Chapter One

Annabel's life was turned upside down when she caught her boyfriend, Steven, in bed with another woman. The pain of betrayal was exacerbated by the discovery that she was pregnant with his child. As a dedicated cardiac surgeon, Annabel forced herself to focus on work, putting her emotional turmoil aside.

Annabel Sinclair had much belief in love. A kind of woman who is loyal, trustworthy, and possesses everything a man could want from a woman. But as she stood frozen at the entrance of her bedroom, watching the man she had given her life and love to devow their matrimonial bed with another woman, she realized how gullible she was.

Her heart beat per second, and rage fueled her mind. A tense and uncontrollable scent fills the room- an expensive cologne mingling in the air into something suffocating. He was surprised to see her as their gaze met. His mouth opened, unable to close—as he thought of an excuse, a lie, anything that could make this disappear.

“Annabel, wait, it is not what you think—”

She didn’t stay to hear the rest.

She stumbled backward as her eyes dimmed, and their apartment walls became too tight suddenly as she moved. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and the betrayal cut through her like a sharp-edged blade. How could he? After everything?

Her hand shivered as she got to her car, so much that she could barely fit the key into the ignition.

She should have seen it coming. The fuzzy excuses, the late nights, the way Steven had made her feel in the last few months. But love clouded her mind, making her overlook things.

As she drove without caution, she saw the scene rewind in her mind. All she could see was him. The man who promised her heaven and earth. The man she had fantasized about, the man who had just destroyed her world.

Her stomach crumpled, the queasiness twined in her gut. Then, like a cruel slap from fate, she remembered—she was pregnant but never had the chance to tell him.

The weight of reality crashed over her. She was going to be a mother. Alone.

Tears rolled down her eyes as she pulled over on an empty street, crying over the issue on the steering wheel. She had saved countless lives in the operating room and mended broken hearts. But who would mend hers??

She had forgotten herself, trapped in a curled of grief, but eventually, she forced herself to breathe. She wouldn’t let this break her.

Steven had taken enough from her already. He wouldn’t take her strength.

She straightened in her seat and wiped away her tears. Work. She realised that only work would be her escape, her anchor. In the Operating room, there was no room for emotions, no space for heartbreak. Just precision, expertise, and control.

Right now, she’s keeping herself in control so as not to fall apart.

Ready to put the nightmare behind her, she took a deep breath and drove off, leaving behind the broken¸ pieces of her past.

Because if there was one thing she knew, it was this: a shattered world could always be rebuilt.

Annabel returned to the hospital, replacing the warmth of the world unaffected, clinical precision. She welcomed the cool atmosphere. It was easier this way, easier to drown in the rhythm of her work, to let the beeping monitors and the hushed voices of nurses pull her away from the wreckage of her life.

Her finger moved repetitively as she carefully washed her hand at the medical sink. It was muscle memory by now: scrub, rinse, repeat. The aroma of medicated ignited her nose, distabilizing her, harboring her.

“Dr. Sinclair?”

She turned to discover Dr. Ethan Carter, one of the senior surgeons, watching her with a serious concentration. He was an extraordinary doctor, brilliant and intuitive, but he had a bad habit of reading people too well.

“Are you okay?” he asked, with a low voice, so only she could hear him.

Annabel forced a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

His eyes stayed put on her face a second too long, as if he’s assessing the truth behind her words, but he simply nodded. “Good. Because we’ve got a patient in critical condition an aortic rupture. And you will be assisting.”

A sudden rush of adrenaline surged through her body. This was what she needed. The Operation Room was her battlefield, and here, she was in charge.

Minutes later, she stood over the operating table, hands steady, heart calm. The world outside the betrayal, the heartbreak, the child growing inside her ceased to exist. All that mattered was saving the man on the table.

“Lancet,” she murmured.

The instrument was placed in her palm without hesitation.

“Incision at midline, suction ready,” Ethan instructed.

Annabel moved with practiced precision, working alongside him, their years of training turning their movements into an unspoken language. But as she focused on the delicate procedure, a wave of dizziness suddenly washed over her.

Her vision dip for some second, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Not now.

She blinked rapidly, forcing the nausea down. The last thing she needed was to collapse in the middle of surgery.

“Dr. Sinclair?” Ethan's voice was sharp, a note of concern underlying his usual commanding tone.

“I'm fine,” she said, her tone firm again, though she wasn't sure if it was true entirely.

She continued strongly, refusing to let her body betray her. She wouldn't let pregnancy make her weak.

After what felt like an endless, the surgery was over. The patient was stable. Annabel let out a slow breath as she stepped back, removing her gloves. The moment she left the OR, she braced a hand against the wall, willing herself to stay upright.

Ethan was there before she could compose herself.

"Annabel," he said, and it wasn't Dr. Sinclair this time; it was Annabel. The concern in his voice was unmistakable.

I'm just tired, she muttered.

"You don't get tired," he shot back. "Not in the OR. Something’s wrong."

She hesitated. Telling him would make it real.

"I'm fine," she insisted, pushing off the wall. She couldn't afford to be vulnerable. Not here.

But deep down, she knew the truth. She wasn’t fine at all.