The March weather had finally begun to warm, with hints of spring in the air.
Since returning from the medical conference, I’d been obsessively organizing my research materials, checking and rechecking to ensure nothing was missing.
After what felt like the hundredth review, I finally handed the thick folder to our research group leader, Dr. Violet Perez.
Violet flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning my meticulous notes and annotated research papers. When she looked up at me, a smile spread across her face, then she turned to address the entire team gathered in the conference room.
“Everyone, this is exactly the kind of thoroughness we need!” she announced, holding up my folder. “Sophia has compiled one of the most comprehensive literature reviews I’ve seen in years. This is the standard I expect from all of you.”
I accepted the praise with a gracious nod, though inside I felt a strange mix of pride and anxiety.
The truth was, I had joined this cardiovascular research group only to find ways to alleviate William’s deteriorating heart condition.
Years ago, as a student, I’d chosen to specialize in cardiology because of Harper.
Later, this knowledge was only used for Henry.
Now, I hoped to help William get through this difficult time.
After the meeting dispersed, Violet motioned for me to stay behind. Young as she was, she had already become an internationally recognized expert in cardiovascular disease. Her reputation in both American and European medical circles was impeccable.
“Sophia,” she said, pulling a worn leather journal from her bag. “I’ve reviewed your resume. You have excellent theoretical knowledge, but you lack practical experience.”
She handed me the journal. “These are my handwritten notes from fifteen years of clinical practice. Every case, every unusual presentation, every treatment adjustment–it’s all in here. I’m lending it to you.”
I took the journal as if it were made of glass.
“Violet, this is… I don’t even know what to say. Thank you so much.”
She waved off my thanks, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t thank me. If you want to thank someone, thank William. He funded my studies abroad years ago.”
She paused, her eyes meeting mine.
“I also heard Henry has been having heart issues. You might find something useful for him in there too.”
I wanted to explain that Henry and I were divorced, but Violet stopped me before I could get the words out.
“You don’t need to explain your personal situation to me,‘ she said firmly. “In my eyes, every patient deserves help, regardless of who they are or what your relationship with them might be/ She gave me a knowing look. “I did my research on you and Henry before bringing you onto this team. But to me, he’s just another patient who needs assistance. Please try to have some patience with him.”
“The reason I’m giving you these notes,” she continued, ‘is because I hope you might find something in there that could help patients, whoever they may be! Remember, we are healthcare professionals.”
With that, Violet gathered her things and walked out, leaving me frozen in place.
1/3
Chapter 378
For days, I’d known Henry was in the hospital, but I hadn’t visited him once. In my mind, he was a stranger now, someone I no longer needed to concern myself with.
But Violet’s words had awakened something in me.
Henry might be a stranger, but he was a stranger who had once taken a knife meant for me.
When Oliver had me thrown in jail, it was Henry who had rushed in without hesitation to pull me from that darkness.
Was this how I should treat someone who had saved my life?
Moreover, as a healthcare professional, was I really upholding my ethical standards by treating a patient this way?
I took a deep breath and carefully tucked Violet’s notebook into my bag.
Then I turned and headed toward Henry’s hospital room, mentally preparing myself: just treat him like any other patient. That’s all he is now- just another patient.
Henry stared out the window of his private hospital suite, completely unmoved by the early spring scenery. The trees were beginning to bud and patches of green were appearing in the hospital courtyard, but he couldn’t have cared less.
His mind was consumed by one thing: Sophia using him as a replacement for Sam.
With the revelation of Billy’s true paternity, his hatred for the dead soldier had only intensified.
But who argues with a ghost?
From the moment he’d first heard Sam’s name, Henry had felt an inexplicable panic.
He recalled the many nights when Sophia, caught in the grip of nightmares, had called out “Sam” in her sleep.
It meant that during their six years together, Sophia had never forgotten Sam. In her midnight dreams, the person she longed for was always Sam. So was Henry just supposed to accept being a replacement because he happened to have a face similar to Sam’s?
Sophia, how could you be so cruel?
Since discovering Sam’s existence, Henry had ordered James to investigate everything about the man, particularly his relationship with Sophia.
James had returned with numerous photographs–Sophia and Sam embracing, Sophia smiling sweetly, her eyes full of stars.
They were both so young, full of life–riding bicycles together, flying kites, catching fish by the stream, traveling, attending parties.
Each photo deepened the hatred in Henry’s heart. Those moments of passionate youth were experiences he had never shared with Sophia.
If she loved Sam so much, why had she ever claimed to love him?
Could her love really be divided between two men?
In contrast, Henry couldn’t recall a single photograph of himself with Sophia. They didn’t even have proper wedding photos. And Sophia’s phone had never contained any pictures of him.
He remembered one particular fight they’d had. After arguing, he’d retreated to his study while Sophia had gone to the storage room. Later, he’d heard her soft crying and had pretended to walk past the storage room. He’d caught her holding an old smartphone, simultaneously laughing and crying as she looked at it.
When Sophia had noticed his presence, she’d quickly hidden the phone behind her back, wiped away her tears, and walked past him without a
word.
2/3
Chapter 378
Now, he desperately wanted to know: when Sophia moved out of Maple Grove, had she taken that old smartphone with her? Did it contain memories of her and Sam?
The thought prompted Henry to immediately call the housekeeper at home to confirm.
“Sir, there’s no phone in the storage room,” the housekeeper reported. “Just some miscellaneous items. I haven’t seen any phone.”
As he heard these words, a dark cloud settled over Henry’s heart.
Well played, Sophia. You’ve had me in the palm of your hand this whole time.
Does it give you a sense of accomplishment to toy with me like this?
