My Husband Faked a Heart Condition to Get Rid of Me

Ronan smiled, the tension in his face finally easing.

"Don’t worry. He’s saved."

My heart clenched, a mix of relief and unease washing over me.

"Which ward?" I asked, my voice steady but strained.

"307," he replied.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned and headed toward the ward.

Inside, Leander was propped up against the pillows, his complexion pale and fragile. My parents-in-law hovered over him, carefully helping him sip water. Evangeline stood close by, her voice gentle as she peppered him with questions about his recovery. Even though the hospital director was present, his expression was a mix of pride and approval as he addressed the room.

"I didn’t realize our hospital had such talent in cardiac surgery," he said, looking at Evangeline. "Dr. Drake, you’ve proven yourself to be truly exceptional."

Leander’s gaze shifted to me as I entered. His expression froze briefly, but he forced a weak smile, tilting his lips upward.

"Vivienne, you’re here," he said, his voice barely audible.

The hospital director’s eyes followed his, landing on me. His expression hardened, and his tone turned icy.

"So, you’ve finally decided to show up," he said, each word sharp as a scalpel. "Vivienne, I never expected you to be so rigid—so heartless. I understand you’re on leave due to depression, and I respected that by pulling you from the surgical roster. But shouldn’t there be exceptions in emergencies?"

He stepped closer, his voice rising, each sentence cutting deeper.

"Don’t tell me Leander is your husband. Even if he were just another patient, when you’re the only one qualified to perform the operation, isn’t it your duty to step in? What were you afraid of? Repercussions? Failure due to your condition? Those fears are valid, but they don’t excuse standing idly by while someone’s life hangs in the balance. This is not just a lapse in judgment—it’s a failure of morality."

He paused, letting his words sink in before delivering the final blow.

"I’m deeply disappointed in you, Dr. Hayes. With this behavior, you’ve proven yourself unfit to practice medicine here. Effective immediately, you are dismissed from your duties. You are no longer a part of this hospital."

His tone was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

Outside the ward, the murmurs of onlookers grew louder, their disdain cutting through the air like knives.

"Isn’t that the infamous Dr. Vivienne Hayes?" someone whispered loudly. "The one who let her own husband nearly die?"

"Yeah, I heard she was just sitting there doing her makeup while he was dying. A monster in a doctor’s coat," another voice sneered.

"If I were that man, I’d have divorced her long ago. Honestly, I might’ve strangled her myself!" one voice sneered, dripping with contempt.

The crowd’s accusations and insults swirled around me like a storm, but I paid them no mind. My gaze remained fixed on Leander.

To my surprise, Leander didn’t lash out. Instead, he spoke softly, his tone laced with a mix of understanding and sorrow.

"Vivienne, I know you’re struggling with depression, and that’s why you couldn’t operate. I don’t blame you."

He paused, his expression growing heavier, then continued with a pained sigh.

"But what I can’t understand is this—when I was on the brink of death, I heard you were trying to take my property from my parents. Don’t you care about my life at all? I’m your husband!"

His words hung in the air, stirring the crowd’s ire. They erupted with renewed fervor, their judgment ringing loud and clear.

"This poor man! Such a saint, married to a heartless monster!"

"She didn’t save his life, and now she’s after his money? What kind of person does that?"

"She doesn’t deserve to be called a doctor, let alone a wife!"

I glanced at the seething onlookers, their faces twisted in righteous indignation. Then, I turned back to Leander, my expression calm but my heart burning with contempt.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, echoing through the room.

"Dear husband," I began, my voice dripping with mockery, "what an impressive performance you’ve put on."

I stepped closer, holding his gaze. "But don’t you think it’s time to drop the act? This little show of yours—shouldn’t it be over now?"