Part 2Goodbye to My Secret Wife

My transfer was blocked.

The official reason was beautifully crafted nonsense. The base is currently engaged in a highly classified medical research project, and Dr. Cross, as a core member, cannot be reassigned at this critical juncture.

I stared at the notice and almost laughed out loud.

A core research member? I was a trauma surgeon. I hadn't even been briefed on the project, let alone seen the inside of that lab.

I knew it was Seraphina’s doing. She was a woman accustomed to control, to having the world bend to her will.

The phone rang while I was organizing patient files. Her father’s voice, the Admiral’s voice, boomed through the receiver, laced with its usual condescension.

“Ethan, I hear you’ve been acting out.”

I said nothing.

“I understand that young men have tempers,” he continued, “but you need to learn your place. The Vance family is not a ladder for a man of your background to climb, nor is it a cage you can just walk away from. Come back, apologize to Seraphina, and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

My fingers tightened on the receiver until my knuckles were white. Then, I relaxed.

“Admiral,” I said calmly, “I think I’ll leave that particular blessing for you to enjoy.”

I hung up.

The retaliation was swift. The next day, the rumors started. They slithered through the barracks and the mess hall, poisoning every conversation.

Dr. Cross has no professional ethics. He’s been using his position to harass a superior officer. He’s a social climber, trying to marry into the Vance family by any means necessary.

The stories were viciously detailed, woven with just enough truth to be believable. When I was getting food in the mess hall, I heard the whispers behind me.

“I heard he’s been some commander’s secret boy-toy for six years. Now he’s trying to make it official.”

“Shameless. The woman’s already engaged and he won’t give up.”

I turned, tray in hand, and the gossipers immediately fell silent.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the source of the slander. The Vance family was trying to destroy my reputation, to make my life in the Navy so unbearable that I’d have no choice but to come crawling back to them, begging for mercy.

But a man who has already died once has very little left to fear.

Three days later, the base hosted a diplomatic event. Several foreign military attachés were visiting for a tour and exchange. David, as a diplomat’s son, was naturally part of the welcoming committee. As the on-duty physician, my only job was to remain in the clinic and be ready.

That afternoon, chaos erupted. One of the foreign attachés collapsed, his breathing ragged, his face turning a terrifying shade of purple. Anaphylactic shock. Severe.

Someone burst into the clinic, screaming for a doctor.

I took one look at the man and knew we had seconds. “Get the crash cart! I need epinephrine, now!”

A corpsman ripped open the medical kit and then froze. “Doctor… there’s no epinephrine.”

My blood ran cold.

Impossible. I had personally inspected that kit yesterday. Every vial, every ampule was accounted for.

The attaché’s breathing grew fainter. The people around me started to panic, their fear turning to accusation.

“What do you mean there’s none? How is this clinic being run?”

“If he dies, who’s responsible?”

“Get him on oxygen, keep his airway clear!” I commanded, trying to remain calm. “And get the nearest hospital on the line, have them dispatch a full emergency team, now!” I dropped to my knees and began chest compressions.

Thankfully, the backup team arrived in time. The attaché’s life was saved.

But the investigation report placed the blame squarely on me.

The inspection log, which should have shown my signature from the previous day, had vanished. In its place was a forged document, showing the kit hadn't been checked in three days.

I looked up and saw David leaning against the doorframe of my office. He was holding a cup of coffee, a gentle, cruel smile on his face.

“Dr. Cross, I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything rash. After a screw-up this big… well, if it were me, I don’t know how I’d ever show my face again.”

I got to my feet and walked toward him. “You think this is enough to destroy me?”

“Destroy you?” He laughed, the sound full of genuine amusement. “Oh, Ethan, you give yourself too much credit. You’re just a mistake Seraphina made, a stain she was always going to wipe away. I’m just helping her clean up the trash a little early.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just imagine, what if that attaché had actually died? Negligent homicide? An international incident? Or would they just ship you straight to a court-martial?”

I stared at him. This man, in his obsession to marry Seraphina, had gone completely insane.

That evening, I received my official orders.

Suspended from duty, pending further investigation.