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Chapter_247
With a swift, almost violent motion, the curtain was yanked aside—not with the caution of someone trying to maintain decorum, but with the deliberate force of a man wielding a quiet, simmering authority. Ludwik’s eyes immediately locked onto Whitney, and for the briefest of moments, he was struck speechless. The room seemed to freeze, the air heavy with a tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Then, the moment shifted, and his eyes narrowed, darkened by the fury that was rising within him.
Whitney, ever the picture of composure, quickly retracted her hand, which had unwittingly brushed against his. She met his gaze with a cold, almost mocking calmness, her expression unreadable.
Three years. Three long years had passed since she last saw him. The time had done its work on both of them, leaving a version of him that was more hardened, perhaps even more handsome. Yet beneath the surface, there was something undeniably different. The sharp angles of his face, which had once conveyed nothing but warmth and affection, were now carved with frustration, years of bitterness, and regret. She could see it in the way his eyes bore into hers—he had been changed, just as she had.
But even in that moment, as the past flooded back to her in overwhelming waves, Whitney kept her composure. The memories of that night—the night when he had left her and their child behind—stung in her chest. But she didn’t allow the pain to show. She couldn’t.
Ludwik, his anger now seething, surged forward. In one violent motion, he grabbed her by the neck, slamming her against a piece of medical equipment with such force that it sent a tremor through her spine. His grip was like iron, unrelenting.
“I knew you weren’t dead, you viperous witch!” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “How dare you show your face again? Are you looking for death?”
His fingers dug into her throat, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Whitney’s breath hitched, but she didn’t allow herself to panic. Her face twisted, not in fear, but in a bitter smile. He had the audacity to call her that? After everything he had done—leaving her, abandoning their family—he had the nerve to call her a “viperous witch”?
But she wasn’t the same woman she had been when he left her. She had learned how to survive, how to navigate the harshest of storms. With a subtle movement, she twisted her neck and freed herself from his grip with almost effortless ease. In one fluid motion, she pivoted, her back now pressed firmly against the desk. Her posture was confident, even provocative, and her heels pointed dangerously in his direction.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, her voice eerily calm, “but do I know you?”
Ludwik blinked, taken aback for a split second. The woman in front of him—the delicate, sharp-eyed beauty—was unmistakable. There was no mistaking her for anyone else. But now, something in her eyes had changed. The warmth, the love that once filled them, had vanished, replaced by cold emptiness. She wasn’t the woman he remembered. She was someone else entirely now.
He reached up, his hand trembling with rage, and pinched her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Stop playing games with me,” he snarled. “I don’t have the patience for your tricks. What’s your angle? Blackmail? Extortion? Pretending to be a doctor to seduce me?”
His words were venomous, but Whitney didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, her eyes unwavering as they met his with a cold, detached stare. She was no longer the woman who had clung to him, the one who had once believed in their love. No. This was someone different.
“Felix!” Ludwik’s voice thundered, filled with fury. “Get her out of here. She’s an impostor! Throw her out and give her a proper send-off!”
But Felix, upon seeing Whitney’s face, froze. His jaw dropped, his words stumbling as he gasped, “Madam…”
Ignoring him completely, Whitney walked toward the door with an air of authority, slamming it shut behind her. Then, with a look of complete indifference, she turned her back to Ludwik, casually flipping through his medical chart as though she were dealing with any other patient.
“Seduce you?” she repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Mr. Lippert, you flatter yourself. According to this chart, you’ve been dealing with erectile dysfunction for quite some time. I highly doubt I possess such a compelling charm.”
Ludwik’s face reddened with fury. How dare she speak to him like that? This was not the woman he had known, the one who had once stood by him with love and devotion. This woman—this version of her—was cold, detached, and sharp-tongued, a far cry from the one who had once been vulnerable in his arms.
With a steely expression, Whitney continued, her voice as cold and calculated as ever. “My consultation fee isn’t exactly pocket change. Are you sure you want to waste it reminiscing about old memories instead of focusing on your treatment?”
Unable to contain his frustration any longer, Ludwik slammed his hand down onto the desk. His tall frame towered over her, his eyes burning with rage. “You tramp,” he sneered, “is this what you enjoy now? Treating men all day? Let me remind you, Whitney, we haven’t even gone to court for the divorce yet. Legally, you’re still my wife. Don’t embarrass me. If I catch you offering your ‘professional services’ to any other man, you’ll regret it.”
His words landed like a slap, but Whitney didn’t flinch. Instead, her gaze hardened, a sharp edge to it as she met his with unwavering resolve. She had heard it all before, and his insults no longer held any power over her.
“Does it really matter whether I recognize you or not, Ludwik?” she replied, her voice low and cutting. “Much like that night three years ago, when I finally saw you for who you really are.”
Ludwik’s expression faltered for the briefest of moments, as if her words had struck a chord deep within him. But then, his frustration reignited, burning even hotter.
“You’ve got some nerve,” he muttered darkly, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’ll make sure you regret coming back here, Whitney. This time, I won’t be the one to walk away.”
Whitney’s jaw tightened, her fists clenching beneath the table. She had faced far worse than him in the years since he had abandoned her. He had made his choices, and now it was time for her to make hers.
“I’m not here to play your games,” she said, her voice steady, unyielding. “I’m here to do my job. And if you have a problem with that, Mr. Lippert, feel free to find another doctor.”
The words hung in the air, final and unambiguous. She turned her attention back to the desk, glancing at the clock as if to remind him that her time was valuable—and Ludwik was just another patient on her list.
