Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal: I Left, He Crawled Back

Irene went to the hospital, and the surgery went smoothly.

During the observation period, a faint dizziness lingered. It took her a bit of effort to fumble her phone out.

More than a dozen missed calls were from Ethan, mixed in with a stream of messages.

Without exception, every single one was about Sophie.

The silver Porsche had been wrapped in a flashy rose-pink vinyl, because Sophie liked it.

The interior accessories had been completely replaced too. In the photos, an eyesore of a storage box lay on the ground, stuffed with Irene's belongings.

Ethan had rarely bothered to ask her opinion, "Do you want me to bring them back, or throw them away?"

She pressed her lips together before replying, "Throw them away. None of it matters."

The lipstick was a gift from him. The keychain had been a matching pair. Mixed in among them was a lone wedding ring.

She had taken it off the day she learned the truth and tossed it in without a second thought.

None of it mattered anymore.

But Ethan called her directly. "I'm at the hospital with Sophie. Did I just see you?"

She was just about to brush it off when she looked up and saw Ethan coming up from a side elevator, his arm linked with Sophie's.

For a brief moment, the first thought that flashed through Irene's mind was relief.

At least her observation period was over, and she had come downstairs for some air.

Ethan walked over, his expression flat. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting a prescription for nutritional supplements."

Sophie interlaced her fingers with his, tilting her head as she looked at Irene with a half-smile.

"What a coincidence. No matter where I go, I always seem to run into you, Irene."

She had an innocent, first-love kind of face, her tender, luminous skin setting off a pair of eyes that shimmered softly.

Irene felt nothing but irritation at the sight.

She had deliberately chosen a hospital with no ties to the Hart family, yet still managed to run into them.

Ethan didn't notice her pallor at all, or the slight tremor running through her as she stood there.

He only frowned, tightening his grip on Sophie's hand.

"Perfect timing. Sophie wants beef stew. I had Agnes buy the ingredients. Go back and make it."

Irene ignored him completely and walked straight past.

Ethan kept talking behind her, "And nutritional food too. Sophie will want it as soon as we get home."

She had no choice but to stop. Turning back, she looked at him with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Ethan, if you want to please her, you don't need to order me around. Why does your precious childhood sweetheart insist on eating something I made?"

Before Ethan could respond, Sophie spoke up softly.

"Irene, I heard from Agnes that you used to stay up late cooking all the time. Why is it suddenly not okay when I want some?"

The moment it was mentioned, Irene felt a tight, suffocating pressure in her chest.

In the first two years after the marriage, Ethan had thrown himself entirely into work, exhausting himself fighting his father's illegitimate sons for the family inheritance.

She had set aside everything else, cooking and taking care of him so he could have no worries at home.

Her homemade warm milk for easing hangovers had become famous among his circle of friends, something Ethan often brought up to show off his wife.

But those days were long gone.

With a faint, ironic smile, she glanced at Sophie, who was practically leaning into Ethan's arms.

"Didn't Agnes tell you that myocardial ischemia isn't suited for greasy food? Oh right, Agnes's son died from this exact condition, after all…"

"Irene!" Ethan cut her off sharply, his face livid.

"Irene, why would you curse me out of nowhere?" Sophie's eyes reddened, her lips trembling, looking utterly pitiful.

Irene instantly lost any desire to keep sparring with words. Looking at Sophie for even another second felt unpleasant.

Just as she was about to leave, Ethan suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"Apologize to Sophie. You know she's sick. How could you talk to her like that?"

Irene tried to pull free but realized Ethan was using all his strength. She wrenched herself away fiercely, her wrist already ringed with bruises.

"If she's sick, she should go see a doctor. And if saying sorry were enough to cure her…" Irene stared coldly at Ethan's ashen face. "Then what, she's supposed to beg me on the spot?"