Chapter 2Operation Ruin My Unfaithful Wife

Dr. Aris let out a heavy sigh of relief, though his eyes darted uncomfortably around the room. "What on earth is going on? We got a Code Security. A theft."

The head of security stood there, red-faced and awkwardly lowering his radio.

Behind him, the nurses began to whisper, a few of them stifling nervous laughter.

"God, Dr. Giselle, you nearly gave us a heart attack."

"Look at her neck... Looks like Dr. Foster was trying to get lucky on his lunch break and she locked him out, so he called a fake code to get back at her!"

A couple of the braver surgical techs tried to peek around Giselle's defensive stance.

"Damn, Giselle, that must have been one hell of a nap," one joked. "You look like you went twelve rounds. Is Cam hiding under the surgical table?"

Giselle’s expression morphed from panic to sheer, desperate fury. She planted her feet, using her body to physically block the sightline into the room.

"This is completely inappropriate!" she yelled, her voice vibrating with panic. "This is a sterile environment! Everyone get back to work immediately!"

She shoved forward, pushing a young scrub nurse so hard the girl stumbled and fell hard onto the tile.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The playful mood vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp tension.

I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching her unravel. The quiet moments in a tragedy are always the most telling. The way her hands shook. The way she couldn't look me in the eye.

I stepped forward, my voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel.

"Giselle," I said, the syllables tasting foreign on my tongue. "Why are you so frantic?" I paused, letting the silence stretch. "Is there something... or someone... hiding in there that you don't want us to see?"

My voice wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be. Every pair of eyes in the hallway snapped to Giselle’s rapidly paling face.

She lunged forward, grabbing my forearm, her nails digging into my skin. "Cam, stop it. Just stop," she hissed, her eyes pleading. "Make them leave. I’ll go home tonight and explain everything."

I looked down at her hand on my arm. It felt like a contaminant. I ripped my arm away, stepping back as if she were infectious.

Before she could reach for me again, the frantic ding of the elevator echoed down the hall.

"Giselle! Oh my god, my baby!"

My mother-in-law, Donna, came sprinting down the hall, practically dragging Gary behind her. She threw herself at Giselle, patting her down, her face twisted in theatrical agony.

"Cam texted us! He said you collapsed! Look at how pale you are!"

Gary flanked her, breathless. "Giselle, what happened? Is it your heart?"

Giselle looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. "Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?" She shot me a look of pure, venomous hatred. "I'm fine! I didn't collapse!"

I met her glare with dead, hollow eyes. Yes. I called them.

Once Donna realized her daughter wasn't dying, the matriarchal concern instantly calcified into rage. She rounded on me, jabbing a finger into my chest. "What is wrong with you, Cam?! Texting us garbage like that! You nearly gave Gary a heart attack!"

"Exactly," Gary grunted, adjusting his belt. "She's perfectly fine. Why the hell are you cursing my daughter, saying she passed out?"