When My Groom Planned to Inherit My Fortune by Killing Me

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the picnic basket I'd carefully prepared that morning. Zane's favorite sandwich—turkey, avocado, and a hint of garlic mayo—along with those miniature blueberry muffins he couldn't resist. I adjusted the strap of my purse, feeling the familiar weight of my inhaler tucked inside. Just in case. Though today wasn't about my asthma; it was about surprising the man I loved.

Manhattan General Hospital buzzed with its usual controlled chaos as I navigated the sterile hallways. Nurses nodded politely as I passed, some recognizing me as Dr. Parker's fiancée. I'd always loved this place—the purposeful energy, the way lives changed in these rooms. Zane had been working extra shifts lately, stressed about his research fellowship. I wanted to remind him that someone cared.

"Just five more minutes with the patient files," he'd promised last night, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Then I'm all yours."

I'd let him sleep in this morning, deciding a surprise lunch would be better than waking him early. Now, approaching the private ward where he often took his breaks, I felt a flutter of anticipation. Would he be surprised? Would he smile that crooked smile that first made me fall for him?

The door to his private ward was slightly ajar. Perfect timing—he must be on break. I pushed it open with my hip, already forming the words of greeting.

"Zane, I thought you might be—"

The words died in my throat.

Time seemed to slow as my brain processed what my eyes were seeing. Zane—my Zane—had Katalina Cruz pressed against the wall, his mouth on hers, hands tangled in her dark hair. The intern I'd seen him mentoring just last week. The girl who'd called me "so lucky" to have such a dedicated doctor as a fiancé.

They broke apart at my entrance, but not quickly enough. Not guiltily enough.

"Victoria?" Zane's voice held surprise but not shame. Not even a hint of it.

The picnic basket slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The sandwiches I'd lovingly prepared scattered across the polished tiles.

"What is this?" My voice sounded small, even to my own ears.

Katalina straightened her scrubs, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Exactly what it looks like."

Something tightened in my chest—that familiar, terrifying sensation. No. Not now. I fumbled in my purse, fingers searching desperately for my inhaler.

"Wait, Victoria—" Zane stepped toward me, but I backed away.

"Don't." The word came out as a gasp. My lungs were already beginning to spasm, the familiar panic rising. "Just... don't."

I found my inhaler, clutching it like a lifeline. One puff. That's all I needed. But as I raised it to my lips, Zane moved with surprising speed, plucking it from my grasp.

"Zane!" I wheezed, reaching for it. "Give it back!"

He examined the inhaler with clinical detachment before pocketing it in his lab coat. "You know, I've always wondered about these things. The delivery mechanism is quite fascinating."

From his other pocket, he produced a small tin of breath mints, placing them in my palm with mock gentleness. "Here. These might help more than that overprescribed medication."

The room tilted. Without my inhaler, each breath became a struggle. I sank to my knees, the mints scattering across the floor as I tried to steady myself.

"Zane," I gasped, "our engagement... it's over. Give me my inhaler."

He crouched before me, his face inches from mine. Those blue eyes I'd once thought so kind now looked cold, calculating.

"No, Victoria. It's not over." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You see, I've invested too much in us to walk away now."

Katalina laughed—actually laughed—as she circled behind me. "God, Zane was right about you. So dramatic."

I tried to reach for my purse where my backup medication was kept, but Katalina's foot shot out, kicking it across the room. The small vials of emergency medication skidded across the polished floor, well beyond my reach.

"Oops," she said, not bothering to hide her smirk. "Better watch where you leave your things."

Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as my airways constricted further. Each breath became a desperate fight.

"Please," I whispered, looking up at Zane through tears. "I need... to breathe."

He studied me with detached curiosity, as if observing a particularly interesting lab specimen. "Fascinating response. The respiratory distress is quite pronounced."

Katalina knelt beside me, her voice honey-sweet with malice. "You know, Zane always said you smelled like a stuffy old lady. All those medications you take." She plucked at my simple blouse with distaste. "No wonder he prefers me."