He Missed His Son’s Eye Surgery For Her Follow-Up Visit Chapter 03

He Missed His Son’s Eye Surgery For Her Follow-Up Visit Chapter 03

Gavin looked up, frowning. “Why are you so aggressive?”

“Answer me. Did you?”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “Vanessa needs an international-standard eye evaluation for her visa tomorrow. That specialist at Westbrook is the only one who can sign off. Eli’s condition is stable. We can reschedule.”

I locked eyes with him. “Gavin, you’re an ophthalmologist. You know better than anyone that he can’t wait.”

Gavin’s expression hardened. Claire, I know that. But Eli’s stable. Vanessa’s fellowship is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

I laughed. “So you gave her our son’s rehab bed?”

“I didn’t give it to her.” He said it like it was obvious. “I’m just moving resources around temporarily. Quit twisting everything into something nasty.”

I looked down at the desk and spotted a bank statement.

Twenty thousand dollars.

Transferred from our joint account.

Memo: Vanessa Price—Overseas Guarantee Funds.

That was Eli’s second-phase rehab money.

I held it up. “Is this also ‘temporary resource allocation’?”

Gavin’s face flickered, but he recovered fast. “Vanessa’s going to a new country with nothing. She needs a safety net. I’ll make up Eli’s treatment costs later.”

I felt the absurdity hit me like a wall. “Later? Gavin, how many ‘laters’ do you have left for Eli?”

His expression went cold. “Claire, don’t guilt-trip me with our child. Vanessa had a rough life—her parents abandoned her, she’s fought alone this whole time. You have a job, a home, a kid. What does she have?”

I looked at him. “She has you.”

The study went quiet for two seconds.

Gavin looked away. “I’m just helping her.”

I pulled out my phone and opened the camera. “Then say it on video. Say you canceled Eli’s specialist appointment yourself. Say you transferred his rehab money to Vanessa.”

Gavin’s face twisted. “Claire, have you lost your mind?”

He lunged for my phone.

I stepped back. “If you’ve got nothing to hide, then what’re you so scared of?”

For the first time, I saw real anger flash in his eyes. “You’re being totally unreasonable. Eli’s three, and you’ve got him walking around saying stuff like ‘Daddy’s dead’ and ‘star grave’—you call that love?”

I slapped him.

The crack echoed.

Gavin’s head turned to the side.

He slowly faced me again, his eyes dark and dangerous.

“Claire Hastings.”

I gripped my phone. “That slap was for Eli—waiting for you outside that OR.”

A small sound came from the doorway.

I turned.

Eli stood there with his bear.

He’d heard everything.

He couldn’t see well from that distance, so he felt along the wall and shuffled toward me, one step at a time.

“Mommy.”

I knelt and pulled him in.

Eli reached up and touched my face with his little hand. “Mommy, don’t cry.”

I wasn’t crying.

But he thought I was.

That night, Eli sat on his bed and pressed record.

“Bear, Daddy gave my doctor to Ms. Price. Does that mean I don’t need to see anymore?”

I stood in the doorway, my nails digging into my palms.

My phone lit up.

Vanessa had posted on social media.

A photo of Gavin beside her, sliding documents into a file folder.

Her caption: [Thank you to the one who always puts me first.]

Gavin liked it.

I stared at the screen.

Then I called my lawyer.

“Add marital asset diversion, unauthorized cancellation of a minor’s medical consultation, and abuse of hospital privileges to the complaint.”

The lawyer paused. “Dr. Hastings, are you sure you want to go this far?”

I looked toward the bedroom where Eli slept with his teddy bear.

“Sure. I want him stripped of the right to even sign Eli’s charts.”