Chapter 1

My mother-in-law's brain was bleeding out, and my husband, Conrad, the city's top neurosurgeon, was the only one who could perform the surgery to save her.

In that desperate race against time, I called him over and over, my heart hammering against my ribs. But when the line finally connected, it wasn't his voice I heard. It was his obsession, Willow Vance.

"Oh, is that you, Natalie? Conrad is here celebrating my birthday. He accidentally spilled a drink and ruined his shirt, so he's in the shower right now. I'll tell him to call you back later, okay?"

I felt a surge of pure, white-hot rage. "Conrad's mother is dying! She's had a massive stroke. Tell him to get to the hospital this second!"

Suddenly, Conrad's voice cut through the line, a jagged roar of annoyance. "Natalie, for God's sake, enough! Why is it that every time I try to do something for Willow, you come up with some pathetic excuse to drag me away?"

The call went dead before I could speak. He didn't just hang up; he shut me out completely.

My mother-in-law died that night because the surgery happened too late.

But none of us realized that the person truly responsible for her death was the very woman Conrad cherished more than his own family.

1

"Natalie, your mother-in-law is in critical condition. Her aneurysm ruptured. Given her age and the severity of the hemorrhage, her pupils are already starting to dilate."

"The blood vessels are receding. Right now, there isn't a surgeon on staff who can handle a case this delicate."

"I know your husband, Dr. Conrad Sinclair, has been managing her care. He's the best neurosurgeon in the state. If he can get here right now, there might be one last shred of hope."

The doctor's heavy sigh felt like a lead weight crushing my chest. I stumbled back, my head spinning with a nauseating mix of fear and disbelief.

There was no time to hesitate. This nightmare had come out of nowhere.

Andy, Conrad's younger brother, was still ten minutes away. I was the only one here. I was the only one who could save her.

My fingers shook so violently I could barely unlock my phone. I dialed the number I knew by heart.

After what felt like an eternity of ringing, a woman's voice answered.

"Hello? Are you looking for Conrad?"

The sound of her voice was like a match to gasoline. I didn't hold back. "Who the hell is this? Why do you have my husband's phone?"

The woman on the other end seemed taken aback by my tone. After a calculated pause, she spoke in a soft, fragile voice. "Oh, you must be his wife. I'm Willow, an old friend of his."

"He's celebrating my birthday with me, and we were having such a good time that things got a little messy. He's in the shower cleaning up. If it's not an emergency, I can have him call you back."

Her voice was calm and steady, projecting a level of intimacy that made me feel like the intruder in my own marriage.

I knew exactly who she was. Willow Vance―the girl he grew up with, the one who got away.

Every time she snapped her fingers, Conrad would drop everything to run to her. It was the cancer that had been eating away at our marriage for years.

I forced myself to breathe, trying to sound controlled. "Willow, put Conrad on the phone. Now. It's a matter of life and death."

Before she could respond, I heard the phone being snatched away. Conrad's voice was full of venom as he jumped to her defense.

"Natalie, are you seriously doing this again? Every time I'm with Willow, you have a mental breakdown. What could possibly be so important?"

I ignored the insult. I didn't have the luxury of pride. "Conrad, your mom had a brain hemorrhage. She's on the table. You need to get here immediately."

Conrad's laugh was cold and bitter.

"You've really lost it, haven't you? Just because I'm spending a few hours for Willow's birthday, you're willing to curse my mother just to scare me? You're sick, Natalie."

I tried to explain, to read him the medical chart, but a loud crash echoed from his end of the line.

Then came the sound of Willow's muffled, theatrical sobbing.

Conrad's tone flipped instantly. The coldness he showed me turned into frantic concern for her. "Willow! Are you okay? Where are you hurt?"

He didn't have another second for me. He snarled into the phone. "Natalie, I saw Mom this morning. She was perfectly fine, sitting in her garden. You're lying just to force me home."

"I'm going to deal with you when I get back. Stay the hell away from my phone!"

The line went dead. I tried calling back, but it went straight to voicemail. He had turned it off.

I collapsed onto the hospital floor, the cold tile pressing against my skin as despair flooded my lungs.

He was the only one who could save her. And he chose the woman who was playing a part over the mother who gave him everything.