Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 78

Charlotte had just settled back into her office chair when a man appeared at the door, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you Dr. Sterling?" he asked.

"Yes, that's me." Charlotte stood up and offered a polite smile. "Are you a family member of one of our inpatients, or—"

She didn't get to finish. Without warning, the man hurled a liquid at her.

Caught completely off guard, Charlotte gasped in shock, unable to dodge. The commotion drew people from the hallway.

"Dr. Sterling!" Vera rushed to the office as soon as she heard the cry, arriving just in time to see the man stumble out and run straight into her.

Vera grabbed his arm and shouted, "Someone, help! Call security!"

The man twisted violently, face twisted with rage. "Let me go, or I swear I'll kill you!"

Two doctors and a couple of nurses came sprinting down the corridor, already dialing for security.

Within moments, guards had tackled the man to the ground. One of the doctors called the police.

Inside the office, Charlotte had collapsed onto the floor. Her eyes burned fiercely, streaming with tears; she couldn't open them. The air was thick with a sharp, acrid smell—it was pepper spray.

…

News of the attack reached Dean Chase quickly. By the time he rushed to Charlotte's room, she'd already been treated by ophthalmology, but her eyes were still clenched shut, unable to bear the light.

Vera, who'd been keeping a watchful vigil by her side, stood up as the dean entered. "Dean."

"Lottie, what happened?" he asked, concern furrowing his brow.

Charlotte gripped the edge of the blanket. "I don't know. I've never seen that man before."

Vera filled in the rest. "We've already checked the security footage, Dean. He's not related to any of our patients—just someone from outside. Thank goodness it was only pepper spray. If it had been something worse, Dr. Sterling could have been blinded… or worse."

The memory sent a shudder through Charlotte. Vera was right—if it hadn't been pepper spray, but some more dangerous chemical, she might have been left disfigured, or lost her sight entirely.

Tricia was meeting with Mrs. Fontaine, transferring the promised money in person.

Mrs. Fontaine's face lit up as the funds landed in her account, but worry flickered in her eyes as she remembered her husband, still being held at the station. "Miss Winthrop, about my husband—?"

"He should consider himself lucky he's not in prison," Tricia replied without hesitation. "Don't worry, it's only a month in holding. I'll make sure he keeps his job."

Mrs. Fontaine believed her without a second thought, and rose to leave—only to be stopped at the door.

She turned, puzzled. "Is there something else, Miss Winthrop?"

"Today's events have nothing to do with us. I trust you'll remember that—what should and shouldn't be said, I expect you know."

Mrs. Fontaine grinned, swearing, "Of course, you can count on me. That fool's not right in the head. Even if the police investigate, who's going to believe a word from someone like that?"

Hearing this, Tricia finally relaxed.