Sweet Revenge

Daniel's POV

Back home, I started getting my affairs in order.

After finalizing Mom's surgery and recovery plan, I began clearing out things related to Vivian. I dug out every keepsake I'd saved from the day Vivian and I met until now and, one by one, tossed them into a metal basin in the bathroom and set them on fire.

Twenty years' worth filled the basin to the brim. It didn't burn easily.

The orange peel she'd secretly saved and dried the first time I brought her, the orphan girl, home for dinner in elementary school. The diary she kept in high school about her crush on me. The train tickets from our long-distance years in college. The pressed petals from her wedding bouquet...

The smoke made my eyes stream again and again, and again and again I wiped them dry.

I had a video call with Mom before her surgery soon. I couldn't let her see my eyes red from crying. Even more, I couldn't let her know that Vivian, who'd once promised to treat the two of us as her closest family, was now willing to sacrifice both our lives for her career, all in the name of avoiding favoritism.

The fire was roaring when Vivian walked in, back from treating the young man's family to dinner. The flames startled her. She rushed over and started dousing them with the showerhead.

"Are you insane? Is this your idea of revenge? Are you trying to take us both down with you?"

I lowered my eyes.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

After all, there were no memories left between us to burn.

She let out a soft sigh and was about to help me up when she noticed half our wedding album was missing. Heartbroken, she snatched it out of the basin and smothered the sparks with her bare hands. When she saw the photos had been reduced to charred scraps, she couldn't help glaring at me.

"It's just a heart! It's not like you're dying tomorrow! You did all this to guilt me into getting the heart back for you, didn't you? Well, I never will! Because I'm not just your wife. I'm the director responsible for millions of patients!"

She stood there so righteous that even the cramped bathroom couldn't contain her glow.

It was true. When the security guard at our apartment complex had kidney failure, Vivian had privately searched everywhere, even the black market, until she found a matching kidney for her. When a hospital janitor damaged her eyes, Vivian intercepted a patient who'd just died in a car accident and got down on her knees to beg the family, securing the corneas. And now that, Noah Blake, the college student she sponsored had heart disease, she was taking my last hope.

She'd been so busy getting the heart for him that she hadn't looked at my test results in a week.

In the blink of an eye, the orphan who used to eat at our table had become the saintly director everyone praised for healing the sick.

I couldn't help letting out a bitter laugh. So "avoiding favoritism" really meant avoiding me!

I pushed her away, bracing against the crushing pain on the left side of my chest.

"Dr. Foster, are you hungry? Want me to make you some pasta?"

Her eyes flickered. Then she suddenly snapped and shoved me hard to the floor.

"Daniel, stop acting like you're half dead! Didn't you love throwing tantrums? This fake generosity of yours is even more disgusting!"

So she knew how ugly fake generosity was.

I pushed myself up against the wall and took a long, deep breath to ease the tightness in my chest.

"Not in the mood for pasta? Then how about your favorite chicken pot pie?"

Her face turned to ice. She grabbed my collar with a cold glare.

"Don't forget, Mom has heart surgery tomorrow. If you want her to live, stop provoking me like this!"