My Husband Brought His Pregnant Mistress to My Clinic
Chapter 3
I turned my back on him and walked out of the exam room. Didn't look at him once.
Outside the operating room, Jack was pacing back and forth, visibly agitated.
I'd already changed into surgical scrubs, mask and cap on, ready to go in.
He called out to me.
I stopped.
He hesitated, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes：
“You……”
“You wouldn't sabotage anything on the operating table, would you?”
I could barely believe what I was hearing. It was almost laughable.
“You really think I'm that kind of person?”
“How would I know? You hate us right now. What if you use this to get back at her?”
“No. I'm not letting you operate on her alone.”
He turned to the director standing nearby：
“Director Lambert, I want a different doctor. Or at least add another doctor in there with her.”
Director Lambert frowned, barely containing his anger：
“Mr. Delgado, Dr. Pruitt is the best OB-GYN in this hospital. She's performed well over a hundred procedures like this without a single complication.”
“Her professional integrity is recognized by every person in this building. If you don't trust her, you're welcome to transfer to another hospital right now.”
He turned and walked away without another word.
Jack's face went white, then gray.
Of course he didn't dare transfer.
Lavinia's condition was already critical. Any more delay and she could die.
All he could do was clench his jaw and watch me walk through those doors.
The operating room doors closed slowly behind me, sealing off everything outside. I took a deep breath, picked up the scalpel.
In that moment, I wasn't Jack Delgado's wife. I was just a doctor.
The surgery took three hours.
When I stepped out, it was already three in the afternoon.
I hadn't had a sip of water since morning.
I pulled my mask down, and the world went black. My legs gave out and I hit the floor.
The last thing I heard before everything disappeared was Jack's voice, frantic：
“Viola, how's Lavinia? Is she okay?”
I couldn't give him any answer at all.
Each passing second chewed through what little patience Jack had left.
Just before he could explode, a nurse came out of the operating room.
She spotted me on the floor immediately and rushed over：
“Dr. Pruitt! Dr. Pruitt, what happened?”
She pulled a piece of candy from her pocket with practiced ease and slipped it into my mouth.
“Oh no, your blood sugar crashed again!”
“You've been working three days straight. Two surgeries last night, and then straight into this one today. Nobody's body can take that.”
Only then did Jack notice how pale I was.
He froze for a second, then frowned.
The nurse answered him flatly：
“Low blood sugar. She passed out.”
He scoffed：
“Whose fault is that but her own?”
“She's faking it. Collapsing right now on purpose so I'll feel guilty. This is her way of getting back at me.”
I'd barely caught my breath when I heard those words.
My heart went dead. Completely, finally dead.
I pushed the nurse's hand away and got to my feet, slowly.
“Lavinia is out of danger.”
“The nurses will take care of her from here. You can go see her now.”
I turned and walked away.
Didn't look at him once.
The next morning.
I'd just reached the door to Lavinia's room when I heard her voice drifting out—saccharine-sweet, dripping with helplessness：
“Jack, my stomach really hurts……”
“Do you think that doctor messed up the surgery?”
“I read a story online about a surgeon who left a scalpel inside a patient during a C-section. And another one who left gauze in there, and the patient got an infection and almost died.”
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