New York City | Monday Morning | St. Adelaide Medical Center
Violet straightened the ID badge on her lab coat, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her usually calm eyes looked clouded. Her lipstick, a soft rose shade, barely masked the tension twisting her features.
You’ve faced worse than this, she reminded herself. Kidnappers. Blood. Screaming patients. Night shifts without coffee.
But none of that compared to the reality of facing Bryan Hawthorne again — not as his wife, but as a stranger working under his command.
He doesn’t recognize you, she thought. He never really saw you to begin with.
She walked briskly down the corridor, stethoscope in hand, her heels clicking with authority. Doctors and nurses nodded in greeting — unaware of the storm brewing behind her composed face.
Then she saw it.
The bracelet.
Silver. Emerald. Carved with the spiral only she knew by heart. It shimmered on Rebecca’s wrist like a stolen crown.
Violet’s breath caught.
Her eyes darted to Rebecca — who was leaning against a wall near the nurse’s station, twirling a pen and laughing softly at something Albert said. When she spotted Violet, her smile turned into a smirk.
“Well, well,” Rebecca cooed, stepping forward. “The hospital’s little miracle worker. We meet again.”
Violet folded her arms. “That bracelet. Where did you get it?”
Rebecca tilted her head. “Why? Interested?”
“It’s mine.”
“Oh no,” she said sweetly, brushing her fingers over the metal. “Bryan gave it to me. After our... special night together.”
Violet’s stomach turned, but she stood her ground.
“He didn’t give it to you. You took it.”
“You think you’re the only woman Bryan’s ever touched?” Rebecca said, too close now, her breath heavy with smugness. “He doesn’t even know you exist, Violet.”
Violet's jaw clenched. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”
Rebecca leaned in, whispering coldly, “Don’t test me. He’s mine now. Or haven’t you heard? The divorce is official next week.”
Before Violet could respond, a deep, commanding voice interrupted.
“Rebecca,” Bryan said, stepping out of the elevator.
Violet turned instinctively — and froze.
He looked like he stepped out of a magazine cover. Black three-piece suit, silver cufflinks, jaw dusted with stubble, those piercing grey eyes scanning the room like he owned it.
Then his gaze landed on Violet — and for the briefest moment, something flickered.
Recognition?
But no. It passed too quickly.
“Let’s talk,” he said to Rebecca.
Rebecca beamed, brushing past Violet with a triumphant grin.
He still doesn’t know.
Later that day…
The surgical wing was quiet — only the humming of machines and faint pages over the intercom.
Violet stood outside the OR, checking the file for her next consult.
“Dr. Hawthorne,” someone said from behind her.
She turned.
Bryan stood there, alone this time.
Dr. Hawthorne, she realized. He must’ve read her badge.
He extended a hand. “I’m told you’re one of our best. Your patient outcomes are impressive.”
She hesitated, then shook his hand. So warm... So familiar... She swallowed. “Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne.”
There was a beat of silence.
“You remind me of someone,” he said suddenly. “It’s strange.”
Violet’s heart raced. “People say I have a common face.”
He tilted his head, studying her.
“No. It’s more than that.”
She turned back to the file. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a consult—”
“Wait,” he said, softer now. “Do you like red velvet cake?”
Her heart stopped.
She looked up slowly.
“Why?”
“No reason,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just remember... someone. From a long time ago. She smelled like coffee and red velvet.”
You idiot, Violet thought bitterly. That was me.
But all she said was, “Sounds like someone memorable.”
Bryan nodded.
“She was.”
Meanwhile...
Elena stormed into Violet’s apartment, arms flailing.
“You are not going to believe what I just found out!” she shouted. “Rebecca lied to Bryan! And get this — the guy she actually slept with wasn’t even Bryan!”
Violet blinked. “What?”
“She drugged herself and you! Some kind of twisted plan to make Bryan fall for her. But she ended up in the wrong room — with a stranger!”
Violet’s eyes widened. “Who?”
“Elena,” Violet said. “I need to know.”
“I think...” Elena hesitated. “I think it was John.”
“John Hawthorne? His stepbrother?”
Elena nodded. “Crazy, right? But Bryan still thinks it was her who gave him her virginity. He’s... trying to make things right.”
Violet sat down slowly.
“He’s trying to make things right... with the wrong woman.”