Chapter 31

Ethan Roscente froze at Vivian Laurent's sudden outburst. His knuckles turned white from gripping his fists too tightly.

The ink on their divorce papers had long dried.

What right did he have to question his ex-wife's life?

Yet an inexplicable fury burned hotter in his chest—especially when he saw Vivian smiling at that man.

"I was just worried about you," Ethan said, his voice rough.

Vivian scoffed, her eyes sharp with mockery. "How noble of you, Mr. Roscente."

She turned to leave, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

"Vivian!" Ethan grabbed her wrist. "I divorced you so you could live better, not to end up in places like—"

"Places like what?" She yanked her hand free. "You're here too, aren't you?"

Across the lounge, Lucas Lefèvre stood up, his gaze wary.

Ethan's throat tightened. He wanted to say it was different, but the words died in a sigh.

"I'm fine," Vivian said, stepping back. "Don't bother."

As she turned, the ends of her hair brushed his fingertips, carrying the faint scent of jasmine.

Lucas approached. "Everything okay?"

"What can he do?" Vivian downed her drink in one gulp. "Eat me alive?"

The bottom of the glass reflected her reddened eyes.

Ethan stood rooted in place, watching Vivian surrounded by friends. She laughed freely, tiny creases forming at the corners of her eyes.

This was exactly what he wanted for her.

"Ethan?" Felix Valdemar cautiously approached.

"Drinks." Ethan strode to the nearest booth—directly facing Vivian's table.

He saw her suddenly excuse herself, heard her say, "Work tomorrow."

Work? His brow furrowed. He pulled out his phone and texted Simon Eisner: "Find out what Vivian's been up to."

In the hospital hallway, Chloe Ashcroft slammed a coffee cup onto the desk in front of Vivian.

"Get me an Americano."

Vivian didn’t look up from the medical chart. "Caffeine causes tremors."

"You—!" Chloe's cheeks flushed with anger. "A mere intern dares—"

"Even interns prioritize patient safety." Vivian snapped the file shut. "Unless Dr. Ashcroft lacks that basic knowledge—"

Chloe snatched the chart from her hands. "Who do you think you are?!"

Papers scattered across the floor as the chart went flying.

Vivian knelt to gather them one by one. Her nails dug into her palms, but she flashed a flawless smile at the security camera.

"Dr. Ashcroft," she said softly, "your surgery is scheduled for 3 PM."

Chloe stormed off in her stilettos.

Vivian slammed the chart onto the desk, sending a pen clattering to the ground.