My mother fell critically ill and was rushed to the hospital. Desperate, I knelt before my fiancé—the department's chief surgeon—and begged him to take charge of her operation.

But outside the ICU, he was carefully tending to a scraped knee. Lucy Wendell's scraped knee, to be exact.

Just as I was drowning in hopelessness, Cameron Mitchell—the hospital director and my childhood friend—pushed open the operating room doors and handed me a marriage proposal.

"Marry me, and I'll personally perform your mother's surgery."

With trembling hands, I signed my name, clinging to the last shred of hope that she could be saved.

But she never made it through that stormy night.

Cameron handled all the funeral arrangements himself, and our wedding proceeded as scheduled.

Seven years later, in the hushed silence of the hospital archives, I overheard Cameron speaking with the deputy director.

"Cameron, why did you transfer your mother-in-law's organ to Lucy's mother during that surgery? Weren't you afraid of getting caught?"

"I owed Lucy," he replied. "If I hadn't hesitated back then, Lucy never would've chosen medical aid work in Africa… and her mother wouldn't have fallen ill from the grief."

"All these years, I stayed by Marianne's side… only to atone for my sins."

Cameron Mitchell's voice was as warm and gentle as ever, yet his words sent a chill through my entire body.

So what I'd mistaken for redemption… was nothing but charity.

In his heart, there had only ever been one woman—Lucy Wendell.

Fine. I would step aside and give them my blessing.

…

The archive room door stood slightly ajar. Cameron's voice drifted out, thick with remorse.

"I had no choice. I already hurt Lucy once—I couldn't let anything happen to her mother, too. As for Marianne… I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her."

The deputy director's voice dropped, but the anger beneath was unmistakable.

"But that surgery seven years ago—you could've saved them both! You ripped out Marianne's mother's kidney just to give it to Lucy's mom! If this gets out, you won't just lose your license—you'll go to prison! All for a woman who never loved you back. Was it worth it?"

Not even a second of hesitation.

Cameron's reply struck like lightning through my chest. "Worth it."

His words exploded in my skull, leaving a deafening roar in their wake.

"Then keep this buried. Don't let her find out. Don't forget—Marianne's been a journalist for years. You ruined yourself over Lucy… but have you ever stopped to think? You destroyed Marianne, too."

"Let her find out if she wants. If it comes to that, I'll take the fall. At least I've saved enough to ensure she'll live a rich life."

His tone was disturbingly calm, as if discussing the forecast.

"Cameron, I just don't get you. Whatever—there's no reasoning with you…"

Their voices faded.

Footsteps approached—the sharp click of leather shoes against tile.

Panicked, I turned to leave—but my skirt snagged on the shelf.

The scalding coffee in my hand sloshed over my white dress, seeping through the fabric and burning my skin.

The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the raw, jagged hole splitting open in my chest.

So this was my marriage. Built on lies and sacrifice.

My mother hadn't died from some tragic complication. She'd been murdered—sacrificed for my husband's precious first love.

Seven years ago, my ex-fiancé Nicholas Martin's betrayal made me the laughingstock of the city.

And Cameron's proposal? It had been bought with my mother's life.

Every tender word, every gentle touch—none of it had been love. Just guilt. Atonement.

Now, it all made sense.

Why the hospital's best ward was always reserved for Lucy's charity cases. Why he personally escorted her whenever she visited. Even our wedding rings were custom-designed in her favorite style.

I was the fool. Parading around in this hollow marriage, flaunting a love that was never real. Just another one of Cameron's pity projects.

Did Lucy laugh every time she saw me?

Did she struggle to keep a straight face, watching me play the oblivious clown?

The archive room door clicked shut behind me. The deputy director's footsteps dissolved into the hospital's white noise.

At the hallway's end, Cameron stood watching me with that familiar, indulgent gaze—the one that used to make my heart flutter.

"What are you doing here?" His brow furrowed as he noticed my stained dress. "And why are you all wet?"

I steadied my voice. "Just spilled my coffee. I was heading to change."

His fingers brushed the damp fabric. "You've burned yourself." A sigh. "My clumsy girl. When you hurt, I hurt too."

Then he kissed me.

The scent of alcohol clung to his breath. Just like every kiss before—lingering, tender, affectionate. But this time, I couldn't breathe.

Love could be faked. Tenderness and concern could be performed—even for someone you didn't love—if it meant protecting the one you truly did.

Tears welled in my eyes. I turned my head away, and they spilled silently down my cheeks.

I followed him to his private lounge. Under the influence of alcohol, he quickly fell asleep.

I sat by the bed, my hands trembling as I unlocked his phone.

Seven years of marriage, and this was the first time I'd ever looked through it.

The password was a string of numbers—Lucy's birthday.

The phone displayed years' worth of partnership documents from the medical group. At a glance, they seemed routine. But a closer look revealed the truth: every single contract was tied to Lucy's charity foundation.

He had sacrificed far more profitable ventures to support her medical aid projects.

Every initiative was based in a small African town, where she had once lived.

Even the project funding amounts were veiled tributes:

Her birthday.

The day she performed her first surgery.

The date she founded her clinic in Africa.

My fingers trembled as I opened his private photo album.

There were a thousand photos, all of Lucy.

Snapshots of her at medical conferences. Candids from hospital rounds. Pictures from charity galas she attended with Nicholas.

In each one, Nicholas's figure had been carefully cropped out, leaving only her smiling presence.

Beyond that were countless procurement orders for medical equipment and supplies.

The latest machines. The rarest medications. All sent to her clinic under the guise of humanitarian aid.

His love for her was hidden in every detail.

And as I stared at it all, a tightness wrapped around my chest.

It was all a lie. Everything I'd believed—all of it—had been a carefully crafted illusion. Cameron's love had never belonged to me.

I let out a bitter laugh and powered off his phone.

Then I booked a one-way ticket to Northern Europe—three days from now.

I also filled out an application to cancel my legal identification records.

Seven years of marriage. If I was going to end it, I'd end it clean.

When it was all done, I felt a weight lift from my chest.

But just then, my phone buzzed with a notification.

A moment later, Cameron's voice echoed from behind me.

"Marianne, what are you canceling? The system just sent me a security alert."

Suppressing the panic clawing at my chest, I forced a smile. "My passport expired. I'm just renewing it. Aren't you heading abroad soon for that medical conference? You have meetings tomorrow, right? You should get some rest."

He wrapped an arm around my waist, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

"You even remember my schedule… You really are the most thoughtful wife."

Then he turned over and mumbled, "Tomorrow night, I'll take you somewhere special. I have a surprise for you."

"All right," I said softly. "I can't wait."

We didn't get home until late that night.

The next morning, his personal assistant arrived, pushing in a breakfast cart.

Every morning, the head chef would prepare meals tailored to my preferences.

I used to think it was the sweetest gesture. But now… I saw it for what it was. A performance.

If he truly cared, how was it that not once—not even once—did he ever cook me even the simplest bowl of anything himself?

Cameron had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep me from interfering with Lucy's medical aid work.

The delicate breakfast spread before me turned my stomach. Without touching a bite, I pushed the tray aside and walked out.

The law office was nearly empty. Within minutes, I held two copies of our divorce agreement.

At the medical group's headquarters, nurses' whispers followed me:

"Isn't that Dr. Mitchell's wife? That Van Cleef & Arpels necklace—he had it custom-made in Paris! I could never afford that in three lifetimes!"

"Dr. Mitchell's so successful, yet completely devoted to her. A real Prince Charming..."

On the top floor, I paused outside the office door. Cameron's gentle voice carried through. "How has he been treating you?"

"Wonderfully," Lucy replied. "Just a few days ago, he agreed to donate the latest medical equipment to the African clinic. We've been married seven years, and he's still so thoughtful…"

His voice dropped noticeably. "That's good… I've always worried about you."

"You've just donated even more equipment to the clinic," she said with a soft laugh. "If Marianne finds out, she won't be pleased."

Lucy was always so sweet, so understanding. But if she truly cared about my feelings, why bring me up at all? Especially when she'd already taken everything from me.

Seven years ago in that hospital room, she'd declared without shame that Nicholas never loved me—that his heart had always been hers. The shock sent my mother into relapse, necessitating emergency surgery that night.

A flurry of footsteps jolted me from the memory.

Cameron's assistant brushed past me and pushed open the door to the meeting room.

Cameron's gaze shot toward me, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes.

"Marianne? What are you doing here? We're just discussing the aid program for the African clinic. Lucy is the project lead…"

"Long time no see, Marianne," Lucy said as she stood with practiced grace. The embroidery on her new-season dress shimmered in the sunlight.

It was the same dress I'd once asked Cameron to buy for me.

And yet, there it was—on her.

I gave a polite nod. "I was just passing by and thought I'd say hello. Since you're busy with work, I won't keep you."

Cameron rushed out after me, words tumbling over each other in a flurry of explanations.

There was panic in his voice, anxiety in his eyes.

But I felt only exhaustion.

He'd gone to such lengths just to stay close to Lucy. And now, with his dream girl standing right there, he still had the audacity to play the part of a devoted husband?

"It's fine. Go back to work," I said with a smile. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'll just wait for you at home."

He visibly relaxed. After murmuring a few perfunctory reassurances, he turned and hurried back into the office.

Watching his retreating figure, I couldn't help but recall how attentive he used to be when we first got together.

Back then, he would panic over the smallest things that affected me. He told me I could live freely, however I pleased.

And like a fool, I believed him. So I gave up a promotion I'd worked years for—earned from the front lines as a journalist.

Meanwhile, Lucy now held the title of Asia Director for an international medical aid organization.

Time had passed, and the gap between us had become an unbridgeable chasm.

Was this your plan, Cameron? To ensure I'd never catch up, never measure up to your flawless first love?

Back home, I gathered every luxury item he'd ever given me over the past seven years.

One by one, I packed them into cardboard boxes. Then I shipped them all to a luxury resale boutique.

Love, I could live without. But not money.

I would use this money to help people who truly needed it.

As I watched the packages being loaded onto the courier truck, I finally turned away.

And then, a voice cut through the silence behind me.

"All these years, and you're still so useless. You couldn't even save your mother, and now your husband doesn't even respect you."