Chapter 3

Julian hadn't seen the mention of divorce coming. His face darkened with each passing second.

"I won't agree to a divorce," he said.

Camille stiffened. Could the reason he was refusing the divorce be…

Then he added, "Grandma wouldn't agree either."

The sound of the door closing came right after.

Camille stood frozen, a suffocating weight pressing on her chest. The idea that had briefly crossed her mind just now seemed laughably absurd.

How could he be refusing the divorce for her sake? What truly held him back was fear of Anita's disapproval. He had no clue she'd already agreed.

They parted on bitter terms that night and went to bed in separate rooms.

…

The next morning, once the maid, Viola Dorsey, had arrived, Julian slipped out. Camille ate breakfast alone, as if nothing had happened.

Once she'd finished tidying the rooms, Viola stepped out and asked, "Mrs. Hatcher, why are so many things missing from the house?"

Camille paused. Even Viola had noticed how much was missing, yet Julian seemed completely unaware of it. The contrast left no question about his indifference.

She forced a tight smile. "Everything was old, so I got rid of it. None of it was important."

Viola didn't press her any further.

…

At midday, Camille got a call from Joe. There was a major surgery to be done, and the patient's condition was critical.

The surgeon who specialized in cranial surgeries was out of town on business, leaving Camille as the only one who could operate on Michael Lyle.

She hurried to Centrum Hospital, changed into her scrubs, and entered the operating room. All the attending physicians were there, including Kimberly.

The air was heavy with the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

While the other doctors moved in to assess Michael's injuries, Kimberly hung back. She fought the rising tide of nausea, gagging despite herself.

"Dr. Stowell, you're here."

Avery Torres, the anesthesiologist, approached Camille.

"The patient had a fall at a construction site. He was brought in just now, and he's unconscious."

Camille couldn't help but gasp at how serious it was.

An eight-inch rebar had gone straight through Michael's skull and eye. He was unconscious, yet his vital signs persisted. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Swallowing hard against the queasy churn in her stomach, Kimberly asked, "Dr. Stowell, can you really handle this surgery? One misstep and he's dead."

"Or are you volunteering?" Camille shot back.

Kimberly's face twisted with displeasure.

Camille slipped on her gloves and turned to the other doctors. "We'll begin with a decompressive craniotomy, then remove as much of the clot as possible."

Avery and the doctors were ready.

Kimberly bit her lip. "Should I stay?"

"Everyone who isn't needed, out," Camille said, already knowing Kimberly's presence would only get in the way.

"But—"

"Dr. Walsh, the patient's condition is critical. Go and calm the family. That's where you're needed."

None of Centrum Hospital's surgeons would touch the case. One wrong move, and a career could vanish in an instant.

And everyone had seen Kimberly's expression when she walked in. Without her powerful backing, they would've shredded her long ago.

Left with no choice, she clenched her fists and slipped out of the operating room.

…

After confirming that Michael's brainstem was intact and that the cerebral blood vessels showed no visible damage, Camille and her team spent five grueling hours extracting the rebar.

After that, they moved on to reconstruct the skull base.

The surgery stretched into the evening. When the team finally confirmed that Michael's vital signs were stable, a long, collective sigh of relief filled the room.

Once the surgery was over, the other doctors immediately went to inform the family. Camille, however, went directly to the hospital director's office.

When Joe heard that the surgery had gone successfully, a surge of excitement washed over him. "Cami, we really owe this one to you."

"It's not just me. The team worked together perfectly, and the patient was fortunate. The rebar went straight through the brain, but it missed every critical structure. Otherwise, not even a miracle could have saved him."

Joe nodded, then tried again to convince her to stay. "You're really not going to reconsider the transfer?"

He could see for himself just how capable Camille was. Not only was she the youngest surgeon, but she was also a woman, which was a rarity in the medical field.

Orivane was a small city, and its hospital couldn't compete with the benefits and pay offered by those in Solvane. It was a real loss, giving up such a prime position just to transfer to Orivane Hospital.

Camille shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "I've made my decision. But don't worry. If you ever need me, I'll find the time to help whenever I can."

Hearing that, Joe let go of any further attempts to persuade her.

After leaving Joe's office, Camille spotted Julian walking toward her.

She stopped and started to speak, but he passed by her, calling out, "Dr. Stowell, I need to talk with you."

Camille followed Julian out onto the balcony, still visibly drained from a long surgery.

"What do you—"

"Why did you go after Kimberly in the operating room?"