The phone line at Charles de Gaulle Airport hummed with a heavy, suffocating static. In that agonizing silence across the Atlantic, the man who had effortlessly orchestrated a double life finally stopped breathing. / Chapter 5 / 15

Chapter 5 - The Toll of BetrayalThe family waiting room smelled of stale coffee and overwhelming dread.

When the heavy doors swung open and Althia walked in—still wearing her light-blue surgical scrubs, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, a faint smudge of dried blood near the pocket of her coat—Preston and Cecily snapped to their feet simultaneously.

Preston rushed forward, his face a mask of desperate hope. "Is he... is he alive?"

Althia stopped three feet away from them. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at the two people who had conspired to shatter her life five days ago in Paris.

"The surgery was successful," Althia said flatly. "The aortic arch replacement held. He is currently being transferred to the surgical ICU under sedation. If he survives the next forty-eight hours without stroke or visceral ischemia, he will make a full recovery."

Preston sagged against a leather armchair, letting out a ragged, hysterical sob of pure relief. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. "Thank God. Oh, thank God, Althia. You saved him. You actually saved him."

"Don't thank me," Althia said, her voice like shards of broken glass. "I saved Richard because he was a brilliant, honorable man who deserved a better son than the one he got."

Cecily stepped forward, wringing her hands, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her voice was small, trembling with guilt. "Althia... I am so sorry. I know you hate us. I know there are no words that can ever—"

"Stop right there, Cecily," Althia cut her off sharply. "Do not speak. Do not try to apologize, and do not dare ask for my understanding."

Preston looked up, wiping his eyes, trying to summon the old charm that used to disarm her. "Althia, please. Let’s sit down and talk. I know how this looks. I know the timing was insane, but—"

"Insane?" Althia let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Preston, you didn't miss a flight or misplace your car keys. You executed a calculated, deliberate deception. You stood at a town hall, signed a government document making Cecily your wife, and then, four hours later, called me in Paris to discuss color palettes for our wedding. You looked me in the eye—or rather, looked through a phone screen—and lied with every breath in your body."

"We felt pressured!" Cecily blurted out, her voice cracking. "The family trusts, the corporate restructuring... Preston’s father wanted us aligned before the board meeting, and—"

"Oh, shut up, Cecily," Althia snapped. "Don't hide behind corporate restructuring like you're corporate martyrs. You wanted access to the Sterling empire, and you wanted each other. Fine. You're married now. Mazel tov."

Preston stood up, stepping closer, his expression desperate. "Althia, it was a mistake. A panic response. I realized too late that I made a terrible mistake. I don't love Cecily. It was a paper marriage of convenience. I'm going to file for an annulment this week. I want you. I’ve always wanted you."

The absolute audacity of his words hung in the sterile air like a foul odor.

Althia stared at him—truly stared at him—stripping away every romantic illusion she had harbored for the past five years. She saw the weakness, the cowardice, the bottomless selfishness beneath the expensive haircut and designer clothes.

"An annulment?" Althia smiled, a slow, predatory curve of her lips. "No, Preston. You worked very hard for that marriage certificate. You posed proudly outside Greenwich Town Hall with your arm around my best friend. You keep it."

"Althia—"

"Our engagement is over," Althia said quietly, her voice ringing with absolute finality. "My apartment keys are on the desk in your office. My things are being packed into boxes as we speak by a courier service. And as for Sterling Memorial... I am resigning my position as Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery effective immediately."