Chapter 1My Wife Sent Me to Cremation for Her First Love

Two speedboats collided, and I was left half-conscious, drowning in the open water. I was rushed to Riverside Memorial Hospital, where my wife, Serena Caldwell, worked.

Instead of saving me, Serena chose to focus her efforts on operating on her high school ex-boyfriend, who suffered a broken leg in a car accident. She signed the Cremation Authorization Form, effectively sealing my fate.

While I was being transported to Westbridge Funeral Home, she led her ex-boyfriend into the very emergency room meant for me.

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"Dr. Caldwell! This patient was in a boating accident near the coast. He can’t swim and was already unconscious when rescued. He needs immediate medical attention!"

Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I felt someone pry open my eyelids. Seconds later, I recognized the cold, clinical voice of my wife, Serena Caldwell.

"He’s brain dead. His body is deteriorating rapidly. There’s no point in continuing resuscitation."

"All of you, assist outside. A multi-car pileup just brought in a wave of trauma patients."

Brain dead? Deteriorating? I could still hear them. I was conscious!

Recognizing the familiar scent of her perfume, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and curled my finger around the fabric of her scrubs.

Serena, save me!

She immediately grabbed my hand, her touch momentarily giving me hope. But then, she shoved my hand back onto the bed.

She knows I’m conscious!

Before I could rejoice, her heels clicked as she stepped away. I heard her instruct the team:

“Prepare the OR. I’ll operate on Nathan Cross, the pileup victim with the fractured femur.”

Her words sent a chill through me. Nathan Cross—her high school sweetheart. They’d dated in the past, breaking up before college but staying “just friends.”

I had trusted Serena when she said she loved me, that she wanted to build a life together. But now, she had just declared me brain dead—so she could save Nathan instead.

"Dr. Caldwell," someone interjected, "According to protocol, we’re required to attempt resuscitation on all emergency arrivals. We also need consent from the patient’s family before discontinuing care. If his family challenges this later, the hospital could face serious consequences—"

"Bring me the forms," Serena cut him off. "I’m his wife. I am his family."

As I heard the swift scratching of pen on paper, alarms from a nearby monitor blared.

Minutes later, I heard Serena's detached voice.

"Patient Ethan Clarke. Time of death: September 17, 2024, 1:54 PM. Jamie, draft the death certificate immediately."

“Yes, Dr. Caldwell.”

It was absurd. I was alive! How could she declare me dead?

Something was wrong. The faint movement I had managed earlier was now gone—I couldn’t move at all.

What did Serena do to me?

"Hello, Westbridge Funeral Home? My husband just passed. I’d like to arrange a cremation. The death certificate? Yes, I have it…"

Her next words shattered my soul.

Not only did she abandon me—she wanted to cremate me.

When the death certificate arrived, Serena turned to someone nearby.

"Give me two minutes to say goodbye to my husband."

I heard footsteps recede. Then Serena leaned close, her breath brushing my ear.

"I’m sorry, Ethan. I can’t let Nathan lose his chance to walk again… I’m sorry…"

Her voice faded as I slipped further into the abyss. Faintly, I felt hands lifting my body and placing me into a vehicle.

“This guy isn’t stiff yet. We’ll keep him in cold storage until the wife finalizes the paperwork.”

“Man, he looks young. What a waste.”

Their conversation was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

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