Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 300

“As long as you keep your head down and play it smart, forget about that eight million—just using his name, you could easily work your way into high society and snag yourself a rich husband. That’s your ticket up the social ladder.” Tricia gave her shoulder a quick pat. “I need a hundred thousand, and I want to see it in my account by the day after tomorrow.”

Once Tricia headed upstairs, Loretta clenched her hands without realizing it.

A hundred thousand, and she still dares to claim she’s not after their money!

But even as resentment simmered inside her, Loretta knew she could only grit her teeth and swallow it for now.

Right now, she had to focus on figuring out how to get that money out of her father.

Two days later.

Sunlight filtered through the thick green canopy in the park, breaking into a thousand shimmering fragments that danced across the ground. Hiram sat in his wheelchair, with Charlotte behind him, guiding him slowly along the winding path.

Evander’s bodyguard and two nurses followed at a discreet distance.

Charlotte brought the wheelchair to a halt by the edge of a deep blue man-made lake and crouched down beside him. “You’ve been bedridden for so long. It’s good to get some sunshine—help your body recover. The view here is beautiful. I think you’ll like it.”

Hiram blinked, slowly and deliberately.

He’d been comatose for so long that his brain was still recovering. He couldn’t speak, nor could he stand yet.

But at least he could understand her.

Charlotte smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—Judd was calling.

One of the nurses stepped forward and said, “Mrs. Howard, we can take care of Mr. Sterling from here.”

Charlotte nodded, handed him over, and stepped away to answer the call.

She hurried to the hospital, changed into her scrubs, and headed to the internal medicine wing for her shift. Nearly every exam room was packed with patients.

There were more than a dozen follow-up cases alone, not counting new patients—the corridor outside was crowded and restless.

Charlotte pushed open the door to find Judd working alone, while outside, the line for consultations stretched endlessly down the hall.

She slipped into her seat and whispered, “Sorry I’m late.”

Gentry and Charlotte stared at him in shock.

“Professor Carstairs, you can’t be serious—you… you can’t be near blood!”

Judd didn’t answer. He just looked at Charlotte. “I’ll assist you.”

Charlotte could see he meant it. In a crisis, there was no time to hesitate. She nodded.

They both changed into surgical gowns and hurried to the operating room.

Inside, the medical staff gaped in disbelief. “Dr. Carstairs, you…”

“There’s a life at stake. That’s all that matters right now.”

Judd reviewed the patient’s file and scans, formulating a surgical plan within three minutes.

For Charlotte, this would be her first surgery since her injury—and the first time she doubted her own hands.

Suddenly, Judd stepped behind her and gently took her right hand in his.