“Don’t be dramatic, Elena,” he said. “You’d have nothing without me.”

That lie again.

What he never knew was that the house belonged to me. The investments were mine. Even the malpractice insurance for his private clinic—the one he begged me to help arrange—was under my control.

And when he secretly started moving money, I had already taken steps ahead of him.

Now he lay pale beneath the hospital lights, shaking, vulnerable. Vanessa’s eyes finally met mine.

“Elena…” she whispered.

Marcus turned his head, fear filling his expression.

I stepped forward, snapping on gloves.

“Good evening,” I said calmly. “Rough night?”

Vanessa grabbed my wrist. “You can’t be part of his treatment.”

I stared at her hand until she let go.

“I’m not his doctor,” I said evenly. “I’m the charge nurse. I make sure everything is properly recorded.”

Her face lost color.

Marcus tried to speak. “Elena… listen…”

I leaned closer, checking his pulse.

“No,” I said softly. “Tonight, you listen.”

Dr. Patel rushed in, and the room erupted into action.

“Penetrating trauma to the left shoulder,” I reported. “Blood pressure dropping. Patient conscious but confused. Possible alcohol involvement.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Marcus muttered weakly.

“Don’t write that,” Vanessa snapped.

Every nurse heard her.

“Everything said here is documented,” I replied.

Minutes later, a police officer arrived. Marcus had crashed his car into a barrier outside a luxury hotel. Vanessa had been with him—wearing a diamond necklace I recognized immediately.

My anniversary necklace.

The one he claimed had been stolen.

When asked for a statement, Vanessa quickly composed herself.

“It was an accident. He was just driving me home from a family dinner.”