Heartless

Valerie’s POV

My blood boiled. The sheer audacity of Beatrice Finch’s smile made my chest tighten. Desperate to avoid a confrontation in the middle of the hospital lobby, I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead and tried to walk past her.

I had almost cleared her shoulder when her voice rang out.

"You’re Doctor Thornton, right?"

The name stopped me dead in my tracks.

Doctor Thornton. It was my maiden name—the only tangible thing I had left of my deceased parents, a precious legacy I stubbornly refused to let go of. When I married Gideon, I held onto it like a lifeline, wanting to keep their memory alive. But Gideon had never understood my reasons. He took it as a personal insult, a sign that I wasn't fully committed to him. He wanted me to take his name, to erase my past. Over the years, that single choice had caused an immense amount of tension and deep misunderstandings between us.

Slowly, I turned around to face her.

Beatrice was standing right in front of me, her son Milo by her side. Up close, the boy's striking and undeniable resemblance to my husband was a physical blow. The shape of his jaw, the curve of his brow, the depth of his dark eyes—it was like looking at a miniature version of Gideon standing right in front of me. It was an incredibly painful and distracting visual, but my professional instincts forced me to look closer. My trained medical eyes immediately noticed something wrong with the child's eyes.

"I’m sorry, is your shift over?" Beatrice asked, her voice soft and hesitant. "I know this is sudden, but I really need your help."

I kept my face blank. "Help with what?"

Did she want me to hand over my husband? Did she want me to sign the divorce papers right here in the lobby?

"I know we’ve only met briefly, and I know it’s shameless of me to ask this," Beatrice said, her eyes watering. "But my son, Milo, has a serious medical condition. I desperately need a physician for him."

My brows furrowed. "I don't just accept patients on a whim."

"Please, Doctor Thornton," she pleaded. "You're our only hope."

"How do you even know who I am?"

Beatrice offered a small, shy smile, her fingers brushing against her neck. "A close friend recommended you. He told me you're an excellent ophthalmologist."

My hands clenched into tight fists. A close friend.

Gideon.

I wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. Was I supposed to thank my husband for complimenting my medical skills while he recommended me to his mistress? He actually sent her to my workplace. The betrayal felt like a fresh blade twisting in my ribs, making it hard to draw a single breath.

I forced myself to ignore the boy's painfully familiar face and focused solely on his eyes. The cloudiness, the irritation, and the slight opacity of his cornea were obvious to my trained eyes.

"Your son is suffering from a corneal disease," I said, my voice strictly professional. "I cannot be his physician."

Beatrice’s breath hitched. "What? Why?"

"Because my specialty is retinal diseases, not corneal diseases," I explained. "He needs a specialist in that specific field. I can refer you to a colleague who specializes in corneal issues."

Instead of listening to my explanation, Beatrice let out a sharp gasp and began to sob in the middle of the crowded lobby.

"But I can only trust you!" she wailed, her voice echoing off the walls. "You were recommended by someone very special to me. Please, Doctor Thornton. You're an eye doctor, you must know how to treat him. Tell me what I have to do to make you say yes."

My jaw tightened. I had just given her a perfectly logical, medical reason for my refusal. Was she deaf, or was she simply too stupid to comprehend basic English?

"I cannot treat him, Miss Finch," I repeated.

"I was so hesitant to come here," Beatrice wept, ignoring my words. "But when my friend insisted you were the best, I had to try. For my son's sake."

I looked down at Milo. He was holding a small plastic toy, looking up at us with wide, innocent eyes. He looked like a sweet, obedient boy who had no idea about the storm raging around him, but looking at his face was like looking at a mirror of my failing marriage. The weight in my chest grew heavier, pressing down on my lungs.

"If I have to kneel and beg you to save my son’s future, I will!" Beatrice cried.

Before I could even process her words, she let go of Milo's hand and dropped to her knees on the hard hospital floor.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, stepping back. "Get up!"

Seeing his mother on the floor, Milo immediately copied her, dropping to his knees beside her.

The spectacle was instantaneous. The busy lobby seemed to freeze as people all around us stopped in their tracks. Fellow doctors, nurses I worked with daily, and random patients all turned their heads to stare. Whispers broke out like wildfire, and several people began pointing at us.

A massive surge of panic gripped me. I was fully convinced that Beatrice was staging this dramatic, theatrical scene on purpose to ruin my professional image and manipulate the crowd into seeing me as a cruel villain.

"Stand up right now!" I demanded, my voice rising. "I already explained that this is not my area of expertise. Why are you doing this?"

Beatrice kept her hands pressed together, tears streaming down her face. "I won't get up until you agree to help him. Please, reconsider!"

"Your son is kneeling too! Get him off the floor!" I growled.

"He just wants to get better," she sobbed.

My patience snapped. "I am not the doctor who can help him! Stop this ridiculous performance and leave!"

I stepped forward and reached out, intending to pull Milo back to his feet.

But before my fingers could make contact, a hand reached down and brushed mine aside. The man gently pulled Milo and Beatrice to their feet.

"What the hell are you doing, Valerie?!"

The voice was a familiar, furious roar that made my stomach turn.

I slowly turned to face the man.

Gideon stood there, his chest heaving, his face pale with rage. His eyes were bloodshot, burning with immediate accusation and judgment. He didn't ask what happened. He simply looked at me as if I were a monster.

Seeing the instant hostility in his eyes, a cold numbness washed over me. I turned on my heel and tried to walk away, to escape this humiliating scene.

But Gideon stepped into my path, physically blocking my exit. His tall frame loomed over me, his expression twisting with anger.

"Really?" he spat, his voice low and venomous. "Have you become so cold-hearted? I can't believe you could do this to a child! You are a doctor, Valerie! How could you do this to a sick child? He needs your help, and you're taking this personally out of petty jealousy?"

I clenched my jaw, meeting his sharp, furious glare head-on. I matched his intensity, letting all the pain and betrayal burn in my eyes.

Looking at him, a harsh truth finally settled in my chest.

He had never even tried to love me. Not once.

In all the years we had been married, he had never bothered to learn who I actually was or what I did. He knew I was an ophthalmologist, but he didn't even know what my actual medical specialty was. He had never cared enough to ask about my research or my patients, just as he had never cared about me as a wife. How could I have been so blind for so long, thinking he might one day see me?

Slowly, I shook my head. The anger in my chest died down, leaving behind a profound, freezing disappointment.

"That is exactly what you excel at, Gideon," I said, my voice remarkably calm.

He frowned, taken aback.

"You always show up late," I continued, staring directly into his bloodshot eyes. "You observe a fraction of a situation, and then you instantly judge me based on your own stupid, flawed deductions. You are a master of guilt-tripping."

I looked at him, feeling nothing but cold detachment.

"I can't believe I ever married you."