I had just set down my suitcase after a week-long business trip.

My husband looked at me and dropped the bomb.

"I want a divorce."

"Mia's pregnant. It's mine."

Mia Bennett. The new nurse in his department.

In my past life, I caused a massive scene the very next day, exposing her as a homewrecker in front of the entire hospital. She was fired on the spot.

But on the day of my father's heart surgery, Vincent received a frantic call. Mia had slit her wrists.

As the lead surgeon, he dropped his scalpel, abandoned my father's surgery, and rushed out of the OR.

My father died on that operating table.

Broken by the sudden loss of my father and my dignity, I zoned out behind the wheel on my way to work and got into a fatal car crash.

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn.

Vincent was standing in front of me, delivering those exact same cold, heartless words.

This time, I just smiled.

"Okay."

~~~~~

Vincent stared. He looked at me like I was a complete stranger.

"You're... not mad?"

He didn't know. The pathetic woman who had once collapsed on the floor, begging him not to leave, was dead and gone.

I sat up straight, smoothed my collar, and kept my voice deadpan.

"Why should I be mad?"

"We split the accounts fifty-fifty. I won't take a dime that isn't mine."

What I didn't say out loud was this: half of that seven-figure savings account came from kickbacks from medical device companies.

When the State Attorney General inevitably came knocking, I wasn't going to let his federal crimes drag me down.

I bent over and pulled my suitcase back out from under the bed.

Panic flashed across Vincent's face. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist.

"Stop packing."

"We don't have to live apart. Aside from the divorce paperwork, everything can stay exactly the same."

I let out a dry laugh.

"Exactly the same? How?"

Vincent opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

"Mia doesn't want a wedding. She just needs me to be divorced so her baby has a legitimate father."

"In everyone else's eyes, we'll still be husband and wife. No one will ever know."

He squeezed my hand, his voice dropping into that soft, coaxing tone he always used to manipulate me.

"We've known each other for nine years, Elena."

"Do we really have to make this so ugly?"

So he did remember. Nine years.

When I first met him, he was a broke med student surviving on scholarships, so poor he couldn't even afford meat in the cafeteria. Half his tuition was paid through loans.

Desperate for money, he rushed to find a job the second he graduated.

But the Cardiothoracic Surgery department at Mercy General was fiercely competitive.

He sent out dozens of resumes. Not a single callback.

At the time, my dad was the Vice President of the hospital. I begged him for two straight weeks until he finally pulled some strings and secured Vincent a residency spot.

Everything that built Vincent into "Boston's top cardiac surgeon" was taught to him, step by step, by my father.

I yanked my hand out of his grip. My voice was ice.

"Mia knew exactly what she was doing when she slept with a married man. That was her choice."

"I have my pride, Vincent. I'm not playing happy family with you two."

"Do you have to be such a bitch about this?" Vincent's face darkened, acting as if I were the one being unreasonable.

I didn't bother arguing.

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and headed for the door.

He chased after me, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist from behind.

"I don't want to lose you, Elena. But at the end of the day, it's my child."

A wave of pure nausea washed over me. I struggled against his grip.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen. The panic on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a soft, tender look.

He hung up and jogged toward the door.

"I have to take Mia to her checkup. We'll talk about the divorce when I get back."

I stood in the entryway, watching the elevator doors close on him.

In my past life, I had actually cried over this piece of trash. What a waste of tears.

I dragged my suitcase down to the underground garage, pulled out my phone, and scrolled down my contacts until I found "Alan Lowell."

Alan. My dad's most brilliant student.

He was now a professor at a top-tier CT Surgery center in London.

A surgeon whose technical skills far surpassed Vincent's.

I had called him in my past life, too. But his schedule was completely booked, and I had been too proud to beg.

I had naively thought that even if Vincent and I split up, he would at least have the basic professional ethics to finish my father's surgery.

I was dead wrong. The man had no soul.

The call connected. Alan's voice was tight with tension.

"Elena. How is Dr. Quinn?"

My nose stung. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.

"Alan, Vincent and I are getting a divorce. Can you come back and do my dad's surgery?"

Silence stretched over the line for two seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was dead serious.

"When?"

"Saturday. Three PM."

"Send me Dr. Quinn's charts. I'll rearrange my schedule."

The old me would have said, Don't go out of your way, it's too much trouble.

But this time, I had no other choice.

"Alan, my dad really needs you."

"Don't worry," his deep voice was steady, grounding me. "I'll get back to you as soon as I can."