Three years ago, my husband, Liam West, died because of me. I was ruined, stripped of my medical license. His dream girl, Bianca Hayes, took over my position and basked in the admiration of others. Three years later, I ran into my supposedly dead husband at the hospital. I trembled as I called out his name, but he only looked at me with confusion. “Who are you?” he asked. ***** When Liam, the husband I thought had died three years ago, appeared before me, I was on my knees polishing someone’s shoes. He was holding Bianca close as they came for her prenatal checkup. At first, I didn’t dare believe it was him. I hid behind a pillar, watching him for what felt like an eternity. But I couldn’t stop myself—I ran toward him, grabbed his hand, and asked over and over if he was Liam. Tears streamed down my face, unstoppable, as if a floodgate had been opened. But the man in front of me remained cold and distant, staring at me like I was a stranger. He pushed me away and wrapped his arm protectively around Bianca. “Who are you?” he said coldly. Bianca shot me a disdainful glance and then smirked. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten—your husband’s dead, remember? What are you doing grabbing my husband? Have you no shame?” I stumbled backward, shoved aside like trash. “What are you doing here? Get back to mopping!” The cleaning supervisor kicked me to the ground, and I rolled helplessly to a stop right at Liam’s feet. He looked me over with disdain, his gaze sweeping from my hunched figure to my gnarled hands and wrinkled face. Then he smirked, full of mockery. Bianca emerged with her test results, clicking her tongue in disgust as she stomped right across my hand. Pain shot through me, sharp and searing. I cried out, “Liam!” But he didn’t even look back. He opened the car door and drove off without a second thought. The head nurse, who had never liked me, walked over with a sneer. She grabbed my ear between her fingers and twisted cruelly. “What’s the matter? Still think you’re some kind of top-notch heart surgeon, Dr. Lena Foster? Get it through your head—you’re just a janitor now. And if you keep slacking off, you can kiss even this job goodbye.” Her spit sprayed across my face as she berated me. A few onlookers who didn’t know the whole story tried to speak up for me, asking the nurse to go easier on me. But she only laughed scornfully. She eagerly began recounting my past. “Don’t you know about the infamous ‘Doctor Murderer’? That’s her! She used her own husband as a test subject for an experimental surgery and ended up killing him on the operating table. A cold-blooded monster—she deserves everything she’s going through now!” Suddenly, the scandal that had haunted me three years ago resurfaced in vivid detail. The crowd’s accusing eyes bore into me, and I fled in panic, running until I reached my tiny rented room. Inside, I tended to my injured hand, tears streaming down as I stared at my deformed fingers. Once, these hands had saved countless lives. But one failed surgery had cost me my husband, my career, and my dignity. Now, whenever it rained or the cold wind blew, my hands ached unbearably, as if the chill had settled in my joints. After the failed surgery, social media went into a frenzy, stirring up outrage that led to an attack by Liam’s extremist netizens. His parents were there, but they didn’t stop them. They just stood by, watching as I was beaten. They screamed at me, calling me a murderer, blaming me for their son’s death. That day, my hands were permanently ruined. But the truth? Liam had developed sepsis after surgery because his parents insisted on transferring him to another hospital against medical advice. Yet they told the media it was my fault—that I was trying to shift the blame. Their grief was so convincing, their lies so well-spun, that the media turned me into public enemy number one. I lost my job, my license, and any shred of respect I’d ever had in the field. Once the best in my profession, I was now treated like a pariah. Even companies that weren’t connected to medicine refused to hire me, terrified of the media backlash. Still, I couldn’t let go of the doubts I had about that surgery. That was when Bianca recommended this janitorial job to me. I knew she wasn’t being kind. She just wanted to see me humiliated. But I accepted the job anyway—because I needed answers about what really happened that day. For three years, I never blamed Liam’s parents. Guilt over his death kept me silent, even as I worked multiple jobs to support them financially. And yet, here he was—alive. Married to Bianca, the woman he’d always longed for. Had the surgery accident been an elaborate setup all along? The thought terrified me, but I couldn’t stop my mind from spiraling with questions.
The next morning, out of habit, I got up early to make breakfast for Liam’s bedridden father. When I opened the door, the stench inside was overwhelming. The once-arrogant old man had long since lost his former vigor. Yet even now, he pointed at me, muttering hoarsely through his half-paralyzed mouth, “Bitch! Bitch!” I set the food down in front of him and began to feed him. But for every bite I gave him, he spat it right back out. Usually, I’d patiently wipe his mouth and keep trying until the meal was done. But today, as images of Liam and Bianca flashed through my mind—their jewelry, their laughter—I snapped. I thought of the millions of dollars I’d paid in damages after that surgery. Money I’d scraped together from my life savings and borrowed from my parents. Money that had left my family bankrupt, my parents dead from the shame of it all. Furious, I shoved the hot porridge into his mouth. “Don’t like it? Tough!” I shouted. He coughed violently, spitting the porridge all over me. It was sticky, disgusting. I stormed off to the tiny bathroom to change and wash up. While I was in the middle of changing, I heard voices outside. For a moment, I froze, thinking it might be a burglar. I pressed my ear to the door and listened carefully. “Liam!” It was his mother, her voice choked with tears. My entire body tensed. Liam was here? So they knew he wasn’t dead. Rage bubbled up inside me as I listened. “Mom, I told you not to come looking for me. What if Lena finds out?” Liam’s voice was cold, impatient. “I just thought that now you’re back from overseas, it wouldn’t matter anymore. And besides, Lena’s just a janitor now!” Her voice broke as she began to cry, telling him how hard things had been for them because of my neglect. Liam snapped, “Lena Foster, that bitch! How could she abandon you two like this? You’re her in-laws! And after everything, she nearly killed me with that surgery. How could she just leave you?” “She’s nothing compared to Bianca,” his mother wailed. “If Bianca hadn’t come up with the idea for you to fake your death, swindle Lena out of money, and go abroad for further studies, we’d still be dirt poor!” I cracked the door open just enough to see Liam clap a hand over his mother’s mouth. “Don’t ever bring that up again,” he hissed. “As far as everyone else is concerned, I’m dead. Don’t let Lena find out. I saw her at the hospital the other day. She called out to me, but I pretended not to recognize her. You’d better not blow my cover!” His mother nodded obediently. Liam glanced around, pinching his nose at the smell of the house, and then shot a disgusted look at his drooling, incapacitated father. “I’m leaving,” he said curtly. “Bianca’s in her third trimester. She needs me.” With that, he hurried out the door. His mother trailed after him, calling out for him to stay a little longer. When I finally stepped out, his father was still flailing his arms, pointing at me. It didn’t matter what he was saying. I already knew he was cursing me. That was all he ever did. I glanced at the security camera I’d installed to monitor him, just in case he ever fell. Now, it would serve a different purpose. I retrieved the footage chip and packed up all my belongings from the house, including the money I’d been leaving for Liam’s mother. As I moved to leave, his father flailed more violently, his eyes wide with rage. “Farewell,” I said bitterly. “I’m never stepping foot in this house again.”
After leaving, I began scouring the internet for any trace of Liam. I quickly realized how cautious he’d been. If I hadn’t known him for over a decade—if I hadn’t spent five years sharing a bed with him—I might not have recognized him at all. He still used the same name, but his aura was completely different. The delivery boy-turned-vlogger I used to know was long gone. Now, he was the vice president of a multinational company under Bianca’s mother’s empire. As I looked closer, I noticed subtle changes in his features—his nose and eyes had undergone minor cosmetic surgery. It wasn’t drastic, but it was enough to make him seem like an entirely new person. To make matters worse, he and Bianca had done an exclusive interview, painting him as a doting, devoted husband. Their so-called love story had gone viral, with countless videos romanticizing their relationship and his personal account gaining millions of followers. All of it was built on my suffering. Years ago, Liam’s parents forced me to sell my house and use the proceeds to “compensate” them. At the time, I’d wondered why they still seemed so destitute despite the massive payout. I assumed they were simply hoarding the money. Now I realized it must’ve all gone to Liam. After all, marrying into Bianca’s wealthy family required more than just love—it demanded resources. Fully aware of how much they’d exploited me, I decided to dig deeper. Using Liam’s old identification details, I investigated the crematorium records. Sure enough, no man by his name had been cremated three years ago. I also unearthed footage from interviews his parents gave at the time, where they swore they’d personally escorted his body to the crematorium. Watching it now, I couldn’t help but marvel at their malice. The husband who had shared my life for years had been scheming to destroy me all along. My hands shook as I thought about it, and I accidentally dropped the rag I’d been holding. It landed squarely on Bianca’s foot as she came to check on me. Her face twisted in fury, and she slapped me hard. “Are you blind? Do you want to die? Lick my shoe clean!” I bent down, picked up her dropped test report, and noticed something instantly—her unborn child had been diagnosed with congenital heart defects. It was genetic. Liam had the same condition. Handing the report back to her, I said, “Lick it yourself. I don’t have that kind of fetish.” Her face turned beet red. “You murderer! What are you so smug about? You’re just a janitor now. You’ll do whatever I tell you to!” “Let me remind you, being a janitor doesn’t make me your servant. Get over yourself.” Bianca lunged toward me, seething, but she quickly ran out of breath. Liam appeared just in time to hold her back. “Apologize to my wife!” he demanded. I looked up at him, locking eyes. In that moment, I caught a flicker of fear in his gaze. He was afraid of me. I shook my head. “I said, apologize to my wife! Are you deaf?” he shouted. I met his fury with a calm smile. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize? Now move.” I pushed past him, but before I could take another step, Bianca suddenly collapsed. Doctors rushed to her side, and I glanced back, immediately recognizing the problem. The complications with her pregnancy were severe. Given her condition and the baby’s heart defect, only a combined cardiac and obstetric surgery could save them. But the odds weren’t good. With this type of congenital defect, there was a 99% chance both mother and child wouldn’t survive. Back then, I hadn’t had the chance to fully research the condition, and to this day, no one has been able to perform the surgery perfectly. Bianca was wheeled into surgery, and the attending doctors looked at Liam, their faces filled with uncertainty. “What are you waiting for? Save her!” he yelled. Carter, the lead cardiac surgeon, hesitated. “Mr. West, no one’s performed a successful operation like this in years. Research on this type of surgery stopped three years ago.” “Why? Aren’t you doctors? Why haven’t you researched it?” Liam’s eyes reddened as panic overtook him. Carter glanced at me and then back at Liam. “After Dr. Foster’s incident, all studies related to this procedure were suspended. As of now, the only person qualified to operate is…” “Who?” Liam grabbed Carter by the arm, shaking him. “Who’s the only person qualified?” Carter’s gaze landed squarely on me. “Dr. Foster.” Before Liam could say anything, hospital security appeared and blocked his path. “Ms. Lena Foster, we’ve received a report accusing you of stealing surgical equipment. Please come with us.”
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