The so-called murderer showed no guilt — she was leaning against him, smiling. And he, my husband, brushed her nose with his fingertip as if nothing had happened.
They flirted openly, basking in each other’s presence, as though the life they’d just ended meant nothing.
I wondered, with a cruel sense of curiosity — would Lucian still be smiling if he learned the truth?
Because the one lying on that operating table wasn’t my sister at all.
Would he still be so tender when it was his own sister’s life that was lost under Ivy’s scalpel?
Just then, a nurse approached and held out the death certificate.
“Please sign here.”
“Since it was Dr. Crowther who killed her,” I said coldly, “let him sign it himself.”
“What does his sister’s death have to do with me? I’m only her sister-in-law — soon to be ex-sister-in-law.”
“Ms. Alden, you need to think carefully,” the nurse warned, frowning. “If you cause a scene, it will harm Dr. Crowther’s reputation.”
I sneered, wrote down the name from the victim’s ID, and filed an official complaint.
The nurse’s face darkened, her tone laced with anger.
“Fine. If you refuse to sign, I’ll have Dr. Crowther come down and deal with you personally!”
I almost laughed.
When Lucian Crowther first joined the company, I donated a million to his department just so he could have a better working environment and an easier start. Everyone in the hospital — from the director to the nurses — knew how much I doted on him.
And maybe that’s why they all thought they could threaten me with his name.
But now? My love for Lucian was dead and buried.
Threatening me with him was laughable.
That night, I was just about to send the divorce agreement, freshly drafted by the legal department, when I saw Ivy’s IG Stories.
Candlelit dinner. Red wine. Steak. Heart-shaped hand signs.
And then, the one that made my blood run cold — Lucian’s back in the Medical Affairs Office, deleting surveillance footage.
Her caption read:
“Today I made a huge mistake on the operating table. If you hadn’t taken the blame for me, I might never graduate. I can’t repay you, so I can only give you my body ️”
I let out a short, cold laugh and hit “like.”
Screenshot. Saved.
Another piece of evidence for my collection.
Then I casually sent him the divorce agreement.
“Look over it. If you’re fine with it, come back and sign.”
Less than a minute later, my phone rang.