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When I stepped down from the operating table, the nurse handed me a divorce agreement. Three months ago, my husband, Jonathan Grant, broke both my legs with a golf club, right in front of all our friends and family. He forced me to grovel and confess I was a "slut", all just to please his first love, Wendy Stone. But what they didn't know was that I was the only surgeon in the country capable of extracting special shrapnel. The next day, Jonathan was rushed to the ER. His secretary reported, "Mr. Grant, Mrs. Grant is the only one in the country who can remove the shrapnel in your abdomen, but she moved abroad yesterday." Jonathan went berserk, smashing everything in sight, but it was already too late.