Chapter 1

Ophelia’s POV

I let out a quiet sigh as I closed my anatomy notebook, the familiar scent of formaldehyde still lingering in the air. Another Wednesday afternoon at St. Mary's, another dissection class finished. The late autumn sunlight streaming through the windows cast long shadows across the corridor floor, creating patterns that reminded me of the scattered pieces of my life.

The sound of whispers and shuffling feet drew my attention. A group of fellow students stood nearby, their attempts at subtle glances about as successful as a first-year trying to find a vein. I pretended to be absorbed in organizing my notes, but my ears caught every word.

"Did you hear about her and Finnegan?"

"I heard they broke up..."

"But what about that pharmaceutical guy?"

The corners of my mouth twitched. It was almost funny how predictable hospital gossip could be – spreading faster than a flu virus during winter. I'd been waiting for someone to work up the courage to ask directly. Three... two... one...

"Hey, Ophelia?" One of my fellow classmates finally approached, her voice carrying that forced casualness that made my stomach clench. "So... about you and Finnegan..."

I looked up, carefully arranging my features into what I hoped was casual indifference. The expression felt strange on my face, like a mask that didn't quite fit. My heart was doing that weird flutter thing it always did when his name came up, but I'd gotten good at ignoring it. Too good, maybe.

"What’s the matter?" I asked, my voice steady despite the emotional tornado swirling inside me. The truth was, every time someone mentioned Finn, it felt like pressing on a bruise–that dull, aching pain that I know shouldn't hurt anymore but somehow still does.

She shifted her weight, looking like she'd rather be attempting her first spinal tap than continuing this conversation. "Well... people are saying you two broke up. And that you're seeing James Wilson now?"

I could feel more eyes on us now, the hallway growing quieter as others paused to listen. Perfect timing. I deliberately raised my voice just enough to carry, ignoring the way my hands wanted to shake.

"Yes, Finn and I are done." The words came out easier than they should have, considering how many times I'd rehearsed them in my head. "And yes, James and I are together now."

The silence that followed felt heavy, like the moment before a thunder crack. I continued organizing my papers, fighting the urge to glance down the hallway. Don't look. Don't look. Don't—

"I heard..." she hesitated, then pressed on with the determination of someone ripping off a Band-Aid. "I heard there was money involved?"

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere inside me–a strange, hollow sound that didn't quite match the way my chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. "You mean the million-dollar separation fee? Yes, that's true too." I met her eyes, ignoring the way my stomach churned. "The Shaw family was quite generous."

The moment the words left my mouth, I felt it–that shift in the air, like the drop in pressure before a storm. The sudden silence of the crowd told me everything I needed to know even before his cologne–that stupidly expensive mix of bergamot and cedar that still haunted my dreams–reached me.

My heart wasn't just fluttering now; it was doing a full gymnastic routine. But I kept my posture relaxed, even as every nerve ending in my body screamed at me to run. Six years of medical training, and nothing had prepared me for this particular kind of pain.

"Ophelia." His voice cut through the air like a perfectly wielded scalpel. "Care to repeat what you just said?"

The other students scattered, leaving me alone in the suddenly too-quiet corridor. I turned slowly, taking in the sight of him in his immaculate white coat. My fingers twitched with the muscle memory of straightening that coat's collar, of feeling the warmth of his neck beneath my fingertips.

"Which part?" I met his gaze, grateful that at least my voice wasn't betraying the chaos in my chest. "The part about us being over? Or the part about your family's generous parting gift?"

I watched his jaw clench, saw the muscle twitch that told me he was angry. Good. Anger was easier than the alternative. Anger I could handle. It was the other emotions–the hurt, the betrayal, the lingering traces of something that felt too much like love–that I couldn't deal with.

"You're playing a dangerous game." His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the storm brewing underneath.

"No game," I said, forcing my lips into what felt like a smile but probably looked more like a grimace. "Just honesty. I got what I wanted, and now I'm with someone I actually love—"

The rest of my sentence disappeared against his lips as he closed the distance between us in two quick strides. The kiss was harsh, demanding, tasting of coffee and righteous anger and something else that made my heart ache. My body betrayed me, remembering all the times we'd done this before, in on-call rooms and empty corridors and...

I shoved him away, my chest heaving. "Don't you dare—"

"Dare what?" His eyes were dark with something that looked too much like possession. "Touch what's mine?"

"I'm not yours," I spat back, even as something inside me cracked at the words. "I never was. The million dollars your family paid proves that."

I watched the emotions play across his face–hurt, betrayal, anger–before settling into a mask of pure contempt that made my stomach twist. "You're right. You're not mine. You're not worth it."

He turned and walked away, each footstep echoing in the empty corridor like a countdown to something I couldn't name. I waited until he disappeared around the corner before letting my legs give out, sliding down the wall to sit on the cold floor.

That's when I felt it–the first sharp cramp, followed by a warm trickle between my legs. My hand flew to my lap coat pocket, where the folded paper felt like it was burning through the fabric.

I pressed my palm against my abdomen, trying to breathe through the sudden pain.

The pain intensified, and I felt more warmth between my legs. This wasn't just stress or anxiety. This was something else entirely, something that threatened to unravel everything I'd sacrificed so much to protect.

Yes. I was pregnant.

And the last person I wanted to know about this was him, Finnegan Shaw.