Chapter 1

Melissa Lane, Michael Drew's childhood sweetheart, was up for a senior clinical position, but needed one last clinical study published to seal the deal.

So my fiancé, Michael, stole my research, slapped her name on it, and then snitched on me for double submission and academic fraud.

The hospital bigwigs sacrificed me to protect Melissa, their precious star.

They stripped me of every title, withheld all my bonuses, and I became a ghost in the hospital.

Michael, with his arm around Melissa, had the nerve to apologize, "Sorry you had to go through this. Once she gets her promotion, I'll make it up to you."

I stopped fighting and just let go. From now on, I was just a nobody, waiting for payday like a slacker.

Then a prince from a foreign royal family showed up, suddenly fell gravely ill, and demanded the best doctor in the country.

That doctor was me. When it was time for me to take the lead, my so-called fiancé and the hospital leaders finally freaked out.

*****

John Carter, the dean of the hospital, tapped his fingers on the desk. "Claire, this is final. We have to protect our top talent."

My fiancé, Michael, stood right next to John.

He didn't look at me, and his gaze was fixed on the sycamore trees outside the window.

"Claire, I'm sorry," he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he were scared to break the silence. "Sorry, you have to put up with this.

"Once Mel gets her promotion, I promise I'll make it up to you."

Mel was Melissa, his childhood sweetheart.

My research paper ended up with her name on it. Melissa was listed as the first author, and Michael was the senior author.

I got branded as someone who double-submitted and committed academic fraud.

My heart felt like someone was squeezing it, tighter and tighter. My blood froze in my veins, coldly.

I looked at Michael and tried to spot any guilt on his face.

I saw nothing. All I saw was calm, as if my whole existence were to clear the path for Melissa.

My voice came out hoarse. "Make it up to me? With what, exactly?"

Michael's brow furrowed. "Claire, don't start drama. Now is not the time. We need to look at the bigger picture."

John cleared his throat. "Claire, your disciplinary action has been decided. You're being removed from your position as Associate Chief of Cardiac Surgery.

"All your ongoing projects will be handed over to Dr. Melissa Lane. You won't get any bonuses this year.

"For now, you're being reassigned to Medical Records to take some time to reflect."

Each sentence felt like a punch to the gut. It was like getting knocked down over and over.

I didn't make a scene or argue. I lifted my head and looked at Michael. And managed to ask one last thing. "Why?"

Michael finally tore his gaze away from the window.

He looked at me, and I saw pity in his eyes.

"Claire, you're too strong," he said. "Mel is different. She needs someone to protect her. You love me so much. You'll understand, right?"

The room went dead silent. I could feel something inside me shatter.

It turned out that being strong is a crime. Loving him meant I was the one who had to take the fall.

I laughed, a soft sound, "Fine."

Michael was stunned.

John was stunned, too.

They probably had a whole speech ready to talk me down and pressure me. But none of it was needed now.

I stood up as the chair scraped loudly across the floor. "I accept. All of it."

I turned and walked out.

When my hand touched the doorknob, Michael called out behind me. "Claire."

I didn't look back.

"Once this is over, we'll get married," he said, as if he were doing me a favor.

I turned the doorknob and walked out.

The hallway lights were deathly pale, and they made everyone look bloodless.

I headed back to my office. No. My old office.

It was already empty. All that was left was a cardboard box. Inside were all my personal things.

I picked up the box and headed for the Medical Records, tucked away in the farthest corner of the building.

It was tiny and dim. Sunlight never reached there. It smelled like old paper and mildew.

I set the box down and sat in the only chair.

I pulled out my phone. Blocked Michael's number, all of them. I deleted them.

Then I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes.

The bigger picture, whatever. You wanted to protect Melissa. Fine, I was tired.

I didn't want to fight anymore. From now on, I, Claire Sutton, was officially a slouch. Just doing the bare minimum and waiting for payday. No one was ever going to take advantage of me again.