He Knew She Was Trouble When She Walked In

Camille POV:

"I am so sorry, Ms. Glenn. Uterine cancer, stage three. You have missed the optimal window for surgery..."

I could not hear whatever the doctor said next. The roaring in my ears drowned it out entirely. I just kept thinking that today was my third wedding anniversary with Courtney Trevino.

My fingers gripped the thin medical report so tightly my knuckles turned white. I stood rigid in the stark hospital corridor for a long time before finally pulling out my phone. I didn't dial Courtney's number—in three years of marriage, he had never once answered my calls. I could only dial his executive assistant, Arthur Hayes.

It rang for an agonizingly long time before Arthur finally picked up, his tone as dismissive and aloof as ever. "Mrs. Trevino. Do you need something?"

"Where is Courtney?" I asked, my fingers curling into a tight fist. "I have something very important to tell him. Right now."

"Mr. Trevino is busy."

"Just one minute... please. Just let him answer the phone."

In three years, it was the first time I had ever used the word "please."

Before Arthur could even respond, a soft, teasing woman's voice drifted through the receiver. "Courtney, what's the big surprise? You're being so secretive."

"Look up."

That low, magnetic timbre was a voice etched into my very bones. But that gentleness? I hadn't heard it a single time in three years.

Click.

Arthur hung up without hesitation.

The very next second.

Boom—!

Across Boston Harbor, the first firework exploded. Then a second, a third... Cascades of fire lit up the ink-blue night, painting the sky before eventually forming two massive, glowing letters:

"BR."

Blair Romero.

The massive flat screen in the hospital lobby was broadcasting the spectacle live. The camera zoomed in. Courtney, the ruthless captain of the Boston franchise, was clad in a dark, tailored overcoat. With one arm, he shielded the woman leaning into his chest, ducking his head to gently smooth her hair against the harsh harbor wind.

"Unbelievable! This is a multi-million-dollar birthday surprise from the captain and heir to Trevino Sports & Entertainment!" the anchor gushed. "The lucky lady is Blair Romero, right? The Ivy League-educated pioneer in sports physical therapy. Beautiful, brilliant, and from a phenomenal background. They really are a match made in heaven!"

"No wonder the captain spoils her like this. Put me in his skates, and I'd do the exact same!"

I tilted my head back, staring at the screen.

I remembered our first year of marriage. I had carefully, tentatively asked him if there would be fireworks at the harbor for New Year's Eve, and if he could take me to see them just once.

He hadn't even looked up from his playbook. "Childish."

It turned out fireworks weren't childish. I just wasn't worthy of them.

My grip loosened. The medical report slipped through my fingers and fluttered to the hospital floor. People walking past stepped on it, leaving muddy footprints over the stark black-and-white print.

I didn't bend down to pick it up.

_

At 1:00 AM, the front door of the estate unlocked.

When Courtney flipped on the lights, he paused, spotting me sitting alone in the pitch-black living room. On the dining table in front of me sat a spread of completely cold dishes and an untouched, unopened cake.

He barely glanced at it, his brows drawing together in a slight frown, acting as if he hadn't the faintest memory of what day it was.