Chapter 1

I had just been wheeled out of the operating room. The anesthesia hadn't even fully worn off yet.

Suddenly, Eleanor slammed a medical report violently onto my face.

"Look at this! It says right here in black and white that you have HIV! You dirty, cheating slut!"

"You tried to save my daughter with your contaminated blood? Are you trying to kill our entire family?!"

She slapped me so hard my ears rang. Her long nails scratched right across my cheek.

Shaking from the excruciating pain, I looked at my husband, Julian Sterling, who was standing nearby.

He was disgustingly wiping his hands with a handkerchief, as if he had touched trash.

"Get her to the quarantine ward immediately. Don't let her contaminate the Sterling family's name."

At that moment, my heart completely died.

Enduring the ripping pain from my surgical incision, I forced myself to sit up and picked up the blood-stained report.

"Eleanor, your eyesight must be getting worse."

I pointed at the patient name on the diagnosis line and thrust the paper right in front of her eyes.

"The name on this report is yours. You are the one with HIV."

"And according to this, you've been infected for five years."

"Bullshit!"

Eleanor lunged forward to grab the report from my hand.

I gripped the paper tightly and shrank back. My back hit the metal surgical cart, sending a tearing pain through my fresh incision. Cold sweat instantly soaked my hospital gown.

But I didn't let go.

"Eleanor, look at it. It’s written clearly right here—Patient Name: Eleanor Sterling."

I read it out word by word. My voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet hallway, the only other sound was the steady, eerie ticking of the heart monitor.

"Eleanor Sterling. That’s your name, isn't it?"

Eleanor froze.

For the first time, a crack of pure panic appeared on her always-impeccable, heavily made-up face.

But it only lasted a second.

She quickly regained her haughty expression and sneered.

"Did the anesthesia rot your brain? This report fell out of your medical chart. Of course it's yours! You must have forged the name. Do you think I'm stupid?"

Julian finally spoke, not even deigning to look me in the eye.

"Enough, Nora. Stop making a fool of yourself. If you’re feeling guilty, just sign the divorce papers and get out."

"Me? Guilty?"

My lips turned pale from the pain. I pointed to the barcode in the bottom right corner of the report.

"Every medical report has a unique electronic barcode. Scan it, and we’ll know exactly whose database record it pulls up. Julian, you're the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar tech conglomerate. Surely you have that basic level of common sense?"

His hand paused. A flicker of doubt crossed his eyes.

Eleanor immediately shrieked.

"Julian! You can't possibly believe this lying bitch! She’s just trying to deflect!"

"Eleanor, let’s just scan it," Julian frowned. His tone was still firmly on his mother's side. "Once we scan it and prove it's hers, she won't have any more excuses."

He pulled out his phone and scanned the barcode.

The hallway fell into a suffocating three-second silence.

I watched his face change from cold indifference to utter confusion, and then to a deathly, unreadable pale.

"What is it?" Eleanor prodded him anxiously. "Is there a system error? The equipment in this cheap hospital is probably outdated."

Julian didn't say a word. He slowly turned the screen toward Eleanor.

*Patient Information: Eleanor Sterling, Female, 57 years old. Test Item: HIV Antibody Confirmatory Test, Positive. Infection Stage: Clinical stage, estimated duration of infection: no less than five years.*

Eleanor’s lips trembled. She snatched the phone from him, her fingers clutching it so hard she looked ready to crack the screen.

"This is impossible! This bitch must have rigged the system! She set me up while she was admitted!"

She spun around, her finger almost poking my nose.

"You scheming gold-digger! You married into our family just to ruin us!"

"Eleanor, an HIV confirmatory test requires a blood draw and has to be verified by the state health department's central database. I’m just a patient. How could I possibly hack into the state healthcare system to fake your records?"

I looked up, staring straight into her panicking eyes.

"If you think this report is fake, why don’t we call the nurse right now to draw your blood and test you again? On the spot."

"Do you dare?"

The corridor fell into a dead silence.

Eleanor’s hand was shaking. Not from anger—but from pure terror.

In that instant, I realized the truth.

She had known all along that she was infected. Her explosive rage, her throwing dirt on me, and her face-slapping weren't because she actually thought I was sick. It was because her own report had accidentally ended up in my chart, and she was terrified of being exposed.

So, she launched a preemptive strike.

"Get Ryan! Get Dr. Hayes here to explain this!" Eleanor’s voice suddenly turned shrill and desperate.

Dr. Ryan Hayes. He was Chloe's primary physician and the lead surgeon who had just performed my bone marrow extraction today.

Three minutes later, he appeared at the end of the hallway. Clad in a pristine white lab coat and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked every bit the distinguished university professor.

He quietly glanced at the screen of Julian's phone, and then he smiled smoothly.

"Mrs. Sterling, please don't worry. I know what happened here. Before the surgery today, the hospital IT system underwent a data migration. A few patient reports got mixed up. The tech team is already fixing it."

He pulled a document from his lab coat pocket and handed it to Julian.

"This is Nora Vance’s actual pre-op blood report. HIV Screening—Positive."

My brain went completely blank. I snatched the report from Julian's hands.

It indeed had my name and social security number printed on it. *HIV Screening: Positive.*

But I clearly remembered the nurse telling me before the surgery that my blood tests were completely normal and negative.

This wasn't my report.

"Nora, HIV screening has a window period error. That’s basic medical knowledge," Dr. Hayes adjusted his glasses. "I suggest you go to the infectious disease department for further testing. For now, you must stay in the secluded observation ward."

Julian’s tense expression relaxed. He would rather believe a convenient "system error" story than face the horrifying truth about his mother.

"Put her in isolation. Keep her away from Chloe until we have the final results."

Two burly orderlies grabbed my arms and dragged me down the hall. My surgical wound was bleeding, and my legs were too weak to stand.

"Julian! Check the serial number on that report! He forged it!"

Julian didn't turn back.

Instead, Dr. Hayes bent down and began whispering comfortingly to Eleanor. His hand was on her shoulder—too close, too intimate for a doctor comforting a patient's family member.

The orderlies threw me into a windowless, single holding room with a heavy metal door at the end of the hallway and locked it from the outside.

Through the door, I heard Eleanor lower her voice and whisper—

"Ryan, you have to help me cover this up. You must."