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Chapter 3: The Hospital Encounter

The next morning, I wiped the dried blood from my chin, applied a heavy layer of foundation to hide my deathly pallor, and put on my sharpest, most intimidating business suit.

I contacted my personal legal team to draft a unilateral divorce agreement. The contract had zero appendices, zero hidden clauses, and zero hostile demands. It simply stated that both parties voluntarily agreed to dissolve the marriage, and I generously offered a substantial, multi-million-dollar severance settlement to ensure his company remained stable.

“Ms. Rowan, are you absolutely certain you want to proceed without reviewing the asset division?” Hayes, my loyal executive assistant, asked, handing me the thick, freshly printed document.

“No need,” I waved my hand wearily, resting my heavy head on my arm. Having not slept all night, the exhaustion compounded by my advancing illness made my complexion look gray and sunken. “Take me to Gavin’s headquarters.”

Standing beneath the towering, glass-and-steel skyscraper of Gavin’s conglomerate, I felt a strange sense of detachment. I was the one who had insisted on retaining this prime real estate during the bailout; otherwise, it would have been auctioned off to commercial developers years ago.

I walked into the massive, echoing lobby.

“Hello, ma’am. Who are you looking for? I need you to sign the guest registry,” the young girl at the reception desk chirped, stepping in front of the security turnstiles.

“I am looking for the CEO,” I said evenly.

“Excuse me, do you have an appointment?” the girl asked politely.

It was true that I hadn’t informed Gavin I was coming. We had been married for three years, and aside from formal business galas, we never met privately. To say it was a marriage in name only was an understatement. It was a hostage situation.

“I am his wife,” I said, my tone flattening. Even in a building saved by my own capital, I was being blocked by a receptionist.

“I sincerely apologize, I’m a new hire. Let me call his executive suite,” the girl stammered, clearly inexperienced.

“Never mind. I’ll find him,” I waved her off, stepping aside to pull out my phone. I dialed his office line three times. Every single call was forwarded directly to voicemail.

Just then, Gavin’s senior vice president recognized me. “Ma’am! Apologies, the CEO is not in the building right now. He had an urgent personal matter. Would you like to wait in his suite?”

“No,” I said, pulling the thick manila envelope containing the divorce agreement from my briefcase. “Give this to him the moment he returns.”

Meeting him would only spoil the relief I was trying to feel. I turned and walked out of the building.

I needed to go to the hospital for my weekly palliative infusion. As I sat in the crowded, sterile waiting room of the private clinic, the automated PA system droned on, calling out patient numbers.

As I stood up to walk toward the oncology wing, I spotted a familiar, broad-shouldered figure moving urgently through the crowd.

It was Gavin.

What was he doing at the hospital? Was he sick? My heart gave a pathetic, involuntary flutter of concern. I pushed through the crowd, following the direction he had disappeared down the corridor.

I leaned against the tiled wall, breathless from the short walk, my vision spotting with black dots. I looked up at the department sign hanging above the double doors he had walked through.

Obstetrics & Gynecology.

Obstetrics. Could Vivian be pregnant?

While I was still reeling from the shock, the double doors opened. Gavin walked out, his arm wrapped protectively around Vivian’s waist. His handsome face was overflowing with a gentle, radiant happiness I had never once seen him direct at me. He was cradling her as if she were the most precious, fragile object in the universe.

I couldn’t escape in time. I was standing directly in their path.

“Rowan… why are you here?” Vivian gasped, instinctively taking a step backward, hiding behind Gavin’s broad chest. Her panicked, wide-eyed expression made her look exactly like a frightened, innocent rabbit.

It was a brilliant performance. I mocked myself internally. She played the helpless rabbit flawlessly, which instantly cast me as the wicked, predatory wolf.

Gavin’s face hardened the second he saw me. His voice was ice-cold, his eyes blazing with blatant, undisguised contempt. “Are you having me followed now, Rowan? Have you stooped that low?”

I looked at Gavin’s fiercely protective demeanor toward the unborn child in her womb, my heart filling with a bitter, toxic mix of agony and exhaustion.

“I thought the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate would be busy with the quarterly reports,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “But I suppose escorting your mistress takes precedence. You should remember, Gavin, that until my signature is on the finalized divorce decree, she is legally nothing but a homewrecker. And that child is illegitimate.”

SMACK.

A resounding, violent slap echoed through the quiet hospital corridor.

My head snapped to the side. The sharp, metallic taste of blood instantly filled my mouth. I clutched my stinging cheek in sheer, unadulterated shock. From childhood to adulthood, in all my years of navigating cutthroat corporate boardrooms, no one had ever dared to strike me.

The lingering resentment in my heart instantly crystallized into a raging, uncontrollable fire.

I had come here today having already signed the papers to let him go, yet he had taken the sharpest knife available and stabbed it straight through my ribcage.

I naturally refused to be defeated. I raised my hand, intending to strike him back with everything I had. But before my palm could connect, Gavin’s large hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a brutal, crushing grip. He squeezed so hard I felt the delicate bones in my forearm grinding together.

I glanced at the trembling white rabbit cowering behind him, secretly mocking myself. He thought I was going to attack his precious mistress.

One hand was trapped, but I still had the other. Knowing my left arm was weak from the IV treatments, I channeled every ounce of my remaining, failing strength into my shoulder, twisting my body, and brought my left hand across his face.

SMACK.

Another resounding slap.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I hissed, my eyes dark and lethal. “Who gave you the absolute audacity to put your hands on me?”

I had loved Gavin, but that did not mean he was allowed to act recklessly toward the woman who owned his empire.

Gavin clearly hadn’t expected me to strike back. He froze in place, his cheek reddening.

“Enough!” Gavin roared. He grabbed my shoulder and forcefully shoved me backward, trying to push me away from Vivian.

Because my body was already emaciated and weak from the aggressive cancer, the force of his shove sent me flying backward. I lost my footing on the slick linoleum floor.

I slammed violently backward into the heavy, metal-framed fire extinguisher cabinet mounted on the wall.

The glass shattered. I clearly, distinctly felt a jagged, heavy piece of the metal framing slice deeply through my silk shirt, tearing a massive gash across my shoulder blades. The pain was blinding.

“Rowan, do not push me,” Gavin snarled, ignoring the sound of the breaking glass. He wrapped his arm tightly around Vivian, turned his back on me, and disappeared down the corridor.

I clung to the metal railing, my knees buckling. Because my blood pressure was already catastrophically low, the sudden trauma and blood loss restricted the oxygen to my brain. My vision tunneled into blackness.

I collapsed onto the floor, the cold tiles pressing against my bleeding back, and lost consciousness.

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