Chapter 2

With the hidden medical report in hand, I made my way to the Greene Group headquarters alone.

In the top-floor boardroom, Baz's father, Joey Greene, sat at the head of the table.

I slid both my resignation as Baz's attending physician and the signed divorce papers across the table to him.

Joey glanced over the agreement, looking genuinely sorry.

He called in his lawyer, who drew up the share transfer paperwork, offering me major shares in the Greene Group to make up for my loss.

The solid wooden double doors to the boardroom were kicked open with a resounding crash.

Baz stormed in, his expression thunderous.

He radiated a tightly controlled, restless energy.

The veins on his forehead stood out.

These were unmistakable signs that his mania was about to erupt.

In the past, whenever he showed these signs, I'd reach out and grab his wrist right away.

I'd help him breathe in a steady rhythm, guiding him back from the edge and soothing his nerves.

But today, I sat there and let him lose control.

He strode up to the conference table and snatched up the divorce papers.

Baz snapped, "You used the miscarriage as an excuse to ditch me, so you could steal my confidential medical data?

"Serena, you want to use my illness to publish a paper, don't you?"

For three years, all my case studies and research revolved around Baz's illness.

Those endless days spent recording and analyzing were the foundation of my work as a psychologist.

But in his warped perspective, all my patience and care were nothing but deliberate exploitation.

Joey slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet, jabbing a finger at Baz.

"If Serena hadn't taken the legal heat for your reckless moves, the board would've booted you out of the CEO seat ages ago!" he snapped.

The senior board members exchanged uneasy glances.

For the past three years, every time Baz lost control and triggered a crisis, I was the one who stepped in with my crisis intervention reports to quell the panic.

I had to calm down the employees he assaulted for no reason.

I'd spend all night erasing any trace that could reveal his emotional instability.

He once thanked me for these efforts. He was nearly in tears.

Now, he was using them as weapons against me.

Baz didn't even bother listening to Joey's warning.

He ripped the divorce papers in half.

Baz spat, "Only Zea truly cares about me.

"She's the only one who doesn't come at me with some research motive, or try to hook me up to her gadgets.

"Serena, you're not my wife. You're a cold-blooded mind manipulator!"

I sat in my chair, emotionless.

I took out a black, confidential handbook from my briefcase.

Inside were all of Baz's mania triggers, his stress response data, and the emergency soothing strategies.

This was the only thing that helped him keep up the facade of being normal.

I handed the handbook to the new chief of the medical team, who was standing by.

I said, "Everything's been handed over.

"From this moment on, I'm out of Baz's treatment and his life for good."

Baz let out a derisive snort.

He marched over and snatched the confidential handbook from the new chief.

Without sparing anyone a glance, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

The loud bang of the door echoed through the boardroom.

I turned down the share transfer paperwork and took the private elevator down.

The dull ache in my lower abdomen still reminded me of the twins I'd lost.

I walked out of the Greene Group building.

Two court officers in black suits suddenly emerged from behind the revolving door.

They blocked my path and presented me with an official court summons, stamped in red.

I thought Baz's ranting during his episode was a passing incident of paranoia.

But when I saw the court summons accusing me of stealing trade secrets, I realized how determined he was.