The Moment I Broke Off the Engagement, My Ex's Uncle Claimed Me

My grandmother died in a car accident. Ethan Griffin forced me to operate on his mistress, Tessa Langley's dog.

At the family banquet, he looked down on me like a king. "Kneel and apologize to Tessa," Ethan said coldly. "Then I might forgive you."

I, Nina Sterling, said nothing. In front of everyone, I lit the engagement contract and dropped the burning paper into a champagne glass, watching it curl into ashes.

Then I turned and walked toward the man sitting in the corner in a wheelchair, Adrian Griffin, the one the Griffin family treated like their greatest disgrace.

"Adrian," I said, bending slightly to meet his eyes. "Do you have the guts to gamble on this with me?"

Ethan exploded in rage and lunged toward me.

With a sharp click, the lighter in Adrian's hand snapped shut. He caught Ethan's wrist in a firm grip.

Adrian lifted those dark, brooding eyes and spoke to Ethan in a voice that cut through the room.

"Watch your manners. She's my wife."

......

Three floors beneath the funeral home, the temperature was kept at minus five degrees.

The air was thick with the stale, biting smell of formalin. Strong enough to drown out the salty taste of tears.

I stood in front of Autopsy Table No. 1, wearing two layers of latex gloves.

The cold surgical light shone down in a harsh white beam over the shattered face before me.

It was my grandmother, Rose Sterling.

The crash had been sudden. Her left orbital bone was shattered, and half her face had collapsed inward.

I was a surgeon. I had also trained in postmortem reconstruction.

I requested permission to restore her body myself. Maybe it was the sight of my swollen, bloodshot eyes. They agreed.

This final journey… I had to see her through it myself.

I held a curved silver suture needle between my fingers, my hands perfectly steady.

The needle pierced the cold, stiff skin with a soft, wet sound.

At that moment, the phone resting on the stainless-steel instrument tray began to vibrate.

My hands were dirty, so I had set the phone to answer automatically.

The explosion ripped through the silent morgue, the echo slamming against the walls.

I didn't look up. My gaze remained fixed on the wound at the corner of my grandmother's eye.

On the phone screen, the night sky over Aurora Harbor exploded with fireworks. Crimson, gold, green. A dazzling storm of color.

Thunderous cheers mixed with the roar of the sea. It was the world of the living.

"Nina." Ethan's voice came through the noise of the crowd, dripping with lazy arrogance. "Everyone's waiting for your toast. Where did you disappear to? Don't play hard to get. It's boring."

My hands didn't stop.

The silver needle carried the clear thread through flesh and skin. I tied the knot.

My grandmother's jaw was broken. Her lips wouldn't close properly, as if she still had something left unsaid.

"I'm stitching a body," I said quietly.

My throat felt like I had swallowed a handful of sand. My voice came out rough and hoarse.

There was a second of silence on the other end. Then a bright, playful laugh.

The camera shifted, and a carefully made-up face slipped into view, leaning against Ethan's shoulder.

"You're so funny, Nina," Tessa said with a hand over her mouth, her eyes curved like crescents. "It's New Year's. Talking about corpses is creepy."

Ethan frowned, a trace of disgust flashing in his eyes.

"To make me come back, you're even cursing your own grandmother?" He let out a mocking laugh and swirled the red wine in his glass. "Nina, you're getting more pathetic by the day. Get over here now. Tessa can't drink. You'll take the drinks for her."

Finally, my hands stopped.

Under the cold light, my grandmother's ashen face looked painfully bleak.

I looked at that familiar face, wanting to smooth the crease between her brows one last time. But my fingers were covered in blood.

"Ethan." I spoke his name into the air. "My grandmother is dead."

"Enough!" Ethan snapped impatiently. "You have thirty minutes to show up. Otherwise the wedding is off."

The call ended.

The screen went dark like a blind eye, reflecting my expressionless face.

The morgue fell silent again, except for the dull hum of the ventilation fan.

I lowered my head and picked up the sharp surgical scissors.

The suture thread was cut.

In that moment, something inside my chest snapped along with it.

Seven years of humiliating devotion to him. Gone with that single cut.

I pulled off the blood-stained gloves and tossed them into the yellow medical waste bin.