His Intern Killed Our Babies

My husband, Dr. Arthur Rosslyn, a celebrated heart surgeon, had saved countless lives. But when our twins needed surgery, his hands failed. I held their ashes as he packed, claiming an emergency surgery called him away.

Their hearts were fatally flawed, Eleanor. Not even a miracle could have saved them.

That night, his anesthesiology intern, Amy, posted online: a photo of her hand clasped with a mans at Disneyland, captioned, My knight saved me after I botched the anesthesia. Another showed her kissing the mans jaw. Ten likes and Ill confess!

The scar on that jaw matched Arthurs. My shattered heart froze. I commented: No need for ten. The knights wife approves.

Arthur called instantly, angry. It was a stupid dare. Delete that comment or were divorcing.

I hung up. On the hospitals transfer list to our African branch, I added his name and Amys.

Reason: Gross Medical Negligence.

If youre so desperate to protect her, suffer together. How dare you be happy after killing my children?

Ten seconds later, Arthur sent a question mark. When I didnt reply, he followed up.

"Ill have the divorce papers sent over right now. If you insist on making a scene, then were through."

I finally responded with a simple: "Fine."

The "typing" notification appeared and disappeared several times, but he never sent anything else. I screenshotted Amy's Disneyland carousel and the medical incident, then sent them to him.

"Arthur, our children were killed because of her, werent they?"

All I received was a red exclamation mark. He had blocked me.

I went back to social media. Amys posts were gone, replaced by a solitary apology.

"A grateful patient, whose child we saved, treated us to dinner. We played a game after a few drinks, and I lost a dare. The patient's family member asked me to post a picture with a male colleague. Dr. Rosslyn only cooperated to spare me embarrassment. I apologize for any negative impact."

The accompanying image was a crying, bowing kitten.

Arthur commented below: "Don't worry, Amy. Ive got your back. Some people just want to bully you."

Beneath that, a string of replies:

"We all knew it was a joke! It was an awful dare from the patients family; we couldn't say no."

"Some people? Is he talking about Dr. Rosslyns wife? Poor Dr. Rosslyn, stuck with a crazy wife. Her children's death was just bad luck, but she keeps making a scene at the hospital, insisting Dr. Rosslyn and Amy killed them."

"Dr. Rosslyn is so impressive, protecting his own."

I smirked, noting every name, adding them all to the transfer list.

I founded this private hospital to help Arthur become a top cardiac surgeon. I invested heavily in funding and publicity. Now, he was indeed our chief surgeon, lauded by everyone, and his favored chief intern, Amy, basked in his reflected glory.

And I, the hospital's largest shareholder, was being trampled underfoot. They likely assumed I was madly in love with Arthur, that my hospital's success was thanks to him. They thought I wouldn't dare upset him, that both I and the hospital feared losing him.

They forgot. My hospital made him. Without him, I could cultivate many more chief specialists.

Amy responded to each comment with a smiling cat emoji, and to Arthur, a kissing emoji.

The doorbell chimed. It was the courier. Besides the signed divorce papers, he handed me a bag. I asked what it was. He stammered, "A lady asked me to give this to you. She said you're almost going through menopause, a bad-tempered old woman, and she wouldn't stoop to your level."

"Inside is some menopause supplement."

"But you look about thirty."

I calmly told him to discard Amy's attempt to provoke me, then closed the door. I took out the divorce papers and meticulously signed my name.

My phone vibrated a few times. It was a message from the hospital's HR director.

"Ms. Hayes, please reconsider? Others are one thing, but how could you send Dr. Rosslyn and Amy to Africa?"

"I know you're grieving and angry with Dr. Rosslyn. But please separate personal and professional matters. Don't resort to such dirty tactics. You're not just harming two talented individuals; you're depriving countless patients of their chance to live."

I calmly replied: "You make a good point. I forgot to deal with you. You're fired. I'll have a third party take over your duties."

Immediately, I called the third-party management group, instructing them to fully manage the hospital's HR and logistics.

"Anyone who pleads for Dr. Rosslyn or Amy is to be sent to Africa. Those who refuse must pay back their training costs."

I gently stroked the twins urns, speaking each word distinctly. The doctors who supported Amy in the comments were all impoverished students I had funded with my own money. I gave them opportunities, sent them abroad to study. In the end, they only knew how to curry favor with Arthur. They completely forgot who nurtured them into excellent doctors. They truly embodied ingratitude, all following Arthur's lead like blind sheep.

Ungrateful people don't make good doctors. They needed to experience hardship to understand true compassion.

After hanging up, I noticed Arthur had called me over a dozen times. Finally, likely infuriated, he even sent a new friend request with the message: "Answer the phone."

Just then, a new call came in. I answered.

The moment I picked up, his furious shouts assaulted me.

"Are you insane?! I'm about to get my promotion, Amy's about to be confirmed for her residency, and you've listed us for the African branch!"

"Eleanor Hayes, the children are gone, I know you're upset, but that was fate!"

"Our children were born sick; not even a god could save them. It was their destiny to not live long, not me or Amy trying to harm them!"

"I've told you countless times, yet you keep making things difficult for Amy. I didn't want you to check the surveillance to stop you from spiraling! I never imagined you'd start spreading such vicious rumors about Amy, let alone abuse your power to send her to Africa!"

His usually composed voice was now ragged with fury, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

I simply asked: "Were you truly rushing off for a surgical consultation? Was Amy's social media post really due to a drunken family member forcing you to play a game?"

"Or were you rushing off to spend a day at Disneyland with your young apprentice?"

On the other end, his ragged breathing suddenly stopped. Two seconds of silence.

"What nonsense are you spouting? That's not true... You're truly... suffering from delusions..."

Then, Amys voice.

"Dr. Rosslyn, the fireworks are about to start. You rarely get a chance to relax; I don't want my issues to spoil your mood. When we get back, I'll apologize to Eleanor myself, even if I have to kneel."

The call was immediately cut off. Presumably, he didn't want to miss the beautiful fireworks.

Clutching my children's urns, tears streamed down my face.

"Mommy will never let them get away with this."

I don't remember when I fell asleep, only that I cried until I couldn't breathe. I woke up the next day, eyes swollen shut. I put on sunglasses and headed downstairs, where I saw a busy figure.

Arthur emerged with a bowl of porridge, paused at the sight of me, then quickly smiled as if nothing was amiss. "You're up? I made you breakfast. Have some."

"I know yesterday's events must have worried you. I couldn't rest; I flew back all night."

I opened my mouth to say it wasn't necessary, but then a light-footed figure, wearing my pajamas, rushed out of the bathroom. She threw herself into Arthur's arms, playfully cooing.

"Dr. Rosslyn, you have such strong husband energy! I love men with husband energy."

Arthur quickly pulled her off him, his voice flustered. "You're a grown woman; stop acting like a child." He turned to explain. "It was raining when we landed, and we got soaked. I told Amy to go home and change, but she insisted on coming with me to apologize to you. That's why I gave her your clothes."

Amy stuck out her tongue and said to me, "Eleanor, I've come to apologize! Yesterday was just a joke! If you're still worried, I'll go on a blind date this weekend and get married quickly. I promise not to interfere with your relationship."

"Amy! Don't be ridiculous!" Arthur exclaimed. He noticed my sarcastic smile and quickly added, "I mean, Eleanor is always gentle and kind. She's surely forgiven you; there's no need for you to rush into things with random men."

"Right, Eleanor? Let's put yesterday behind us and move on, okay?"

My children's bodies were barely cold, yet he was under the fireworks, flirting with his new favorite. Now he wanted me to let it go? Of course.

I offered a mocking smile: "It's fine. I don't care."

Anyway, you'll both be in Africa soon. What your relationship is, where you went last night, what you didnone of it matters to me.

Seeing my response, Arthur seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "It's good that you're being reasonable. I've rescheduled all my surgeries to be with you for a while. Once you're feeling better and the children's seventh day rites are over, I'll go back to work."

I calmly agreed. He was their father; he should have been by their urns, observing their seventh day.

A flicker of displeasure crossed Amy's eyes. Her gaze darted, and she suddenly took the soup bowl from Arthur, walking towards me.

"Eleanor, you must try Dr. Rosslyn's seafood porridge. I had it once when Dr. Rosslyn and I went to the beach, and I said it was delicious, so Dr. Rosslyn said he'd learn to make it. I just tasted it, and it's exactly the same."

Arthur looked at me, a hint of panic in his eyes. He always claimed his hands were for saving lives, not for cooking or chores. But last month, he started going into the kitchen after work, making a huge mess. At the time, with our children gravely ill, I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I thought he was trying to ease my burden. While cleaning up his messes, I had a bitter-sweet hope that he might cook for me and the children again.

It turns out it was just to recreate Amys seafood porridge.

The moment I smelled that fishy odor, which I utterly detested, red welts instantly appeared on my skin. I covered my mouth, recoiled a few steps, and coldly said, "I'm allergic to seafood. Take it away."

Amy suddenly fumbled, and the scalding porridge spilled onto her chest. She shrieked, tumbling down the stairs.

"I'm so sorry, Eleanor, I didn't know W-w-w Dr. Rosslyn, it hurts so much"

"Eleanor Hayes! Are you out of your mind?!" Arthur roared. "Amy didn't know you were allergic. Did you really have to push her down like that?!"

"I didn't!" I retorted, suppressing aretch.

"You still won't admit it?! Could Amy have just spilled the porridge herself?"

His gaze was filled with disgust. "You look like a madwoman now." He swept Amy into his arms and headed out. "I'm warning you, remove my and Amy's names from that list immediately! Otherwise, you'll regret it!"

I naturally ignored his threats. The third-party management company called, informing me they had taken full control. All personnel matters were handled, and the transfer list for the African branch was finalized. I was pleased with their efficiency, only instructing them to investigate the operating room surveillance footage from the day of the children's surgery. I couldn't access it before because Arthur blocked me. His loyal HR team all made excuses when I tried. Now, no one could stop me.

The management staff checked the surveillance, then called back a few minutes later, their tone apologetic. "The surveillance video from that day has been deleted." My hand gripping the phone went white. Who deleted it was obvious. To protect his precious intern, he would do anything. "But don't worry, our technicians can try to recover it."

I breathed a sigh of relief, immediately promising double bonuses to everyone if they succeeded.

The moment the list was announced, my phone exploded. The doctors who once called me "Ms. Hayes, thank you for helping me become a doctor" now sent messages filled with curses.

"Eleanor Hayes, you can't catch your lover's mistress, so you're taking it out on us. Don't think you can make me a scapegoat. I'll expose your actions to the media. I will not pay you any money, and I will not go to Africa."

"Ms. Hayes, please have mercy on me. I'm getting married soon and have a mortgage. Don't drag us into your issues with Dr. Rosslyn."

"Old hag, just you wait. When Dr. Rosslyn divorces you and my best friend takes your place, we'll see how you throw your weight around then."

I looked up each of their profiles and sent them to the management company. "Calculate how much I spent on training each person. If they don't want to go to Africa, then according to the contract, they owe three times the compensation."

I was being merciful. Training a doctor isn't easy, and it's not easy for them to become good doctors. I didn't want to ruin them; I just wanted what I was owed.

Seeing the list was genuinely finalized, and his and Amys names were still on it, Arthur finally couldn't sit still. When I answered the phone, his voice was barely suppressing his rage.

"How long are you going to keep this up? Do you have to cause so much resentment that the hospital grinds to a halt before you're satisfied? Do you know how many surgeries are scheduled today? How do you expect these doctors on the list to work calmly?"

"This is a hospital, a place of healing, not where you throw tantrums. Take down the announcement immediately, and come to the hospital to apologize to everyone! And pay each person a year's performance bonus as compensation!"

I calmly replied, "They signed funding contracts, agreeing to obey any hospital transfer orders. If they can't work normally after a transfer order, it means they are unfit to be doctors."

On the other end, he started to pant, muttering a few curses.

"You're crazy! Fine, since you won't listen to reason, don't blame me for getting serious."

"Eleanor Hayes, remember, you started this."

He hung up, but I felt no satisfaction, only bitterness and sorrow. I had tried so hard to convince myself that he wasn't unloving towards me or the children, but merely cold by nature. But now, I saw his anger, his loss of control. It turns out he truly never loved us. I wasted ten years, alongside a man who didn't love me, watching him cause the deaths of my two children.

I ignored all the insults. Arthur, as if to provoke me, began his public retaliation. He openly brought Amy to various academic conferences and galas. They wore matching outfits, holding hands while giving interviews. At the launch event for a project I had funded and successfully developed, he even declared:

"Amy made significant contributions to this project; without her, its success would have been impossible."

They exchanged a knowing smile, captured by the media. The photos were published with the headline:

"Cardiac Specialist Dr. Arthur Rosslyn and Wife Appear at Research Launch Event."

"Exceptional Love, Creating a Legacy."

He retweeted the news, simply stating, "New drug launch, very happy." But he said nothing about the reporter mistakenly identifying Amy as his wife. The comments section was filled with praise for them as a couple, or congratulations. Some questioned: "Dr. Rosslyn, isn't this inappropriate?" But a second later, the comment was deleted.

I calmly finished reading, took a screenshot, and sent it to my lawyer. Perhaps my lack of reaction made them feel it was pointless. Someone sent me a leaked video. In the changing room, Amy's scalded chest was exposed, and Arthur was applying medication with a cotton swab. Amy whimpered, "Dr. Rosslyn, it hurts so much. Why don't you just use your fingers to apply the medicine?" Arthur's Adam's apple bobbed; he dropped the swab. The video ended there.

The sender then sent a laughing emoji. "Eleanor, don't misunderstand, it's just a dressing change."

I calmly replied, "I won't."

Anyway, they're both going to Africa; I don't care what they do.

On the seventh day after the childrens passing, I specifically decorated our home with an Ultraman theme. Their greatest wish had been to have an Ultraman-themed birthday party. They had waited so long, but every year Arthur would reject it: "Why bother with decorations, just making the house a mess. A cake is enough." But even for their birthdays, he rarely stayed to eat cake with them. He always said he was busy, no time for the children. Yet he had time to spend a whole day with Amy at Disneyland. My children, who struggled so hard to come into this world, deserved at least one birthday celebration they loved.

With tear-filled eyes, I sang "Happy Birthday" over and over again in front of their urns.

My phone rang. It was someone from the management company, their voice urgent: "Something's happened. Please check online. Dr. Rosslyn, along with other hospital doctors, is planning a public strike against you."

I opened my phone to a video posted on Arthurs private account. He was in a suit, Amy by his side, his face stern as he spoke: "Although Eleanor Hayes is my wife, I cannot stand by and watch her continue this madness."

"Ever since our children's surgery failed, she has been wildly accusing me of killing my own children, even dragging in my student, anesthesiologist Amy Davies, who assisted in the surgery, slandering her with vile rumors. When hospital doctors spoke up to defend us, she retaliated by forcing them to transfer to Africa, demanding exorbitant severance fees from those who refused."

"Because this matter affects the future of us doctors, I am, along with the doctors persecuted in this incident, announcing a strike. All surgeries will be halted! Until Eleanor Hayes comes forward to apologize to us and compensate everyone for their emotional distress during this time. Especially my student Amy Davies; she must personally kneel and apologize to her!"

Amy, her eyes red, choked out: "Eleanor, please stop slandering me. Don't send me to Africa; I'm my parents' only daughter."

The comments section was filled with cries from patients' families, begging me to apologize.

"My father's surgery really can't be delayed any longer; he'll die if it is."

"Please, Ms. Hayes, just apologize. I'll kneel for you. My daughter's condition can only be saved by Dr. Rosslyn."

I clenched my phone tightly, my calm heart finally tearing apart. Arthur's call came in, laced with threat: "Eleanor, you don't want to ruin your reputation and destroy the hospital, do you?"

I screamed, heartbroken, "You bastard! Arthur Rosslyn, you damn bastard!"

"Didn't I give them a choice?! The contract states either three years of support at the branch hospital or pay the penalty! They agreed to this voluntarily! How dare they strike with you just because they refuse to honor their contracts! Haven't you killed enough of my children? Are you going to kill more people?! How dare you call yourself a doctor, how dare you call yourself a human being!"

It was the first time I had ever cursed him like that, and Arthur was stunned for a few seconds. But then he impatiently said, "You're truly insane! I told you, the children died because they had bad luck! No one harmed them! You're just delusional!"

"If you don't want to see those patients die, then kneel and apologize and compensate! As long as you say you were delusional, that you misunderstood me and Amy, that everything about me and Amy was a rumor you spread, and you withdraw the transfer list for Africa, we will start the surgeries."

"And you have to say you're seriously ill and need to go to a mental institution for treatment, and change the hospital's responsible person to me..."

I snarled, "Dream on! Arthur Rosslyn! Go to hell and have your beautiful dreams there!"

"Everything I've done is compliant. Why should I apologize? Did I force you and Amy to go to Disneyland? Did I hold you down to make you kiss her, touch her chest?!"

"She used the wrong anesthesia dosage, killing my son, and you protected her, deleted the surgical monitoring records! You two despicable lovers, go to hell and atone for my children's deaths!"

Arthur gasped, "You're truly insane... I can't talk sense into you."

"Go to hell!" I viciously threw my phone to the ground, stomping on it several times.

Outside the door, a series of frantic knocks. The next second, a group of people burst in.

"Damn it, it's this bitch who's messing with the doctors, dragging so many patients down! Bitch, go to hell!"

They tore at my clothes, slapped my face, and kicked my stomach. I clutched the urns in my arms tightly. But someone snatched them away.

"No!!" I shrieked, rushing to get them back. But I could only watch helplessly as the urns were smashed to the ground, my children's ashes scattering instantly.

"You bitch! You care so much about your two unlucky kids, I'll scatter their ashes to make you suffer, to show you what pain is!"

I rushed forward, my eyes bloodshot, but they dragged me back. Arthur and Amy walked in. Seeing the chaotic scene, his first reaction was to protect Amy. He looked at me, covered in blood, his expression complex, his voice a little anxious.

"Eleanor, stop being so stubborn! Just apologize, and everything will be fine! They are all doctors and patients' families. If you just do as I say, everything can be settled!"

My mouth full of blood, I shrieked, "Dream on! I won't let you two get away with this! I'll make you regret it!"

Suddenly, police sirens wailed, and a group of officers stormed into the house.

"Trespassing, assault, everyone back to the station!"

The group of people cried for help: "Dr. Rosslyn, save us!"

Arthur immediately stepped forward: "Misunderstanding, misunderstanding, I'm the owner, she's my wife... This is just a domestic dispute."

I leaned against the wall, stood up, and shrieked to correct him: "He is not my husband! We are already divorced!"

"I am formally pressing charges against him! For maliciously instructing others to break into my home and commit violent assault!"

"I will make every single one of them pay!"