She Abandoned Her Future for My Husband, I Shattered Hers

Meeting the calculating, triumphant look in his eyes, I tore off my Chief Physician badge and hurled it at him.

The pin grazed his cheek, drawing a line of blood. Natalie rushed forward to shield him.

“You’ve gone mad, Claire Dawson! Richard is the dean—how dare you?”

Realizing she’d overstepped, she pulled back awkwardly, standing aside in confusion.

“Whether I dare or not, it’s not for a mistress like you to judge.”

“Natalie was only worried for me. Dr. Dawson, mind your manners. Security, escort her back to her office.”

Breaking free of the guards, I glared coldly at Richard.

“You want to destroy me for your mistress? You’re not worthy.”

Richard acted quickly. All my consultations and surgeries were suspended.

On the hospital’s official website, the investigation report pinned every bit of blame on me.

At the press conference, Natalie, as a supposed bystander, slipped and accidentally revealed my home address.

Surveillance footage showed yellow-and-white funeral wreaths and blood-red curses plastered across my walls.

The reporters Richard had arranged surrounded my house, blocking it completely.

Everyone was desperate to drag me down.

The crowd at my doorstep grew larger, livestream viewers had already surpassed a million.

When I pressed play, the giant LED screen lit up,

broadcasting videos of Richard and Natalie together—in the Dean’s Office, in the On-call Room, even in hospital beds.

“What the hell, what a scandal! Isn’t that Dean Carter? And the woman—why’s her face masked?”

Even the journalists Richard had sent to feed off my misery looked stunned,

but instinct and professionalism drove their fingers to snap photos.

Click after click. Soon, Richard’s name shot to the top of the trending list.

“Breaking! The shining beacon of medicine Richard Carter caught in explicit video scandal!”

“Masked Queen hooks wealthy dean—sources claim over a hundred women involved.”

“Medical world shaken—prestigious private hospital tainted by scandal.”

As the posts exploded, Richard moved quickly.

Within fifteen minutes, both the reporters at my door and the online posts had vanished.

That night, Richard—who hadn’t stepped foot home in half a year—stormed into my bedroom.

“Claire Dawson, you’ve lost your mind! Where did you get that stuff?”

“You’ve broken the law—believe it or not, I could have you arrested.”

Adjusting the folds of my face mask, I studied his furious reflection in the mirror.

“Arrest me? You wouldn’t dare.” I replied flatly to his threat.

“Claire, must you make this so public? You know Natalie can’t have children. She poses no threat to your position as Mrs. Carter. All she wants is a little love. Do you really have to humiliate her?”

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping away tears I couldn’t control.

Humiliate her? She seduced my husband. She framed me.

And I’m the one who must bear society’s moral condemnation?

“Richard, stop acting sanctimonious—it disgusts me.”

He knew me well enough to understand: once I start something, I don’t stop.

Sighing, he rubbed his temples, as if making a great concession.

“Claire, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Just admit publicly that the masked woman in the video was you.”

“After all, we’re married. At most, you’ll face some insults. But Natalie—if people find out, they’ll destroy her.”

His resolute words left me utterly desolate.

I tore off the mask and washed my face, staring into Richard’s eyes, searching desperately for a flicker of compassion for me.