One My younger sister was in a car crash, so I called my husband-a top neurosurgeon-right away. He promised to lead the surgery and personally operate. But when I reached the OR, my husband put his not-yet-graduated intern, Ivy Summers, in as lead surgeon. He stepped aside to mark up her thesis instead. "Doctor, 1-1 accidentally nicked the patient's brain while cutting the skull," she said, voice shaking. "The bleeding won't stop-what do I do now?" Ivy went white, then rushed over and threw herself into his arms, tears streaming. My husband glanced at the flatline on the monitor, paused, then gently patted her head and murmured, "Don't worry. I've got you." He turned out of the operating room. Facing me-the panic written all over my face-he said, cool and flat, "The surgery failed. You should go make the funeral arrangements. "A routine decompressive craniectomy-how could that fail? She was fine when she went in!" Eyes burning, I lunged for the door. He shoved me back. "I said it failed, so it failed. There's nothing to see-this is just your sister's fate," he said, impatient. "Given the severity of the crash, resuscitation was futile. Better she go early than suffer. Serena, enough." With that, he took the flustered intern by the hand and walked off. I stared at their backs. Ivy even shot me a quick, taunting look over her shoulder. I couldn't help laughing. Did he really think the one on that table was my sister? "Ms. Stone, nothing brings the dead back. I'm sorry for your loss," my assistant sighed, looking at me with sympathy. "What exactly would I be grieving?" I said, calm. She blinked, thinking I was babbling from shock. The pity in her eyes deepened. "If you suspect something went wrong in there," she said, hesitant, "we could loop in Legal and sue the hospital." "No need to sue." I paused. "But do call Legal. Have them draft a divorce agreement." I looked up, gaze settling on Ethan Lane and Ivy Summers at the end of the hall. The culprit herself showed not a hint of guilt about the life she'd just cost. She was snuggled against my husband. Ethan brushed the tip of her nose, indulgent. Chapter One 0.92% Right in front of me, the two of them flirted like no one else existed. They looked positively cheerful. I was genuinely curious: once Ethan found out that the person on the table wasn't my sister at all-but his darling kid sister-would he still be smiling? A nurse walked up with a death certificate for my signature. "Since Ethan Lane is the one who botched this," I said, "have him sign it himself." I refused, cold. His own sister-what did that have to do with me, his sister-in-law? Besides, I was about to be his former sister-in-law. "Ms. Stone, I get how you feel, but think this through-Dr. Lane is your husband," the nurse frowned. That night, with the divorce agreement from Legal ready to go, I was about to send it to Ethan when I saw Ivy Summers post photos on Instagram: red wine, steak, candlelight dinner, the two of them making a heart with their hands. One image showed Ethan's back in the Medical Affairs office as he wiped the security footage. "I messed up big-time on the table today," her caption read. "If Doc hadn't taken the fall, this poor baby wouldn't even graduate. This poor baby has nothing else to offer-so I'll just offer myself instead." A chain of kissy-face emojis followed. I chuckled, tapped like, took screenshots, saved them. Another piece of evidence in hand. Then I sent Ethan the divorce papers. Serena: [Look them over. If everything's fine, come home and sign.) Less than a minute later, my phone lit up with his call. 0.92%