David stood frozen, his mind struggling to process Emma’s words. "I won’t be operating on Henry." The relief he had felt moments ago turned into something heavy and unbearable. He had expected anger, maybe even some resistance, but outright refusal? No. Not from Emma—not when she had admitted that Henry’s condition, though delicate, wasn’t impossible to treat. His chest tightened. He couldn’t understand. His voice came out uneven, disbelieving. "You— You’re refusing? Why?" She did hate Alison and David, and she did hope that they would not have an easy life, but Henry was innocent. How could she tell them that the probability of Henry surviving and recovering was very low? How could she say such cruel words? "I don’t owe you an explanation, David," she said. "I have the right to refuse any case, and I’m exercising that right now." David’s breath hitched. "The right to refuse?" He let out a dry, humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "You mean to tell me that after eve
Emma sat at her desk long after David had stormed out, her fingers still curled into the armrests of her chair. “I refuse to believe you'll just sit there and watch Henry die, Emma. Hell, This is not the Emma I know! When did you become like this?” David’s words echoed in her head, and she hated how much they affected her. She wasn’t heartless. She wasn’t cruel…but why did she feel so unsettled? Her jaw tightened as she suddenly felt angry. She had done nothing wrong. Henry’s condition was complex, and her decision was based on medical reasoning. She wasn’t obligated to explain herself to David. And yet… Why was she feeling bothered? She had believed she had moved on. That the past no longer held power over her. But in just a few minutes, with only a handful of words, David had unsettled her in ways she never expected. Had she really made the right decision? The thought disturbed her. By the time she left the hospital that evening, a deep frown had settled on her face. She
In the middle of the night, Emma's phone rang sharply, jolting her awake. She reached for the phone, blinking against the darkness. "Dr. Morgan speaking," she answered, voice hoarse from sleep. "Dr. Morgan, this is Dr. Allen from New York City Hospital. I’m sorry for the late call, but—" The voice on the other end was tense, rushed. "It’s about Henry Lawson." Emma sat up, fully awake now. Her fingers tightened around the phone as she heard his name. Henry… He continued. "His condition suddenly worsened. We’re doing everything we can, but he’s not responding as expected. We need a second opinion, and we were hoping—" Dr. Allen hesitated. "If you would be willing to consult on this." Emma was silent, not knowing what to say at this point. After a brief moment, she responded. “I'll think about it,” and hung up. She closed her eyes, feeling conflicted. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t get involved. That this wasn’t her fight. That she had already made her decision. But
The next day, Emma called Christian and invited him over for dinner. She wanted to talk to him about something important, and she felt she needed to see him in person. By evening, Emma busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal. Cooking had always been therapeutic for her, a way to ground herself when her thoughts became overwhelming. Tonight, she needed that sense of normalcy. As she placed the dishes on the counter, a soft knock echoed through the apartment. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Christian stood there, his familiar, easygoing smile on his face, dressed in a dark sweater and jeans. His presence was a welcome comfort, but as his gaze swept over her face, his smile faded, and a more serious expression settled in its place. "You look like you’ve made a big decision," he observed, stepping inside and glancing around. Emma gave a small nod, closing the door behind him. "I have." Christian walked into the dinin
The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Allison sat beside Henry’s hospital bed, her fingers gently wrapped around his small, fragile hand. His skin was cold—too cold. Every shallow breath he took sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that Henry would wake up and smile at her again. But fear clawed at her chest, whispering dark thoughts she couldn't ignore as she watched her weak and pale son lying helpless on the hospital bed. What if he didn’t make it? What if she lost him? And—though she hated herself for even thinking it—but what if losing Henry meant losing everything else? For years, the world had seen her as Mrs. Lawson. Even though David had never married her, she had been the mother of his son, the woman always by his side at events, the one reporters called his partner. That alone had secured her place by his side, made her important, made her somebody. But without Henry, what
New York at night carried an air of nostalgia that Emma couldn’t shake off. As the car rolled through the familiar streets, she gazed out the window, watching the twinkling city lights blur past. It had been years since she had last been here, yet the city still felt like a distant memory rather than home. Seated beside her, Claire was brimming with excitement, her little face pressed against the glass. “Mommy, it’s so bright here! Have you lived here before?” she asked curiously. Emma smiled softly, tucking a strand of her daughter's hair behind her ear. “A long time ago,” she murmured. Christian, who sat in the driver’s seat, glanced at Emma through the rearview mirror. “You’ll get used to it again,” he said lightly. “New York has a way of pulling people back.” When they finally arrived at Christian’s apartment, Emma took a moment to admire the sleek yet cozy space. She turned to him with curiosity. “I thought your family mainly stayed in Europe. Why do you have a place here
"Emma is Dr. Morgan." For a brief moment, the air seemed to freeze, and a heavy silence swallowed the room. No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Then, instead of reacting with shock or disbelief, Isabel let out a sharp, mocking laugh—loud and unapologetic, as if David had just told the most ridiculous joke of the century. Allison, on the other hand, pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—to suppress her amusement. A quiet chuckle escaped her, and she quickly turned her head away, as if pretending to clear her throat. But the slight tremble in her shoulders gave her away. Isabel didn’t bother hiding her reaction. She shook her head, laughing openly, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, that’s rich!" Isabel sneered, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. "Emma? Dr. Morgan? Please, David, be serious!" Allison chuckled, folding her arms. "You seriously expect us to believe that SHE is the famous Dr. Morgan?" Isabel scoffed as she glared at Emma condescen
Dr. Allen and David both turned to Allison in complete shock, their eyes wide with disbelief. “What?!” They both exclaimed. Allison’s face hardened as she met their stares, her jaw clenched. She had expected their shock, but it didn’t deter her from the decision she had already made. She squared her shoulders, her jaw tightening as she met David’s gaze with defiance. “I don’t trust her with my son,” she said firmly. “And I'm not about to risk my son's life. So, my answer is no! Emma will not be handling Henry's surgery.” Everywhere was silent. Dr. Allen was utterly confused by the turn out of the event. How could Allison refuse to let Dr. Morgan handle her son's surgery? Did she really know what was at stake here? Did she actually think about the situation at hand before speaking? Emma, who had been standing calmly the entire time, finally spoke. “If my medical expertise isn't needed here, then I’ll take the next available flight back to Geneva.” “No,” David interjected sharp
Emma walked briskly through the hospital corridors, her mind still reeling from the conversation she had just had with Dr. Jack. The revelation of Allison's deception burned in her chest like a slow fire, threatening to consume her composure. But she pushed those thoughts aside, at least for the moment. Right now, she needed to check on Henry. When she arrived at his ward, she found two nurses inside, adjusting the IV and checking his vitals. Henry lay in bed, his small frame still weak but visibly better than before. Emma exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Relief flooded her veins as she stepped closer and brushed a gentle hand over his forehead. "How is he doing?" she asked one of the nurses. "His vitals are stable, and he’s responding well to the treatment. He should be able to leave in a few days if everything goes well," the nurse replied with a warm smile. Emma nodded. "Thank you for taking care of him." The nurses nodded and left while Emma stayed by He
Emma stirred slightly, her body aching with exhaustion from the previous day’s surgery. Every muscle felt heavy after the long hours of standing in the operating room. Even though it had drained her completely, she was still grateful it was a success. She let out a slow breath and turned on her side, curling up into the warmth of her sheets. Just a little longer, she thought. Her body was pleading for rest, her eyelids too heavy to keep open. Sleep was calling her back, and she was ready to surrender—until a sudden knock at the door shattered the stillness of the morning. Before she could react, the door swung open, and a small burst of energy rushed into the room. "Mommy!" a cheerful voice rang out. Emma blinked, her tired eyes slowly focusing on the little girl running towards her bed. Claire’s bright smile was like sunshine itself, filling the room with warmth and pure joy. She was already dressed in her little pink pajamas with tiny white stars printed on them, her dark curls
The tension in the operating room gradually dissipated as Dr. Allen completed Henry’s surgery. The medical team worked efficiently, ensuring that henry was stable before preparing to transfer him to recovery. Emma, however, was barely paying attention to the cleanup process. Her mind was clouded with thoughts, particularly about what Dr. Jack had just said. Could it really be maternal genes? Could it be that Allison had asthma and passed it down to Henry? She stood frozen near the surgical table, her gaze fixed on Henry’s still face. Even with the oxygen mask secured over his nose, his breathing remained slightly uneven, a lingering effect of the attack. Emma’s fingers instinctively curled into fists as unease crept into her chest. Dr. Jack noticed her lingering gaze at the little boy whom she'd just operated on. He had been observing her closely, watching the way she seemed lost in thought. He knew exactly what was on her mind after she had questioned him— it was the little boy’s s
Outside the operating room, Allison sat rigidly beside Isabel, her hands clenched together. Anxiety gnawed at her, making every passing second unbearable. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but her expression was unreadable—cold, detached, but beneath it all, restless fear consumed her. She didn’t know what was happening behind those closed doors, but one thing was certain in her mind: if anything happened to Henry, Emma would pay for it. David, who had been standing a few feet away, finally moved to sit beside her. His voice was calm, steady. “Henry is strong, Allison. He’ll make it through this,” he tried to reassure her. Alison nodded, but still stared at the door of the operating room, praying that Henry would be okay, otherwise she would definitely kill Emma! Isabel’s face darkened as she turned to David, her voice sharp with accusation. “I really hope so because I don't understand how you could leave my grandson’s life in the hands of your ex-wife.” She spat out the last t
Allison took a deep breath, forcing a hesitant smile as she looked up at David. “Maybe… maybe you’re right,” she said softly. “I just need a moment to process everything. Can you get me a drink from the cafeteria? I need something to calm my nerves.” David’s tense expression softened slightly. “Of course. What do you want?” “Just water,” she replied quickly. “Thank you.” Without a second thought, David nodded and turned toward the hospital cafeteria. The moment he was out of sight, Allison’s expression hardened. She spun on her heels and hurried down the hallway. She had one goal in mind—find Emma’s office and give her a piece of her mind. And she wasn’t leaving until she made sure Emma stayed out of their lives for good. It didn't take her long to locate Emma and when she got to her office, she didn’t even knock before pushing the door open. Emma barely had time to look up before Allison hissed, “Leave New York. Right now.” Emma arched a brow, unimpressed. “I don’t take
Dr. Allen and David both turned to Allison in complete shock, their eyes wide with disbelief. “What?!” They both exclaimed. Allison’s face hardened as she met their stares, her jaw clenched. She had expected their shock, but it didn’t deter her from the decision she had already made. She squared her shoulders, her jaw tightening as she met David’s gaze with defiance. “I don’t trust her with my son,” she said firmly. “And I'm not about to risk my son's life. So, my answer is no! Emma will not be handling Henry's surgery.” Everywhere was silent. Dr. Allen was utterly confused by the turn out of the event. How could Allison refuse to let Dr. Morgan handle her son's surgery? Did she really know what was at stake here? Did she actually think about the situation at hand before speaking? Emma, who had been standing calmly the entire time, finally spoke. “If my medical expertise isn't needed here, then I’ll take the next available flight back to Geneva.” “No,” David interjected sharp
"Emma is Dr. Morgan." For a brief moment, the air seemed to freeze, and a heavy silence swallowed the room. No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Then, instead of reacting with shock or disbelief, Isabel let out a sharp, mocking laugh—loud and unapologetic, as if David had just told the most ridiculous joke of the century. Allison, on the other hand, pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—to suppress her amusement. A quiet chuckle escaped her, and she quickly turned her head away, as if pretending to clear her throat. But the slight tremble in her shoulders gave her away. Isabel didn’t bother hiding her reaction. She shook her head, laughing openly, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, that’s rich!" Isabel sneered, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. "Emma? Dr. Morgan? Please, David, be serious!" Allison chuckled, folding her arms. "You seriously expect us to believe that SHE is the famous Dr. Morgan?" Isabel scoffed as she glared at Emma condescen
New York at night carried an air of nostalgia that Emma couldn’t shake off. As the car rolled through the familiar streets, she gazed out the window, watching the twinkling city lights blur past. It had been years since she had last been here, yet the city still felt like a distant memory rather than home. Seated beside her, Claire was brimming with excitement, her little face pressed against the glass. “Mommy, it’s so bright here! Have you lived here before?” she asked curiously. Emma smiled softly, tucking a strand of her daughter's hair behind her ear. “A long time ago,” she murmured. Christian, who sat in the driver’s seat, glanced at Emma through the rearview mirror. “You’ll get used to it again,” he said lightly. “New York has a way of pulling people back.” When they finally arrived at Christian’s apartment, Emma took a moment to admire the sleek yet cozy space. She turned to him with curiosity. “I thought your family mainly stayed in Europe. Why do you have a place here
The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Allison sat beside Henry’s hospital bed, her fingers gently wrapped around his small, fragile hand. His skin was cold—too cold. Every shallow breath he took sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that Henry would wake up and smile at her again. But fear clawed at her chest, whispering dark thoughts she couldn't ignore as she watched her weak and pale son lying helpless on the hospital bed. What if he didn’t make it? What if she lost him? And—though she hated herself for even thinking it—but what if losing Henry meant losing everything else? For years, the world had seen her as Mrs. Lawson. Even though David had never married her, she had been the mother of his son, the woman always by his side at events, the one reporters called his partner. That alone had secured her place by his side, made her important, made her somebody. But without Henry, what