… that’s your wife!”

David stared at me. Really stared at me this time. The clinical mask, the glasses, the commanding aura of the hospital chief—it all melted away in his mind, and he finally saw the woman he had left at home the morning before.

“Camila?” David choked out, his face turning an asymmetric shade of pale. “What… what is this? Why are you wearing that? Why are you in this hospital?”

“I work here, David,” I said, stepping up to the foot of Danielle’s bed. I rested my hands on the metal rail, looking down at the three of them. Danielle was looking between us, her eyes wide with a sudden, paralyzing terror as she realized exactly who I was.

“You… you’re a doctor?” David stammered, his legal eloquence completely deserting him. “Since when are you an OB-GYN? You told me you worked in medical research administration!”

“No, David. You decided I worked in administration because you never listened when I talked about my residency matching,” I said, my voice smooth and deadly. “You were always too busy talking about your cases, your firm, your legacy. You never looked at my paychecks, you never looked at my schedule. You just assumed I was a failure because your mother told you I was.”

“Camila, this is highly inappropriate!” Eleanor suddenly shrieked, recovering her venom. “How dare you infiltrate my son’s new family! How dare you treat his pregnant wife! This is a conflict of interest! I will have your license revoked!”

“Actually, Eleanor, I am the chief resident on this floor, and I saved this girl’s pregnancy two nights ago while your son was crying in the hallway,” I said, turning my gaze to Danielle, who was shrinking back into her pillows. “And as for ‘his’ pregnant wife… I think we need to clear up a few medical facts before we proceed with any divorce agreements.”

David stepped forward, his fists clenched, trying to reassert his dominance. “Camila, shut up! We are leaving. I am transferring Danielle to another hospital right now. You are unhinged!”

“You can’t transfer her until I sign the discharge papers, David. And you’ll want to hear what I have to say,” I said, pulling the lab report from my tablet. “You see, for eight years, I let you and your mother believe that our inability to conceive was my fault. I did it because the specialist we saw in Boston gave me a private report. A report that stated you, David, have a genetic anomaly resulting in complete, irreversible azoospermia. Zero sperm count. You are, and always have been, entirely infertile.”

The room fell into a suffocating, breathless silence.

David’s chest was heaving. “You’re lying,” he whispered, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “You’re a psycho. I’m a Salvatore. My family—”

“Your family legacy ends with you, David,” I interrupted, tossing a copy of the Boston medical report onto his lap. “But don’t worry. Your mother is still getting her grandchild. It just won’t have a single drop of Salvatore blood.”

I turned my eyes directly onto Danielle. She was trembling, tears of pure panic spilling down her cheeks.

“What is she talking about, Danielle?” David asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying, hollow whisper. He turned to his mistress, his hands shaking as he grabbed her arm. “Danielle? Tell her she’s lying. Tell this crazy bitch she’s lying!”

Danielle didn’t answer. She looked toward the door, as if praying for an escape.

“She can’t tell you I’m lying, David, because she knows exactly who Ivan is,” I said, pulling up the genetic screening results on my tablet screen and turning it so both David and Eleanor could see the bright red text highlighting the paternal mismatch. “The biological father of that baby is currently sitting in the cafeteria downstairs, waiting for you to sign over my townhome so he and Danielle can move in.”

David looked at the screen. He looked at the blood types. As a lawyer, he knew exactly how to read a forensic report. The reality of the deception hit him like a physical blow. He stumbled backward, his back hitting the windowpane.

“No…” Eleanor gasped, clutching her chest, her face turning purple. “No, this is a mistake! Danielle, tell him! My grandchild! My grandson!”

“It’s a girl, Eleanor,” I said with a sweet, venomous smile. “And she belongs to Ivan.”

Danielle suddenly burst into hysterical tears. “David, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! He was going to leave me! I didn’t have any money! You said you were rich, you said you could take care of us!”

David looked at Danielle as if she were a monster. The grand, beautiful illusion of his perfect new life, his virility, his triumph over his “barren” wife—it all shattered into a million jagged pieces in the span of thirty seconds.

“You… you lied to me,” David choked out, his voice cracking as he looked at Danielle, then turned his eyes to me, his expression suddenly filled with a pathetic, begging desperation. “Camila… Camila, please. This can’t be true. You… you hid my medical results? You protected me?”

“I did,” I said, stepping closer to him, looking down at his pathetic, broken form. “I loved you enough to protect your pride for eight years. And you repaid me by trying to throw me out on the street with nothing while I was saving the life of the baby your mistress conceived with another man.”

The hospital administrator stepped forward, coughing discreetly. “Dr. Thorne, the process servers have arrived downstairs.”

I smiled. “Perfect. Send them up.”

The door opened, and two men in suits walked into the room, carrying thick manila envelopes. They bypassed Danielle, bypassed Eleanor, and walked straight up to David, dropping the heavy files into his numb hands.

“David Salvatore, you’ve been served with a contested divorce petition, a motion for full financial audit of Salvatore & Associates regarding marital assets, a lawsuit for the return of $150,000 in parental loans, and a court-ordered subpoena for a legal DNA paternity mandate,” the server stated mechanically before turning and exiting the room.

David looked at the papers, then looked up at me, his eyes wide with horror as he realized the sheer scale of the trap he had walked into.

“Camila…” David whispered, stepping toward me, his hands reaching out. “Please. We can talk about this. We can fix this. I didn’t know… I swear I didn’t know…”

“There is nothing to fix, David,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “You wanted a divorce. Now you’re getting one. But you’re not getting the house, you’re not getting my money, and you’re certainly not getting an heir.”

I turned to the nurses. “Ms. Vance is medically cleared for discharge. Please process her paperwork and have security escort her and her guests out of the building immediately. They are no longer welcome on this floor.”

I turned on my heel and walked toward the door.

“Camila! Wait!” David screamed, running after me into the crowded hospital hallway. “You can’t do this to me! My firm! My reputation! My mother’s heart!”

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, right under the bright fluorescent lights, surrounded by my colleagues, my nurses, and the security guards who were already moving in. I looked at David Salvatore—the man who had spent eight years making me feel like less than a woman—and I let out a soft, beautiful laugh.

“Watch me,” I whispered.

But as I turned to walk away, David’s face suddenly contorted from desperation into a dark, vicious sneer. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, black flash drive, his voice dropping to a pitch that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“You think you’ve won, Camila?” David hissed, his eyes gleaming with a manic, dangerous light. “You forgot one thing. I’m a defense attorney. I know every dirty secret this hospital hides. And if you think I’m going down alone… you haven’t seen what I found in your father’s old medical files.”

I froze in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat as a cold dread flooded my stomach.

What did he have?

What dark secret did David find about Camila’s father? To find out what happens next, look for Part 3 in the comments below! If you don’t see it, tap “View all comments”!

See more on the next page