​She had shed the panic from earlier that morning. Dressed in her designer outfit, her wavy hair falling neatly over her slender shoulders, she looked like an untouchable, high-born goddess who had walked into a rundown clinic by mistake. Her sharp, aristocratic features were completely composed, carrying the cool, aloof elegance that the entire city's upper class knew her for.​Seeing Liam emerge with tired, hollow eyes, a subtle, genuine smile appeared on Serena’s painted lips.​"Dr. Whitfield," Serena said softly, her clear, crisp voice echoing down the empty corridor. "You certainly keep your patients waiting less than you keep yourself fed. It is already well past lunchtime. Since you just finished your shift, allow me to invite you to have lunch with me."​Liam paused, his eyebrows drawing into a slight, guarded frown. Remembering Chloe’s intense possessiveness and the fiery scene she had made in the VIP room barely an hour ago, a natural sense of hesitation rose in his chest.

​"We can go with comprehensive pressure, for starters.”Vivian stated ruthlessly, "We will bypass his personal feelings entirely and target his external survival. We shall leverage the Harrington family's influence over the municipal health administration to launch immediate disciplinary investigations into his clinical license. We freeze his modest checking accounts through temporary judicial injunctions under the pretext of asset preservation for marital property. We can even exert subtle pressure on the landlords of his rented hotel to terminate his lease. Once he realizes that he cannot secure a roof over his head, cannot earn a single dollar, and cannot practice medicine anywhere in this province without your blessing, his stubborn male pride will shatter. He will have no choice but to come crawling back through your front door and beg for your protection."​Chloe stood frozen, her fingers digging deep into the palms of her hands until her short nails bit painfully into the soft

​Liam’s brows locked together into a deep, tight line. He looked at the burly man standing aggressively over the elderly woman, his arms flailing like a madman to block the nurses. The hallway was quickly becoming clogged with frightened patients, crying children, and curious onlookers craning their necks to watch the dramatic confrontation.​"Sir, be reasonable. If your mother is truly in critical condition and experiencing sudden systemic failure, delaying proper medical screening is the most dangerous thing you could possibly do. A toxicology screen and blood chemistry panel are standard diagnostic procedures designed entirely to ensure her safety. The hospital is not trying to cover anything up. We are trying to find the clinical root of her symptoms so she can receive proper, targeted treatment."​"Don't you try to sweet-talk your way out of this, you murderous quack!" the burly man wailed at the top of his lungs, slapping his own thighs in an exaggerated display of dramatic mis

​Liam hung up, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticked. He dialed a second time, but the call was disconnected after two rings, as if someone had deliberately pressed the red button to reject his call.​A dark, heavy irritation settled in his chest. "Refusing to pick up my calls now?" Liam whispered bitterly to himself. "You send paid con artists to ruin my reputation at work, and you don't even have the courage to face me?"​He raised his arm and hailed a passing yellow taxi. Slipping into the backseat, he gave the driver the address of the Harrington estate’s private villa. If Chloe was hiding behind her lawyers and refusing to communicate like a civilized adult, he would go directly to the house, pack the rest of his medical books and personal clothes, and throw the drafted divorce decree right onto her desk once and for all.​The taxi navigated through the afternoon city traffic, leaving the bustling commercial center behind and winding into the quiet, affluent hillside distric

​Liam stood frozen in the middle of the master bedroom, the heavy smartphone still clutched in his trembling fingers. Listening to Julian Wade lecture him with such unearned, high-society arrogance, Liam felt completely and utterly speechless for several long seconds.​The sheer absurdity of the entire situation hit him like a physical blow. He had spent seven years waking up at five in the morning to prepare fresh, organic breakfasts, hand-stewing medicinal herbal tonics to soothe Chloe’s chronic stomach cramps, ironing her designer business suits, and gently massaging her temples whenever she returned from corporate banquets with pounding migraines. He had thrown away a once-in-a-generation surgical career under the nation's top medical authority solely to be her protective domestic anchor. Yet now, an arrogant young man barely out of university was standing beside his disheveled wife in their private marital bedroom, boldly declaring that Liam had "not been caring enough" and that