The elevator doors open to the private surgical wing, and Julian is standing there with a woman I don't know and papers in his hand. My husband. Blocking the hallway on the morning of the Hargrave surgery. "Celeste." His voice is flat. Professional. The tone he uses with employees he's about to fire. "We need to talk." I'm wearing my scrubs under my coat, my surgical bag over my shoulder. I've been awake since four a.m. reviewing Richard Hargrave's scans—the aortic aneurysm repair that every cardiovascular surgeon in the country would kill to perform. The surgery that will make my career. "I'm due in pre-op in eight minutes." "This won't take long." He steps forward, and the woman moves with him. She's beautiful in that calculated way—blonde highlights, tailored suit, diamond studs that cost more than my car. "This is Simone Voss. My executive VP." Something cold slides down my spine. "And my girlfriend," he adds. The hallway tilts. I grip my bag strap harder. Simone smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm twelve weeks along. We wanted you to know before—well. Before it becomes obvious." Twelve weeks. Three months. I do the math automatically, the way my brain always does. Twelve weeks ago, Julian and I were in marriage counseling. Twelve weeks ago, he told me he wanted to try harder. Twelve weeks ago, I believed him. "Sign these." Julian holds out the papers. Divorce papers. I can see the header from here. "You have sixty seconds before I call security and have you removed from this building." My mouth goes dry. "You can't—" "I'm on the hospital board of directors." Simone's voice is pleasant. Conversational. "As is Julian. Mr. Hargrave specifically requested the surgical wing be cleared of non-essential personnel this morning. For privacy." "I'm his surgeon." "You're a charity case embarrassment my father forced on me." Julian's face is stone. "A resident from nowhere with no connections who somehow convinced him she had potential. He's dying, Celeste. He doesn't get a vote anymore." The words hit like a physical blow. "Forty-five seconds," Simone says. She's checking her watch. An Apple Watch, rose gold, matching her ring. I look at Julian. Really look at him. The man I married four years ago, who told me he loved my ambition, who said he wanted a partner, not a trophy wife. The man whose father gave me a chance when no one else would. The man who is taking it all away. "Thirty seconds." My hands are shaking. I set down my surgical bag and take the papers. There's a pen clipped to the top. I don't read them. I can't. If I start reading, I'll see the details—the division of assets, the terms, the legal dissolution of everything I thought my life was—and I'll fall apart. I sign. My signature looks like someone else's. Shaky. Small. "Twenty seconds," Simone murmurs. I hand the papers back to Julian. Our fingers don't touch. "I hope she's worth it," I say. My voice is steady. I don't know how. Then I pick up my bag, step around them both, and walk toward the surgical wing doors. "Those are restricted," Julian calls after me. "Celeste, I'm warning you—" The doors open before I reach them. Dr. Patricia Chen, Chief of Surgery, is standing in the doorway. She's in her scrub cap already, surgical mask hanging around her neck. Behind her, I can see the scrub room, the surgical staff prepping. "Dr. Monroe," she says. Loud enough for the hallway to hear. Loud enough for Julian to hear. "Mr. Hargrave is asking for you. Are you ready?" Dr. Monroe. Not resident. Not student. Not charity case. I don't look back at Julian. I don't need to. I can feel him frozen behind me, the confusion radiating off him in waves. "Yes, ma'am," I say. "I'm ready." I walk through the doors. They close behind me with a soft pneumatic hiss. Dr. Chen's hand lands on my shoulder. "Deep breath. You've got this." I nod. I don't trust my voice yet. Through the small window in the door, I can see Julian's face. He's staring at the nameplate beside the entrance—the one that lists the surgical team. The one that has my name at the top, with the title he didn't know I had.