My Husband Gave the Hermès Bag with Mrs. Alden's Life-Saving Medication to His Old Flame

Mrs. Alden has a severe heart condition.

My husband gave my Hermès bag to his Old Flame, not knowing it contained Mrs. Alden's life-saving medicine.

His Old Flame lied about having stomach cancer, and my husband was heartbroken and distraught.

Not only did he wait on her hand and foot, but he also demanded that I take care of her eight-year-old son.

Later, Mrs. Alden had an attack at home with no medicine to take, collapsing into a coma.

And I, the only surgeon in the entire city who could perform this type of heart surgery, was at the Old Flame's house—

being attacked by her son with a kitchen cleaver, which had just slashed the tendons in my hand.

1

I had just finished tutoring eight-year-old Toby Young with his homework when I got the call from Cole Alden.

The boy was spoiled and headstrong. He wouldn't listen when I explained the problems, and if I criticized him even slightly, he would start screaming and throwing things.

It took a stunning five hours just to get through a few pages of his workbook.

I thought I could finally get some rest, but then my phone began to ring urgently.

Staring at the caller's name, I froze for a moment.

Ever since Roxanne Young showed up, my husband, Cole Alden, had rarely called me.

He would drive for miles to buy a bowl of crab roe congee and personally deliver it to her bedside.

But he couldn't be bothered to come home for dinner, even on our wedding anniversary.

He was attentive to her every little detail. If Roxanne Young so much as coughed, he would get up in the middle of the night to make her a homemade pear broth, following a recipe to the letter.

Yet he would forget my birthday, even though I'd mentioned it a month in advance.

He only used his phone to constantly check in on her, asking what she wanted to eat or if she was feeling comfortable.

Cole Alden said that Roxanne Young was a patient, and even as just a normal friend, he couldn't just leave her to fend for herself. He called it basic responsibility.

When I expressed my discontent, he accused me of being heartless, saying I was jealous of a sick person and was unfit to be a doctor.

Faced with the look of annoyance in his eyes, I was speechless.

'As a doctor, being jealous of a patient—'

'Even if she isn't my patient, it still sounds terrible.'

I could only swallow my feelings and stop complaining.

But his fervent "responsibility" for her made me feel like nothing more than his roommate.

He only contacted me when absolutely necessary, because "we'll see each other at home after work anyway."

Now, seeing the word "Husband" flashing on the caller ID, I was actually a little flattered.

Taking a deep breath, I answered the phone:

"Husband, I—"

But I wasn't cut off by a warm greeting, but by a furious interrogation:

"Miranda Rhodes! Have you even been paying attention while taking care of my mother?!"

"Wasn't she getting better? Why is her chest suddenly hurting?!"

My expression changed drastically when I heard Mrs. Alden's chest was hurting.

"Have Mom lie down, quickly! She's having an attack!"

Mrs. Alden suffered from a severe heart condition and had fainted and gone into shock multiple times before.

I had a friend abroad buy the most advanced miracle drug for her. After watching Mrs. Alden take it for a while, I had finally managed to stabilize her condition.

But due to recent unrest abroad, customs inspections for both entry and exit had become extremely strict.

The medicine was held up at customs, forcing Mrs. Alden to go without it for two days.

I had to pull a lot of strings, call in favors, and spend a good deal of money just to get a single bottle into the country.

I never imagined it would become Mrs. Alden's only lifeline at this very moment!

Cole Alden's anxious shouts blasted through the phone into my ear:

"You were the one taking care of Mom before! How is it that she has an attack just a few days after you leave?"

"I never should have trusted you in the first place! Now what are we going to do?!"

"I knew it, you female doctors are all unreliable—Miranda Rhodes, if anything happens to Mom, you can just wait for a divorce!!!"

I was about to speak but was stunned into silence by his yelling.

The older Mrs. Alden got, the more complications she had, and the more frequent her attacks became.

I'm a cardiac surgeon, so I voluntarily took on the responsibility of caring for Mrs. Alden after we got married.

Juggling a demanding job and caring for an elderly person wasn't easy, but Mrs. Alden was kind and gentle.

But attacks for heart disease patients are inherently unpredictable, especially for the elderly.