I was diagnosed with acute pancreatitis.

But my husband, Julian Thorne, an ER doctor himself, ordered everyone at the hospital not to treat me.

In my past life, he had been gentle and caring. But after the woman he could never forget, Chloe Sinclair, committed suicide due to depression, he blamed it all on me.

On the night of my father's retirement party, he calmly orchestrated a gas leak, killing my entire family.

Then, he injected me with a lethal dose of potassium chloride. The cold sting of the needle piercing my skin is a sensation I'll never forget, even in death.

"How does it feel to have your heart stop, Ava?" he whispered, his voice laced with venom. "The despair Chloe felt when she died… it was a thousand times worse than this. If it weren't for you, she never would have reached that point. You drove her to it, so you and your entire family will pay with your lives!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn, back to the night of a charity gala where I’d made a complaint against him vanish by drinking myself into acute pancreatitis.

This time, he ran to Chloe without a second thought.

He thought he'd made the right choice. He had no idea that one day, he would be on his knees, begging me to take him back.

————————

1

A vicious, twisting pain in my stomach ripped me from my daze. Outside, a blizzard was swallowing the city.

I glanced at my phone and instantly realized I had been reborn. I was back on the night my excessive drinking had triggered acute pancreatitis.

An attack of acute pancreatitis isn't just hellish—it’s potentially fatal. I recognized the early symptoms instantly and called an Uber to the nearest New York-Presbyterian Bellevue Hospital. In the dead of night, only the lights of the emergency room (ER) were still glowing.

The doctor on duty looked up when he saw my name. He frowned as he sized me up. "Ava Monroe?"

The doctor who saw me was none other than my husband Julian Thorne's college roommate and colleague, Liam Foster.

I had no time for pleasantries. "Liam," I rasped, pressing a hand hard against my stomach. "I drank too much tonight. I think it's my pancreatitis acting up again. You need to admit me, now."

This would be my second bout of pancreatitis, so I knew getting admitted for IV fluids immediately was my only chance. But I never expected Liam to toss my ID card aside, his eyes filled with hostility. "I can't do that."

Stunned, I stared at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"Stop the act. Julian told me everything; there's nothing wrong with you." He didn't even bother to hide his contempt. "Since you're married to Julian, you should trust his professional judgment. Pulling stunts like this for attention is just pathetic."

He had to be mistaken. I fought through a wave of agony to explain, "Liam, I'm not faking. It's really my pancreatitis. Please, just run the tests."

His brow furrowed even deeper. "What do you think this hospital is? Our medical resources aren't for you to waste. Please leave immediately and don't take up a bed needed by a patient who genuinely requires help."

As we spoke, a line of five or six patients had already formed behind me. Hearing Liam's words, they all shot me accusatory looks.

"If you're faking an illness, don't come to the ER, for God's sake."

"What's with young people these days? She'd do something like this just to get her husband's attention?"

I realized Liam had no intention of treating me. So, amid a chorus of whispers, I struggled out of his examination room.

As I reached the door, Liam called out to me again. "Ava." His voice was cold. "You know about the conflict Julian had with a patient two days ago, right? Our department chief is transferring out. The attending physician spot is open, and Julian is determined to get it. If you really care about him, don't cause a scene and embarrass him here."

I was drenched in a cold sweat from the pain, without even the strength to argue. For a pancreatitis patient, any delay in treatment meant a sharp increase in risk.

I said nothing and left Liam's room. Liam was usually mild-tempered, but he always turned sharp and cruel around me. He was one of the many who believed I was a gold digger who'd broken up the perfect couple: Julian and Chloe Sinclair. He was convinced I had used underhanded tactics to steal Julian from her.

After leaving the ER, another spasm seized my stomach, feeling like someone was twisting a white-hot poker in my guts.

In my last life, I had developed pancreatitis around this same time. Back then, I had called Julian, who was on duty, and he immediately dropped his work and drove home to take me to the hospital.

But then, Chloe—the woman he'd never gotten over—committed suicide during a depressive episode.

Later, Julian learned that Chloe had used her connection with the hospital director to protect him and save him from disciplinary action. Sure enough, the hospital dropped all disciplinary action against Julian the next day.

Chloe had loved Julian madly, and she was still murmuring his name as she died.

The day Chloe died, Julian locked himself in his study and smoked two packs of cigarettes. However, when he came out, he seemed no different than usual, laughing and talking with me as always. He drove me to and from work and prepared dinner for me just like before.

His disguise led me to mistakenly believe he had moved on, that he had finally realized grieving excessively for an ex-girlfriend was disrespectful to his wife.

It wasn't until the night of my father's retirement party that Julian offered to barbecue for everyone. But he calmly orchestrated a gas leak. He tied me to a chair, pierced my vein with a cold needle, and slowly injected a lethal dose of potassium chloride. "Spare them? And what would that do? Would that bring Chloe back?" he snarled. "Ava, you deserve this! Why did you have to cling to me that night? Were you just waiting for her to die?"

I wanted to argue. I wasn't a god; I couldn't have foreseen that Chloe would kill herself. I was dead drunk that night because I wanted to help Julian. The person who had filed the complaint against him was the New York billionaire Garrett Sterling, one of the hospital's main donors.

It was a critical time for his promotion to attending physician, and this complaint was enough to derail his entire career. I felt guilty, so at the charity gala, I had taken the initiative to approach Mr. Sterling and drank with him until he finally agreed to withdraw the complaint.

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to tell Julian the truth, but he had completely lost his mind and wouldn't listen.

He roared as he sliced my lips with a scalpel, "It's all because of this mouth! If it weren't for you, Chloe wouldn't have died! It's your parents' fault for raising such a selfish woman. Your whole family can be buried with her!"

My entire body trembled from the excruciating pain as tears mixed with blood, stinging the cuts on my lips. After he was done torturing me, Julian tossed the scalpel aside and opened the gas valve, a single match held between his fingers.

"Chloe, I'm coming for you."

It was only when I saw the deep affection in his eyes, an affection never meant for me, that I felt like a complete and utter fool. It was while drinking with Mr. Sterling that I had learned the reason for Julian's conflict with that patient. The patient had cursed at Chloe for her bad attitude. When Julian found out, he rushed over and punched the man without a second thought.

A vicious spasm ripped me from my memories, and I fought to stand up straight. I knew I was running out of time and couldn't delay any longer.

It took a great deal of effort to get to the entrance, intending to go to a different hospital. But the blizzard had choked the roads, the swirling snow threatening to swallow the entire city.

I waited, staring at my phone for over ten minutes, but couldn't find a single available car. I could only endure the pain and walk back to the nurse's station, hoping to ask if there were any other doctors on duty.

When the nurse saw me, the smile on her face vanished instantly. She waved her hand to shoo me away. "Our doctors are all very busy."

"But I saw two examination rooms with no patients—"

The nurse shot me a warning look, and the rest of my words got stuck in my throat. Finally, I could only beg her, "I'm in unbearable pain. If there are no doctors in the ER, could you please help me find a doctor from another department?"

"No." The nurse waved her hand at me impatiently. "Stop faking it. Dr. Thorne already gave the order. No one is going to help you."

From Liam's attitude, I guessed that Julian had also been reborn. I hadn't thought of contacting him for help, but I couldn't believe he would go to such lengths to stop his colleagues from treating me.

Julian was a brilliant doctor, the most prized protégé of the ER chief. If it hadn't been for that fight to defend Chloe, he would have been appointed the next attending physician without a doubt.

The pain grew more intense, forcing me to double over as I shuffled painfully toward the door. After just a few steps, I overheard two nurses mocking me.

"Is that Dr. Thorne's gold digger wife? She looks so plain."

"Yeah, nothing special. I heard she drugged Dr. Thorne and got pregnant to force the marriage."

"But her acting skills are top-notch. Look at her, she looks exactly like a patient with pancreatitis."

It wasn't until I overheard their undisguised gossip that I realized how terrible my reputation at the hospital had become.

I had met Julian during an interior design project; he was already a doctor at New York-Presbyterian Bellevue Hospital.

When we met, Julian and Chloe had already broken up. I didn't understand why everyone at the hospital called me a gold digger, but I had no time to think about it.

Acute pancreatitis progresses extremely quickly. I was going to die here if I didn't get help soon.

I struggled to sit down. The pain made me tremble from head to toe. I was bent over, unable to straighten up anymore, a deep ache spreading across my back.

A chilling thought sliced through the pain: Am I really going to die here?

Just then, a middle-aged woman noticed my distress. She gently patted my shoulder. "Young lady, are you alright?"

When I looked up, my paper-white face clearly frightened her. She stumbled back a few steps in alarm. At that moment, my body went completely limp. I slid from the seat and collapsed helplessly onto the floor.

The woman screamed in terror, "Oh, my God! Someone call a doctor! There's an emergency here!"

Her scream attracted Julian and Chloe, who had just walked into the hospital carrying coffee and snacks. Assuming a medical emergency, they hurried over.

Julian stopped in his tracks when he saw my face. He waved the crowd of onlookers away. Looking down, he asked me coldly, "Ava, are you done making a scene?"

I looked up and saw the look of relief on his face. Just as I expected, Julian had gone to save Chloe. She stood beside him with a shy, dependent expression, the faint marks of a failed suicide attempt still visible on her arm. The air between them crackled with the energy of their reunion.

It made sense. Chloe had never truly gotten over Julian. Now that he had saved her from the brink of death, that act alone was enough to bring them back together.

I wanted to laugh in his face, but survival meant swallowing my pride. I reached out, grabbing the cuff of his expensive, custom-tailored suit. "Julian, my stomach hurts so badly, and my back hurts too. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Please, admit me."

I thought Julian would agree, as he knew better than anyone that I really had pancreatitis. To my disappointment, he just let out a cold laugh. "Ava, it seems you've put a lot of effort into memorizing the symptoms to make your act convincing. Unfortunately, textbook-perfect cases don't exist in the real world."

I was in disbelief. "You think I'm faking?"

"Even if you're not, it's probably just alcohol poisoning. Not that serious." He looked utterly indifferent. "Ava, what we doctors hate most are patients who knowingly harm themselves. Take this as a lesson and learn to take care of your body. But don't worry, I won't let you die."

Hearing his words, my heart sank. I wanted to scream that I was truly sick.

I tried to stand up to seek help from someone else, but the intense pain had drained all my strength. I lay gasping on the cold floor, helpless.

The pain spread from my stomach to my heart, then seeped into every nerve. I felt like I was being torn apart, inch by inch.

Julian was about to leave with Chloe, but my writhing on the floor seemed to stir something in him. He turned around and was about to walk toward me when Chloe suddenly let out a terrified scream and practically collapsed into his arms.

"What's wrong, Chloe?" His face was instantly filled with alarm. The profound concern he showed for her was something I had never received.

"I... I can't seem to catch my breath. Julian, can you take me home?"

Of course, he agreed. He carefully supported the woman nestled in his arms.

Soon, they changed out of their uniforms and left the hospital hand in hand. The sight of their tightly clasped fingers was more heartbreaking than the agonizing pain of pancreatitis.

Before leaving, Chloe glanced back, flashing me a triumphant smile.

My consciousness began to fade, and my vision blurred.

Liam walked over. "Oh, still acting? They've already left, you know."

I didn't even have the strength to look at him. In my extreme exhaustion, I tasted a thick, metallic tang in my mouth. Before Liam's stunned eyes, I suddenly coughed up a large mouthful of blood.