Chapter 1

1.

From the gap in the passenger seat of my husband Vincent's Audi Q7, I pulled out a limited-edition Funko Pop keychain.

A glow-in-the-dark Eleven―the same one his department intern, Sloane, had hanging from her backpack every day.

Vincent glanced over, casually saying, "The surgery was completed too late last night, and I took two interns home along the way. It might have been dropped by someone."

I tossed the keychain into the center console storage, not even looking up. "Fine."

I’d met all the interns Vincent supervised. But the only one who liked to sit in the passenger seat was Sloane.

Because of that woman, I had fought with Vincent like a madwoman more times than I could count, and brought up divorce more than once.

After I lost the baby, he was the first to surrender, swearing he would have no more private contact with her.

Seeing my indifference now, Vincent was clearly stunned. After a long pause, he couldn't help but ask:

"You just... don't care at all anymore?"

When I did care, all I got were endless fights, tears that never dried, and a child I could never get back.

Now? I truly didn't care.

...

I didn't answer him.

When we got back to our townhouse in Boston's Beacon Hill, Vincent stopped me at the door. His face was etched with a clear weariness, the kind that went beyond the exhaustion of the operating room.

He stared at me for a long time. "Why?"

I leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?"

Vincent paused, then started explaining again. "Sloane is an intern I'm mentoring. I didn't just give her a ride last night, there was another one too. Don't be―"

He didn't finish.

I completed the sentence for him in my head: Don't always assume the worst about her and me.

He probably felt he'd said too much and sighed.

"I haven't been seeing her privately. I let her sit up front yesterday because she gets carsick."

"She's my intern, and I'm her attending physician. Nothing more."

I said nothing.

Vincent's expression shifted, fatigue and frustration surfacing at the same time.

"Evelyn, what the hell do you want from me?"

I looked at him calmly.

"I don't want anything from you. And you don't have to explain anything to me."

After a beat, I added, "You should give that keychain back to her as soon as possible. Let's not have a repeat of last time―her showing up at our house in the middle of the night is pretty damn creepy."