After My Husband Abandoned Our Wedding Vows

The restaurant reservation confirmation felt heavy in my purse as I drove through the winding roads toward downtown. Hunter had actually agreed to meet me tonight—no mentions of Violeta's emergencies, no sudden cancellations. For the first time in months, I felt a flutter of hope.

Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe tonight he would choose me first.

I took the curve too fast, my mind racing ahead to our dinner conversation. I'd prepared everything carefully—the restaurant he liked, a dress he'd once complimented, even rehearsed what I'd say about our relationship.

The car gave a strange lurch.

I frowned, pressing harder on the brake pedal. Nothing happened.

Panic surged through me as I pumped the pedal again. The pedal went straight to the floor with no resistance.

"No, no, no!"

The road ahead curved sharply to the right, a steep hill dropping away to my left. I yanked the emergency brake, but it barely slowed the car's descent. The speedometer crept higher as gravity pulled us down.

"Someone help!" I screamed, though there was no one to hear me on this deserted stretch of road.

The curve approached too quickly. I swung the wheel hard to the right, but without brakes, the car skidded sideways. There was a moment of terrible clarity as I saw the tree looming ahead, its bark rushing toward my windshield.

Then came the impact.

Metal crumpled. Glass shattered. Pain exploded through my body as I was thrown forward, then caught by the seatbelt. The airbag deployed with a violent burst of powder and force.

And then... darkness.

* * *

I woke to the sterile smell of hospital disinfectant and the steady beep of monitors. My body felt like one massive bruise, but the pain was distant, muffled by whatever drugs flowed through my IV.

"She's waking up," someone said—a nurse, I thought.

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry. A gentle hand helped me sip water through a straw.

"Jade," Hunter's voice came from beside me. "Thank God you're awake."

I turned my head slowly, wincing at the pain. Hunter sat in the chair beside my bed, his face drawn with what looked like concern. Behind him stood Violeta, her expression a perfect mask of worry.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"Your car went off the road," Hunter said, taking my hand. His palm was sweaty. "The police think your brakes failed."

Brakes failed. The words echoed strangely in my mind. My car was only two years old, regularly serviced.

"I need surgery," I managed to say. "The doctor said—"

"We've already arranged everything," Hunter interrupted, squeezing my hand too tightly. "Violeta is going to operate."

I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "What?"

"Violeta studied medicine abroad," Hunter explained, gesturing to her. "She's perfectly qualified."

Violeta stepped forward, her white coat crisp and pristine. "I specialized in trauma surgery in Switzerland," she said smoothly. "I can handle this procedure."

"That's impossible," I said, trying to sit up despite the pain. "You're not even a real doctor. You studied art history."

A male doctor I didn't recognize burst into the room, his face flushed with anger. "Mr. Armstrong, I must protest again. This is highly irregular and dangerous. Your wife needs qualified surgical intervention, not some amateur—"

"She's not an amateur," Hunter snapped. "And she's the only one I trust with my wife's life."

The doctor's face darkened. "With all due respect, sir, this woman has no medical license in this country. I cannot allow this in my hospital."

"You can't stop me," Hunter said coldly. "Not when I'm paying for a private room and private medical team."

I watched in horror as the argument escalated, my consciousness fading in and out. Why was Hunter insisting on this? Why would he risk my life?

Violeta leaned over me, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Don't worry, Jade. I'll take good care of you."

The last thing I saw before the anesthesia took hold was Hunter nodding to Violeta, their eyes meeting in silent understanding.

* * *

I woke again to searing pain and the sound of raised voices.

"—could have prevented this!" Dr. Sarah Mitchell's voice cut through my fog. "The damage to her reproductive system was entirely avoidable with proper surgical technique."

"Are you saying she can't have children?" Hunter's voice, hollow with shock.

"The internal damage was too severe," Dr. Mitchell said grimly. "A qualified surgeon could have saved her fertility. But with the unnecessary complications introduced during that... procedure..."

I lay perfectly still, tears sliding silently from beneath my closed eyelids. They thought I was still unconscious, but every word burned into my memory.

Violeta had known exactly what she was doing when she took that scalpel.

And Hunter had let her.