Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 3

Evander looked genuinely taken aback when she brought up divorce. His expression darkened even further. "I won't agree to a divorce."

Charlotte froze, momentarily stunned.-

He refused… Did that mean—

Before she could finish the thought, he continued, "Grandma Rosemary wouldn't agree, either."

Then came the sharp click of the door closing.

Charlotte stood rooted to the spot for a long time, her heart heavy and sodden, as if someone had stuffed it full of damp cotton. The idea she'd entertained moments ago suddenly felt laughable.

He wasn't refusing the divorce for her sake.

He just didn't want to upset Grandma Rosemary.

But the sad thing was, he didn't know Grandma had already given her blessing.

That night, the two parted on cold terms, retreating to separate rooms. The next morning, after the housekeeper arrived, Evander was already gone.

Charlotte ate breakfast alone, feigning indifference. The housekeeper emerged after tidying up, frowning slightly. "Ma'am, why does it feel like there's so much less stuff in the house today?"

Charlotte paused mid-bite.

Even the housekeeper had noticed.

He hadn't even bothered to ask.

It couldn't be more obvious how little he cared.

She forced a smile. "Everything was getting old, so I tossed it out. Nothing important."

The housekeeper didn't press further.

Around noon, Charlotte received a call from the hospital director. There was a critical surgery—life and death—yet the neurosurgeon was out of town, and only she could do it.

Charlotte hurried to the hospital, changed into scrubs, and stepped into the trauma room. The air reeked of blood and urgency; all the attending physicians were present, including Tricia.

Unlike the others, who crowded around the patient to assess the injuries, Tricia stayed back, looking green and swallowing nausea.

"Dr. Sterling, you're here." The anesthesiologist approached her quickly. "Patient fell at a construction site. Just brought in—still unconscious."

Charlotte glanced at the patient and couldn't help but draw a sharp breath.

A twenty-centimeter steel rod had pierced the man's skull, entering through the eye. Miraculously, though he was comatose, his vital signs persisted. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Tricia fought back her queasiness. "Dr. Sterling, are you sure you can handle this? One wrong move and he's dead."

Charlotte headed straight to the director's office.

Dean Chase's eyes lit up when he heard the surgery was a success. "Lottie, we owe you everything for this one."

"It wasn't just me," she said, smiling. "The team worked together flawlessly, and the patient was incredibly lucky. If that rod had hit a critical structure, not even a miracle worker could have saved him."

Dean Chase nodded, then tried once more to persuade her. "Are you really sure about your transfer? Wouldn't you reconsider?"

He had seen her talent firsthand—not only the youngest lead surgeon, but a woman, which was still rare in their field. Riverspire was a small city, and their hospital couldn't compete with the benefits and prestige of The Capital. For her to give all that up… It was a real loss.

Charlotte shook her head with a gentle smile. "My mind's made up, sir. But if you ever need anything, just give me a call. If I'm free, I'll always come back to help."

At that, Dean Chase relented, no longer trying to sway her.

As she left his office, she saw Evander striding toward her, long-legged and purposeful.

She stopped, about to speak.

He brushed past, barely meeting her eyes. "Dr. Sterling, I need a word."

Charlotte followed him out to the balcony. She was exhausted after the marathon surgery, and it showed on her face. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Why did you target Tricia in the operating room?"