Chapter 8
Three weeks into the acquisition process, Dominic did something unexpected.
He showed up at my office with no warning and no lawyers. Just himself—looking like he hadn't slept in days.
My assistant looked panicked. "Dr. Voss, I'm so sorry, he just walked past—"
"It's fine, James. Close the door."
Dominic stood in the center of my office, and this time there was no anger on his face. No accusation. Just exhaustion, deep and raw.
"I found the hospital records."
My blood went cold.
"Excuse me?"
"From a year ago. The surgery you had." He swallowed hard. "The kidney donation."
I didn't move.
"Vivian's medical file lists a donor. The blood type matches yours. The surgical date matches a week you told me you were visiting a spa retreat."
His voice cracked on the last word.
"You gave my girlfriend your kidney. And I—" He pressed his fist against his forehead. "I signed the consent as your emergency contact without even reading what it was for."
The room felt airless.
"Elena, did you almost die on that table?"
I said nothing.
"Answer me."
"Yes."
He made a sound—low, guttural, like something was being ripped out of him.
"And Vivian knew? She knew and she still—"
"She orchestrated it." My voice came out flat. Clinical. "Her kidney function was fine. The medical reports were falsified. She wanted me gone without getting her hands dirty."
Dominic backed into the wall like his legs had given out.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"When would I have told you? Between the times you told me I was pathetic, or the times you left my bed to go to hers?"
He flinched like I'd struck him.
"You were my wife—"
"I was your placeholder." I stood and walked to the window, putting distance between us. "A warm body to satisfy a contract clause. You told me that yourself on our wedding night."
"I didn't mean—"
"You said: 'This is business, Elena. Don't make it personal.'" I turned to face him. "I spent three years making it personal anyway. And it killed me."
His eyes were red. I'd never seen Dominic Ashford cry—not at his mother's funeral, not when his company started bleeding money.
But right now, there was something wet on his lashes that he kept blinking away.
"I'm withdrawing the contest on the divorce," he said, his voice rough. "I'll sign everything. You can have—whatever you want."
"I don't want anything from you."
"The company—"
"Isn't about you. It's about my mother."
He nodded slowly. Then he looked at me—really looked. The way he never had in three years.
"You were dying," he whispered. "Right in front of me. And I didn't see it."
I held his gaze.
"No. You didn't."
He left without another word. And this time, watching him walk away felt like nothing at all.
That night, I slept without dreaming for the first time since I was reborn.
But the peace didn't last.
At 3 AM, my phone rang. Marcus.
"Elena, you need to get to the hospital. It's Dominic."
My heart stopped despite itself.
"What happened?"
"He confronted Vivian tonight. There was an argument. She—" Marcus's voice broke. "She had someone run his car off the road."
---
He showed up at my office with no warning and no lawyers. Just himself—looking like he hadn't slept in days.
My assistant looked panicked. "Dr. Voss, I'm so sorry, he just walked past—"
"It's fine, James. Close the door."
Dominic stood in the center of my office, and this time there was no anger on his face. No accusation. Just exhaustion, deep and raw.
"I found the hospital records."
My blood went cold.
"Excuse me?"
"From a year ago. The surgery you had." He swallowed hard. "The kidney donation."
I didn't move.
"Vivian's medical file lists a donor. The blood type matches yours. The surgical date matches a week you told me you were visiting a spa retreat."
His voice cracked on the last word.
"You gave my girlfriend your kidney. And I—" He pressed his fist against his forehead. "I signed the consent as your emergency contact without even reading what it was for."
The room felt airless.
"Elena, did you almost die on that table?"
I said nothing.
"Answer me."
"Yes."
He made a sound—low, guttural, like something was being ripped out of him.
"And Vivian knew? She knew and she still—"
"She orchestrated it." My voice came out flat. Clinical. "Her kidney function was fine. The medical reports were falsified. She wanted me gone without getting her hands dirty."
Dominic backed into the wall like his legs had given out.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"When would I have told you? Between the times you told me I was pathetic, or the times you left my bed to go to hers?"
He flinched like I'd struck him.
"You were my wife—"
"I was your placeholder." I stood and walked to the window, putting distance between us. "A warm body to satisfy a contract clause. You told me that yourself on our wedding night."
"I didn't mean—"
"You said: 'This is business, Elena. Don't make it personal.'" I turned to face him. "I spent three years making it personal anyway. And it killed me."
His eyes were red. I'd never seen Dominic Ashford cry—not at his mother's funeral, not when his company started bleeding money.
But right now, there was something wet on his lashes that he kept blinking away.
"I'm withdrawing the contest on the divorce," he said, his voice rough. "I'll sign everything. You can have—whatever you want."
"I don't want anything from you."
"The company—"
"Isn't about you. It's about my mother."
He nodded slowly. Then he looked at me—really looked. The way he never had in three years.
"You were dying," he whispered. "Right in front of me. And I didn't see it."
I held his gaze.
"No. You didn't."
He left without another word. And this time, watching him walk away felt like nothing at all.
That night, I slept without dreaming for the first time since I was reborn.
But the peace didn't last.
At 3 AM, my phone rang. Marcus.
"Elena, you need to get to the hospital. It's Dominic."
My heart stopped despite itself.
"What happened?"
"He confronted Vivian tonight. There was an argument. She—" Marcus's voice broke. "She had someone run his car off the road."
---