Woken up by a Heart Attack

Wesley's POV

Five years earlier, Amelia Price had been the one to ask me to marry her, promising I'd always come first.

But after we got married, whenever her childhood sweetheart, Norman Wallace, was involved, she never failed to let me down.

"Come on, Wesley. Let's not make such a big deal out of this. I'll be with you through the surgery."

Amelia went on, "Don't worry. They do surgeries like this every day. It'll be the same no matter where it's done. Norman's been in poor health ever since he was a kid. Growing up in the orphanage left him with chronic health problems, and when they flare up, they can be life-threatening.

"Just be a little more understanding. He's been through enough already. Once he's done with his IV and is feeling better, I'll have him give you the room, okay?"

With practiced ease, Amelia reduced a life-or-death situation to nothing more than me throwing a tantrum.

She had built her business with my family's connections and financial support. Yet, whenever it came to Norman, she always brushed it off as an innocent mistake, making no effort to hide where her loyalties really lay.

Amelia kept telling herself she was only making up for the hardships Norman had endured growing up. She never realized that what she dismissed as familial affection had crossed the line long ago.

Another crushing wave of pain ripped through my chest. But I gritted my teeth and endured it.

One look at the impatience written across Amelia's face left me feeling utterly tired. The exhaustion of fighting for this marriage for five long years finally caught up with me.

I wasn't going to gamble with my life anymore.

"You're right. But after I'm discharged, we're getting divorced."

Amelia froze for a moment. She didn't seem to hear the finality in my voice and assumed it was just another one of my outbursts.

She waved me off impatiently, then said, "That's enough. I'm going to check on Norman. Just stay here for a bit. If anything comes up, call me."

Having said that, she turned and went into the private hospital suite, the heavy door slamming shut behind her.

The hallway was bitterly cold, and my flimsy hospital gown offered little protection. I lay on the narrow cot, drenched in cold sweat as the pain dragged me toward unconsciousness.

The hallway buzzed with people coming and going. Some looked at me with sympathy, while others cast curious glances at me.

Weakness swallowed me whole, and I could feel my heartbeat growing increasingly erratic.

Fighting the pain in my chest, I reached beneath my pillow for my phone. I needed to call my parents.

But as soon as the screen lit up, a notification from my social media feed popped up.