Chapter 2
The sunlight in Newport City was always gentle and warm.
My apartment was on the twenty-first floor, with a big floor-to-ceiling window.
Every morning, sunlight flooded the living room.
The cast on my leg had been taken off, but walking was still a struggle. I had to rely on crutches.
May was worried about leaving me alone, so she took annual leave and flew in just to keep me company.
She was sorting through the medical books I'd had shipped over from Oldbridge, muttering curses under her breath. "That bastard Jonathan is probably living it up with Wendy right now."
"Whatever. Let him do what he wants," I said, buried in the latest edition of "Cardiothoracic Surgery Atlas", not even bothering to look up.
"You really don't hate him at all?"
I flipped a page and said coolly, "What's the point in hating him? Taking care of myself beats everything else."
May sighed and put a book on the top shelf.
"You're just too aloof. If you'd used some tricks back then, Wendy never would've been able to get close to Jonathan."
I just smiled and kept quiet.
Tricks? If someone had to resort to tricks in a marriage, then that marriage was already doomed.
*****
I got a new number, moved to Newport City, and started over with a new job.
I wanted nothing to do with Oldbridge anymore.
The director of Newport City Hospital, Ethan Giles, appreciated my skills and gave me top-level privileges.
I had a private office, an elite medical team, and unrestricted authority over research projects.
I poured all my energy into my work.
During the day, I consulted with patients and analyzed cases at the hospital; at night, I immersed myself in the latest medical journals.
My leg was healing up day by day, and pretty soon I'd be able to toss the crutches for good.
Everything was moving in the right direction.
It felt like Jonathan had never been a part of my life at all.
*****
Two weeks later, I took charge of my very first surgery.
The case was insanely complicated. The patient was a big shot in Newport City, with a piece of shrapnel from twenty years ago stuck in his heart, right next to his aorta.
All the local experts were completely stumped.
The surgery lasted a full eight hours.
When I finally walked out of the operating room, the patient's family and the hospital leadership were all waiting anxiously outside.
As soon as they saw me nod, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Ethan shook my hand, so moved that he almost didn't know what to say. "Dr. Evans, your skills are truly extraordinary! Absolutely extraordinary!"
Overnight, everyone in Newport City's medical scene was talking about me.
I felt genuinely secure for once.
This kind of respect and sense of security—earned entirely by my own hands—was something I never had in all those years with the Grants.
*****
May's vacation was coming to an end, and she was about to head back to Oldbridge.
Before leaving, she held my hand tightly, her voice full of concern as she kept telling me, "Grace, don't let yourself be soft-hearted. If anyone from the Grants tries to contact you, just ignore them."
"I know," I replied.
"And seriously, get out more and meet some new people. You're only twenty-eight. Don't live like a hermit."
I smiled and promised her I would.
Once May left, the apartment felt cold and lonely.
I set my crutches aside and tried walking on my own, taking it slow.
Just walking the short distance from the living room to the bedroom left me drenched in sweat.
The spots where my legs had healed still sent out a faint, stabbing pain.
It was a reminder that I should never look back.
*****
That evening, I got a call from Ethan, inviting me to a medical networking dinner.
I was ready to say no, but he mentioned there'd be top overseas experts and some big names from charity foundations—people who could actually help with my research.
I ended up saying yes.
The dinner was held at a five-star hotel.
I wore a plain white suit, my long hair twisted up to cover the faint scar on my neck.
I got that scar three months ago, when a shard of broken glass cut me.
The ballroom was buzzing with guests.
I never cared much for these events, so I grabbed a glass of champagne and slipped away to a quiet corner.
I was watching the night scenery outside when a gentle man's voice came from beside me. "Dr. Evans?"
I turned to look.
Standing there was a stylish guy with gold-rimmed glasses, looking to be in his thirties.
"And you are?" I asked.
"I'm Michael Landon from Integrity Capital," he said, smiling as he reached out his hand. "I've been hearing your name everywhere. Finally, I get to meet you face to face."
I knew about Integrity Capital.
It was one of the country's top investment firms.
I shook his hand politely. "Hello, Mr. Landon."
"My mother was the patient you operated on a few days ago," Michael said, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Dr. Evans, you've done an incredible thing for our whole family."
"It's my duty as a doctor."
We exchanged a few words.
Michael was easy to talk to. He had a great sense of boundaries and never made things uncomfortable.
He told me Integrity Capital had a dedicated fund for medical research and wondered if I'd be interested.
That was just what I'd been looking for.
We exchanged contact information and set up a time to discuss things further.