When The Doctor Falls to His Knees

I was diagnosed with acute pancreatitis.

But my husband, Julian Thorne, an ER doctor himself, ordered everyone at the hospital not to treat me.

In my past life, he had been gentle and caring. But after the woman he could never forget, Chloe Sinclair, committed suicide due to depression, he blamed it all on me.

On the night of my father's retirement party, he calmly orchestrated a gas leak, killing my entire family.

Then, he injected me with a lethal dose of potassium chloride. The cold sting of the needle piercing my skin is a sensation I'll never forget, even in death.

"How does it feel to have your heart stop, Ava?" he whispered, his voice laced with venom. "The despair Chloe felt when she died… it was a thousand times worse than this. If it weren't for you, she never would have reached that point. You drove her to it, so you and your entire family will pay with your lives!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn, back to the night of a charity gala where I’d made a complaint against him vanish by drinking myself into acute pancreatitis.

This time, he ran to Chloe without a second thought.

He thought he'd made the right choice. He had no idea that one day, he would be on his knees, begging me to take him back.

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1

A vicious, twisting pain in my stomach ripped me from my daze. Outside, a blizzard was swallowing the city.

I glanced at my phone and instantly realized I had been reborn. I was back on the night my excessive drinking had triggered acute pancreatitis.

An attack of acute pancreatitis isn't just hellish—it’s potentially fatal. I recognized the early symptoms instantly and called an Uber to the nearest New York-Presbyterian Bellevue Hospital. In the dead of night, only the lights of the emergency room (ER) were still glowing.

The doctor on duty looked up when he saw my name. He frowned as he sized me up. "Ava Monroe?"

The doctor who saw me was none other than my husband Julian Thorne's college roommate and colleague, Liam Foster.

I had no time for pleasantries. "Liam," I rasped, pressing a hand hard against my stomach. "I drank too much tonight. I think it's my pancreatitis acting up again. You need to admit me, now."

This would be my second bout of pancreatitis, so I knew getting admitted for IV fluids immediately was my only chance. But I never expected Liam to toss my ID card aside, his eyes filled with hostility. "I can't do that."

Stunned, I stared at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"Stop the act. Julian told me everything; there's nothing wrong with you." He didn't even bother to hide his contempt. "Since you're married to Julian, you should trust his professional judgment. Pulling stunts like this for attention is just pathetic."

He had to be mistaken. I fought through a wave of agony to explain, "Liam, I'm not faking. It's really my pancreatitis. Please, just run the tests."

His brow furrowed even deeper. "What do you think this hospital is? Our medical resources aren't for you to waste. Please leave immediately and don't take up a bed needed by a patient who genuinely requires help."

As we spoke, a line of five or six patients had already formed behind me. Hearing Liam's words, they all shot me accusatory looks.

"If you're faking an illness, don't come to the ER, for God's sake."

"What's with young people these days? She'd do something like this just to get her husband's attention?"

I realized Liam had no intention of treating me. So, amid a chorus of whispers, I struggled out of his examination room.

As I reached the door, Liam called out to me again. "Ava." His voice was cold. "You know about the conflict Julian had with a patient two days ago, right? Our department chief is transferring out. The attending physician spot is open, and Julian is determined to get it. If you really care about him, don't cause a scene and embarrass him here."

I was drenched in a cold sweat from the pain, without even the strength to argue. For a pancreatitis patient, any delay in treatment meant a sharp increase in risk.

I said nothing and left Liam's room. Liam was usually mild-tempered, but he always turned sharp and cruel around me. He was one of the many who believed I was a gold digger who'd broken up the perfect couple: Julian and Chloe Sinclair. He was convinced I had used underhanded tactics to steal Julian from her.