Chapter 4
Steven's POV
The door to Steven's office burst open.
"Dr. Brooks, Mrs. Brooks is missing," his assistant said, face pale with panic.
Steven's pen tore a streak of ink across the page, trembling in his grip.
He didn't understand why Laura suddenly vanished. She stayed in the psychiatric ward, under constant supervision.
"Get Natalie and Michael now," he ordered, though a flicker of real fear flashed in his eyes.
Natalie and Michael burst in.
The three of them pulled the door shut, making sure no one could overhear.
"Security footage shows she had help getting out," Michael said in a low voice. "It might be her father."
Steven hurled the glass to the floor, smashing it into pieces.
"How?" he burst out, disbelief shaking his voice. "Didn't you say her father would never fall for her nonsense?"
The phone rang, slicing through the tense standoff. "Dr. Brooks, the police are here. They want to ask you some questions about your wife."
The cops sat across from Steven, flipping through his notebooks.
He said, "Dr. Brooks, we've received a report that you've been detaining your wife, Laura Brooks."
Steven instantly switched gears, putting on the worried husband act.
He said, "Sir, my wife suffers from delusional disorder, and we're doing our best to treat her. There might be a misunderstanding."
"Is that so?" the officer said, sliding a file across the desk. "Then how do you explain these forged medical records?"
A week later, the hospital board called an emergency meeting.
"Given the current accusations, the board has decided to suspend you until the investigation wraps up," the man in the lead said, his expression stone-cold.
Steven sent his chair flying in a fury and stormed out of the conference room.
At the end of the corridor, Natalie was frantically destroying files, her hands halting instantly as she caught sight of him.
Steven squinted. "What are you doing?"
"Just organizing the documents," Natalie replied, avoiding his gaze. "The police could be investigating any minute."
Steven sneered as the dark suspicion of betrayal gnawed at him inside.
When he got home, the silence hit him like a wall.
Laura's clothes were gone. Her makeup, her books—every trace of her had been wiped away, like she'd never even lived there.
He yanked open the closet. Only his clothes hung there, lonely and out of place.
The wedding photo was still hanging in the study. Steven stared at Laura's smile, and for the first time, a sharp pain tore through him.
He drowned himself in Whiskey.
The TV blared with the news. The host said, "Renowned doctor Steven Brooks is accused by multiple women of performing illegal surgeries."
His phone kept buzzing. Colleagues, friends, the National Medical Association—everyone was cutting ties with him and canceling invitations.
Soon, he got a lawyer's letter.
Laura's father, Aidan Summers, had already helped her file both for divorce and criminal charges against Steven, with a ten-page list of evidence.
"Your wife is far sharper than you ever expected," the lawyer said, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.
Steven drove straight over to Aidan's place, desperate for answers.
He had barely pulled up when two security guards stepped in and blocked his way.
"Mr. Brooks, you're not welcome here," one guard said bluntly, passing him an envelope. "Mrs. Brooks asked me to deliver this to you."
Steven's hands shook as he tore open the envelope in his car.
It read: [Steven, I once loved you with all my heart, but you turned me into just another test subject. For three years, every treatment was agony, and every so-called act of care was nothing but a lie.
I've got all the evidence I need. Don't even think about coming after me. You've lost me forever.]
Rain smeared across the windshield as Steven floored the accelerator, shooting through a red light without a second thought.
Blinding headlights burst into view, followed by the piercing scream of brakes tearing through the night.
There was a crash, and everything went black.
Steven woke up in a hospital bed.
There were no flowers, no messages of concern, just nurses giving injections and changing bandages for him.
"Has anyone come to visit me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The nurse gave him a blank look. "No."
The only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the machines.
For the first time in his life, Steven tasted what loneliness felt like.