All Chapters of Surgeon's Revenge: From Ex Wife To Country's Best Doctor : Chapter 121 - Chapter 127

Calista's POV I told myself nothing had happened yet. There was no official notice, no knock on the door. No agents standing in my living room with a warrant in their hands. The house was still quiet, the same expensive quiet it had always been, the low hum of the air conditioning, the faint tick of the clock on the mantel, the soft creak of the floorboards when I paced, for a few hours I almost believed that silence meant I still had time. Then the calls started going unanswered. The first one was a woman who used to handle small transfers for me without asking questions. I dialed her number and listened to it ring. Once. Twice. Five times. Voicemail. I left a message, voice carefully even. “It’s Calista. I need you to move something for me. Call me back as soon as you can.” I waited but the message stayed unread. The single check mark on the screen felt like a closed door. I tried a man at the bank next. The one who normally replied within minutes, sometimes seconds. I typed

Spencer's POV Scarlett was on the phone in the hallway when I sat down on the living room floor with Aiden. He had the tablet propped against a stack of books, the echo video already queued. Valeria sat at the table with her sketchbook open, pencil moving in short, precise strokes, but her eyes kept flicking toward the hall. She heard everything, so did I. “Yes… Emma’s proffer went clean." Scarlett said. "They’re locking the agreement today… No, Calista’s under watch but they haven’t moved publicly yet. They’re trying to keep the full weight of what Emma gave them from leaking until the supporting records are nailed down… Konrad’s still one step behind formal inclusion. Ashfield said we’ll know very soon whether they can bring him in properly.” "Uncle Spence," Aiden nudged my knee harder than necessary. “Frames.” “Forty-two,” I said, my eyes stayed on the screen but my attention didn’t. “Forty-three.” Scarlett hung up and came into the living room and stopped in the doorway, pho

Scarlett's POVI was still sitting on the bottom step when I heard the first set of footsteps on the stairs.I stood up fast, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and walked into the kitchen before either of them could see me on the floor. I turned on the faucet and let the cold water run over my wrists until the skin went numb. The coffee Spencer had made was still sitting on the counter, half-cold, the dark surface reflecting the overhead light. I poured it down the sink. The smell of it made the empty space near the stove feel sharper. I started a fresh pot because the silence needed something ordinary to fill it.Valeria came in first, sketchbook tucked under her arm, socks quiet on the tile. She stopped just inside the doorway and looked at the place where Spencer usually stood with the spatula, her fingers tightened on the edge of the sketchbook, then she looked at me.“Good morning,” I kept my voice even. “Sit down, I’m making eggs.”She set the sketchbook on the table witho

Scarlett's POV The ICU was more than the emergency floor. The nurse slid the glass door open just enough for me to step through. The monitors hit me first, steady beeps, the sigh of oxygen, the low continuous hum of machines doing work that should have been ordinary. Spencer lay in the bed, lines running from both arms. One leg was in a heavy brace, bruising spread dark across the left side of his face and down along his collarbone where the seatbelt had locked and had bandages on, his eyes were close. I had stood at the foot of beds like this a hundred times. I had delivered updates in a calm voice while families came apart in front of me, none of that training reached me now. My throat closed and my hands started shaking before I even reached the rail. This was not a patient. This was the man who made coffee every morning for eleven years, who counted standing kicks so a ten-year-old’s heart rate stayed safe, who had walked out of our kitchen hours earlier with his jaw locked an