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The Surgeon's Revenge: My Ex-Husband's Regret

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 1024 | Released on: 15/01/2026

e considered the help. She threw the bedroom door open, the wood banging again

cost more than most people's cars. Her eyes scanned the

her heels digging into the plush carpet. "I was af

smoothing the fabric with precise, cal

to you," Ka

strides and kicked the duffel bag. It slid of

her mouth curving

She took a slow brea

she said. Her

y house aggressively? You're a felon, Iris. You're lucky my brother did

ersonal space. She smelled of overpow

e keys," sh

t ke

ve to the grocery store. It's a family asset. You do

p, just a fraction. She let Kamala see the co

. But her arrogance was a reflex. She

e me the key

was muscle memory, ingrained from years of tr

he caught Kamala's wrist. Her fingers clamped down over K

er knees buckling. "Let

d calmly. "If I wanted to break

way. He looked from Iris to

Let h

bled back, clutching her wrist

ala screamed. "Did you

g to throw, something to hurt Iris with

ped at the corners. It held a faded photo of Iris's mother. It wa

lunged

sh this piece of

ged. The temperature see

ed between Kamala and the table, her movement so f

e, blue and white, sitting on a pedestal. Hunter had bought it at auct

h the photo

ris's mother's picture. She looked at Iris, a

ing into the room. "Put that

. She tilted her he

fear for the porcelain. He cared more about the vase than he did about

er. She smiled. It

terest on four years

ened h

ll. It seemed to fall in slow

w across the room like shrapnel. A piece skittered across the f

g back, clutching her l

ble that used to be his pride and joy. His face wa

up her mother's photo and tucked it gentl

ked up the bag. She w

ock than pain. Hunter was blocking the exit, st

estroyed it,"

," sh

e shock wearing off. "You're not leavin

as shorter than him, but in that

on't get out of my way, the next thi

ad never seen before. A threat. A promise. And for t

epped

wn the long hallway, and out the

button. Her heart was bea

Thump

her phone and

s," she said.

Chapter End

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The Surgeon's Revenge: My Ex-Husband's Regret

Gu Chen Modern

“The view from our twenty-million-dollar penthouse was stunning, but all I could see was the cracked screen of my phone. A single message from a contact named Sienna had just appeared: "Game On." For four years, I had worn the shapeless beige cardigans and played the quiet, submissive wife the elite Rutledge family demanded. "Dorothea is back in the city," my husband Hunter said, refusing to meet my eyes as he pushed the divorce papers toward me. He offered a "generous" settlement, patronizingly claiming that with my felony record and "creative resume," I'd be living on the streets without his charity. He had no idea that while he was rehearsing his breakup speech, I was already zipping up a duffel bag filled with cash and a passport in a name he didn't recognize. His sister Kamala didn't even wait for me to pack before she was in our bedroom, calling me a leech and trying to destroy the only photo I had of my mother. I didn't cry or beg; I simply dropped Hunter's favorite three-million-dollar Ming vase, watched it shatter, and walked out the door with a cold smile. That night, I traded my sensible flats for a crimson silk dress and lethal heels, leaving Hunter's jaw on the floor when he saw me at an exclusive club. He watched in horror as I smashed a vodka bottle over a harasser's head, still believing I was a broken woman who needed his protection. He didn't know the truth until his grandmother finally revealed that I was the anonymous investor who had rescued their company from bankruptcy. I had gone to prison to protect his father's reputation, wearing the shame for years so their family name wouldn't implode. Hunter fell to his knees in the driveway, begging for a second chance and promising to dump his mistress, but the anger in my heart had already turned to ice. The man I had sacrificed my life for was now just a stranger I used to know. "The opposite of love isn't hate, Hunter. It's indifference." I climbed into a purple supercar as my phone buzzed with a call from Mount Sinai Hospital. My medical license was reinstated, and a high-profile trauma case was waiting for my hands. Iris the housewife was dead, and Dr. Gutierrez was finally back in play.”