Chapter 1

After he lost the ability to hold a scalpel, Jonas Kimball suddenly grew quiet.

He no longer cared that his wife, Leona Chalmers, was trending for grounding a plane for the man who had saved her life. He no longer asked about her commandeering medical resources for that man or getting eight innocent celebrities blacklisted on his behalf.

He had stopped to help an elderly man, only to be accused of knocking him down in a staged scam. Even when the police took him in for questioning, Jonas calmly wrote down the name and phone number of his three-year-old son, Remy Kimball, in the emergency contact field.

The officer frowned. "There's no other adult we can contact?"

Jonas shook his head, his eyes flat and lifeless.

Before long, the maid brought Remy to the police station. The boy was crying so hard that his little face had turned red, and he threw himself into Jonas' arms. "Daddy, let's go find Mommy. She knows lots of people, so she can definitely help you..."

The hand gently stroking his hair suddenly went stiff.

"You're not going," Jonas said softly.

"But Mommy—"

"I said you're not going!" Jonas raised his voice and grabbed his son, who was already trying to run for the door.

The boy was frightened by a harshness he had never seen in his father before, yet he kept struggling stubbornly. "I want Mommy! I want Mommy to save Daddy!"

A sharp slap echoed through the interview room.

Remy froze, too stunned even to cry. He pressed a small hand to his cheek, his eyes wide.

Jonas' hands were shaking violently, and he regretted it the instant he had done it. The hands that had once held a scalpel so steadily could no longer even control the force behind a slap.

He pulled his son behind him and gripped his shoulders hard, his voice dropping low. "You are not going to her. Do you understand me?"

He was afraid Remy would become Bastian Northcott's next target. After all, a single shove from Bastian had sent Jonas crashing into the medical equipment, damaging his nerves so badly that he could never hold a scalpel again.

Those were hands he had trained for 20 years, the only hands in the country capable of performing microvascular anastomosis in the medulla of the brainstem!

Remy trembled in his arms and finally nodded through quiet sobs. "I'll listen to you, Daddy. I won't go looking for Mommy."

…

After Jonas had spent three days in custody, the police found complete footage on another car's dashcam that proved his innocence.

As they walked out of the police station, Jonas crouched down and gently touched the faded red mark on his son's cheek. "Does it still hurt?"

Remy shook his head. "You were right, Daddy. I won't go find Mommy anymore. Last time... last time I went to Mommy's office and bumped into Bastian, and Mommy locked me in a dark room. She said I was being bad."

Jonas' heart clenched, and he pulled his son into a tight hug.

Leona knew perfectly well that their son was terrified of the dark, yet she had still locked him up for an entire day and night when he was only three. Now neither of them dared to go to her anymore.

The two of them walked for a long time before they finally made it home, only to find Leona sitting in the living room with a grim expression.

"Something this serious happened, and you didn't tell me?" She stood, her voice tight with suppressed anger. "I'm your wife, and I had to find out from the news that you'd been detained?"

Jonas let go of his son and signaled for the nanny to take him upstairs. "It's over. I was innocent anyway."

"You—"

Leona was taken aback by his coldness, and her frown deepened. "Jonas, what is going on with you? I've already explained this. Bastian saved my life. When I was in that car accident, he risked his own life to drag me out, and that's the only reason I'm still alive.

"His health is poor, and taking care of him now is just my way of repaying him. Why won't you listen? Why do you insist on throwing tantrums and picking fights?"

She was right. He used to confront her. Did repaying him mean spending every single day by his side? Did repaying him mean turning an entire plane around because he coughed once?

Did repaying him mean taking the appointment with the nerve repair specialist that Jonas had waited three months for and handing it straight to him?

Now, however, Jonas only gave a faint smile. "It doesn't matter anymore. You two have things to take care of, so I won't get in your way."

Leona stared at him blankly. The husband in front of her was clearly the same man, yet there was something icy in his eyes.

The Jonas whose eyes used to light up as he shared the joy of every successful surgery with her, the Jonas who used to sulk and give her the silent treatment when she upset him but always gave in first, seemed to have vanished overnight.

What Leona did not know was that the man she remembered had died on the day his hands could no longer even hold a suture needle.

He had died outside Bastian's VIP suite, where he heard Bastian laugh and say, "Leona, looks like Dr. Kimball's hands really are ruined. Guess he won't be doing surgery anymore, huh?"

Leona had answered, "He'll understand, Bastian. Your health comes first."

Even now, Leona still believed Jonas was only throwing a fit.

"Jonas," she called, her voice softening as she reached for his hand. "Let's talk this through. Bastian's condition has been unstable lately, and I may have neglected you, but I..."

Jonas gently pulled his hand away, avoiding her touch.

"Bastian's health comes first. You should go be with him." He turned and headed upstairs. "I'm going to check on Remy."

Leona stood frozen for a moment before she finally turned and left.

Once he had watched her go, Jonas took out his phone and dialed a number.

"Hi, this is Jonas Kimball. I'm calling about the advisor position on the Neural Interface and Repair project at the National Neuroscience Laboratory. I'd like to accept. If you could rush the visa and security clearance, I'd appreciate it.

"Yes, my son will be coming with me."

After hanging up, he called the lawyer he had already retained, Gilbert Underwood. "Mr. Underwood, go ahead and serve Leona the divorce agreement I drafted. Yes, send it straight to her office. Custody and my share of the assets are all spelled out, and I'm not open to mediation."

When everything was done, Jonas walked over to his son's bed and thought to himself, 'Soon, Remy. I'm going to take you away from here very soon.'