The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back

Ella POV

“And as I’ve been saying, you are the pride of this hospital, Dr. Harper-Vaughn. Your research in obstetrics is truly revolutionary; countless lives are being saved because of you. You should be proud,” the director of my department was praising me. He had called me into his office, and I already suspected it was to talk about exactly this.

“Thank you, Dr. Biscop. But the credit can’t fall solely on me since it was a team effort,” I said with a smile, though Dr. Biscop knew I was just being modest. The heavy lifting had been on my shoulders, something I didn’t mind because dedicating myself to saving lives was what I loved most.

I was so devoted to my work that it almost clashed with my devotion to my husband. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if I loved Marcus or my job more. All I knew was that both made me feel good, and my life was in perfect balance between my two greatest passions.

Thinking of my husband reminded me that today was our third wedding anniversary, and he had promised to make a special dinner. Marcus in the kitchen was always a spectacle; I could hardly wait to get home and enjoy the moment.

“I know you never forget your colleagues,” the director continued with a jovial air, “which is why I’m sure they’ll be thrilled when they hear you’ve accepted the opportunity to specialize in Venice.”

“What do you mean?” I was momentarily confused. Was this a proposal for Venice?

Dr. Biscop leaned slightly forward, his hands clasped. “To be honest, you’re young, brilliant, and dedicated, and our hospital needs more minds like yours, Doctor. That’s why we’ve decided to offer you this opportunity: two years of specialization in Italy with the best doctors in the field. Every obstetrician, novice or veteran, dreams of a chance like this. I don’t need to tell you how incredible this will be for you.”

The director’s words were as sweet as honey, so tempting. Suddenly, my childhood dream was right in front of me, just one step away from coming true. Specialized and highly trained? “Two years…?” I mumbled, not realizing I was speaking aloud.

But what about my husband?

I truly had no complaints about Marcus. He was an excellent husband, so caring and attentive, always there for me, understanding me like no one else. He was everything to me. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have doubted that Marcus would jump at the idea. He’d probably be the first to suggest moving to Venice with me. “It’s about time I put my sexy Italian to use,” he’d say with that mischievous humor I adored.

But Marcus was the heir to a powerful billionaire family, the Vaughns. He was the CEO of Vaughn Enterprises, running the whole operation. I couldn’t just walk up to him and ask him to drop everything and move to the other side of the world with me. I couldn’t be that selfish.

That’s when I realized the huge dilemma surrounding me.

“I can understand your hesitation, Dr. Harper-Vaughn. This is a big deal, a lot to think about. So, take all the time you need to consider this offer, but remember how significant this is for you,” Dr. Biscop said.

“Thank you, truly,” I mumbled with a still-shaken smile.

When I left that office, my legs were practically trembling. Venice? Good heavens, this opportunity was enormous, but I loved my husband and couldn’t leave him alone.

At that moment, my phone pinged with a DM from my husband. It was a photo of him, shirtless and smirking, holding a strawberry cake. “Which dessert are you eating tonight, baby?” the message read. I couldn’t help but laugh. Marcus was so ridiculously romantic, and these little things were what made me fall for him. Today marked our third year of marriage.

“Crap!” I jumped when I saw the time on my phone, realizing I was already late for dinner. I replied with something flirty and rushed toward the parking lot.

Of course, the entire drive home, I was consumed by the dilemma of Dr. Biscop’s proposal. As much as I wanted it, I had to consider that Marcus was more important to me. He made me truly happy, so I’d likely have to turn down the offer.

That’s what it was about, right? Making sacrifices for love.

I might still have had doubts, but they all vanished when I walked into the house and laid eyes on my husband. Upbeat music played from the stereo, and he was humming as he finished preparing our special dinner. Marcus was tall, sculpted, attractive, with a roguish smile that melted me every time.

“Love? How long have you been standing there staring at me, you perv?” he teased, making me laugh.

“What? Can’t I admire my hot husband anymore?” I asked as I approached, a smirk on my lips.

“Hm, only if you let me kiss you.” He pulled me by the waist and kissed me, and I nearly melted with love in his arms. The sigh of relief and satisfaction I let out felt like the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders.

And that was it—that’s what love meant. I could choose my career first, but what would I be without sharing these moments with Marcus?

“I love you…” I murmured as I hugged him, feeling complete with him.

“I’d love you more if you didn’t smell like a hospital right now,” he wrinkled his nose.

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh! You should be used to that smell by now.”

“I prefer your natural scent,” he said, chuckling. He never liked the smell of medicine, which was why he avoided hospitals so much—an irony, considering he married a doctor.

“Hm, lucky for you, you’re deserving, so I’ll get all nice and fragrant for you,” I said playfully, watching him get excited.

“Love that, love you!” he shouted as I walked away toward the stairs. I just laughed, soaking in his energy.

After my shower, wrapped in a robe, I noticed I’d received another DM.

“Love, dinner’s ready. Don’t keep the master chef waiting!” I heard my husband call from downstairs.

“One minute, handsome. I’m coming down!” I replied, grabbing the sexy dress I’d bought for tonight. It was our anniversary; we deserved it.

But first, I opened the DM. And then I wished I never had.

There were messages, clearly from Marcus to some woman named Vanessa, and they were utterly incriminating: the two of them flirting, arranging meetups. There were even photos of them together—compromising photos.

Suddenly, I could barely feel the ground beneath my feet. Marcus… was he cheating on me?

It couldn’t be true, but the evidence was right there. The number that sent the messages was unknown, and that Vanessa—I knew her from somewhere… Then it hit me. She was the patient I’d seen earlier today.

She’d been all smiles, telling me she was pregnant and that her boyfriend loved her so much. So, Vanessa’s boyfriend was Marcus? My husband?