My Commander Ex Divorced Me Then I Became Out of His League Chapter 08

My Commander Ex Divorced Me Then I Became Out of His League Chapter 08

I stood at the OR doors for three seconds.

In those three seconds, my mind raced.

If I didn’t operate, no one would fault me. I was the only surgeon available. Limited capacity. The patient’s injuries were too severe. In wartime conditions, this was all too normal.

If I did operate-

Nova Pierce’s father would owe me his life.

I pushed through the doors.

That surgery was the hardest I’d ever performed.

The bullet had torn through Victor Pierce’s right abdomen. It shredded the right lobe of his liver

and nicked his right renal artery. His abdominal cavity was flooded with blood.

In an era of rudimentary equipment, an injury like that had a mortality rate north of ninety percent.

But I didn’t back down.

Thirty years of accumulated medical knowledge from my previous life. Everything Professor Shaw had poured into me in this one. Hands that had been gifted a rare natural talent.

Three and a half hours later, Victor Pierce’s vitals stabilized.

When I walked out of the OR, I was drenched in sweat. My surgical gown was soaked in blood.

The hallway was packed.

Uniforms. Plainclothes officers. A few stone-faced security personnel.

A middle-aged man in glasses rushed toward me. I recognized him. Director Liu from the Military Health Department.

“The surgery?”

“Successful. Bullet’s out. Liver’s repaired. Renal artery’s reconnected. He’ll need close monitoring

post-op, but vitals are stable for now.”

My voice was calm.

Director Liu stared at me, then spun toward the people behind him. “It was a success! The old man’s going to make it!”

A wave of released tension swept through the corridor.

Some people clapped. Someone let out a shuddering breath. Someone turned away to wipe at their

eyes.

And then-

At the back of the crowd, a figure stepped forward.

Crisp uniform. Gleaming insignia. Tall, broad-shouldered.

I knew that face too well.

Chiseled features. Deep-set eyes. Thin, pressed lips.

Gavin Whitmore, at thirty years old, looked younger than any memory I had of him from my last

life.

And more like a stranger.

When he locked eyes with me, I saw shock ripple through his expression.

It was obvious he hadn’t expected the person standing outside the OR, covered in blood, having just

saved his old commanding officer’s life-

Was his newly divorced ex-wife.

“Sloane… Ashford?”

He said my name.

His voice had a strange, halting quality to it.

I looked at him. No racing heart. No bitter ache. None of that reflexive urge to cry I used to get in my last life every time I saw him.

I felt nothing.

Completely clean.

“Commander Whitmore.” I nodded politely, turned, and walked away.

Behind me, I felt his gaze track my every step.

For a long, long time.