Meanwhile, others were discussing how perfect Hadden and Cynthia were as a couple.

“I don’t get it. Why did Dr. Fletcher ever choose her in the first place?”

Just then, one of the nurses who’d been working with Hadden for years flung a memo in my face.

Apparently, because of the recent medical incident, the higher-ups were demanding an investigation. Both the department and I had to submit individual reports.

No surprise there. I could imagine how furious they were. This was the hospital’s first collaboration with the biotech research lab, and I had ruined it. The one and only vial of the antiviral serum—still unapproved for clinical trials—had been wasted on Cynthia.

Now, both my department and my name were publicly criticized throughout the hospital.

Since I’d asked for a divorce, Cynthia had taken every opportunity to talk about her and Hadden’s childhood memories, painting a picture of how they were always meant to be. Somehow, rumors started spreading that I had only married Hadden by manipulating him—using my pregnancy to “climb the social ladder.”

Wherever I went, I was met with whispers and scorn. Even patients, overhearing the gossip, would join in on the insults without knowing the full story.

Some of the more extreme ones—those who idolized Hadden and Cynthia as the perfect “couple”—even threw urine bags at me in protest.

Not even a trip to the bathroom spared me from their hostility. Everywhere I went, their malice followed me.

Yet, they ignored one crucial fact—I was infected too.

My symptoms worsened day by day. I was losing control of my bladder and bowels, and dizziness hit me more frequently. At first, I thought I could manage without the wheelchair, but now I couldn’t even imagine standing without it.

“What are you doing in a wheelchair? You haven't given birth yet. Don't tell me you're working like that? You have a chair in our department, Cynthia. Or, are you just trying to make us look bad? What, do you think we’re mistreating you? Get up!”

Hadden’s voice was laced with irritation. He couldn’t even look at me without growing impatient.

Before I could respond, he grabbed me and yanked me out of the wheelchair. The sudden force sent me crumpling to the ground and my vision spun.

The blanket I had been using to cover my belly also fell to the side, leaving me exposed.