Gold Digger vs Gold Saver My Man's Double Life novel Chapter 6

**Marriage Without Temperature by Mark Twain**
**Chapter 6**

The week that followed my breakup felt surreal, as if I were moving through a dream where everything remained unchanged yet felt profoundly different. I arrived at the hospital, donning my usual professional demeanor, determined to keep the turmoil in my heart at bay.

In the bustling world of neurosurgery, I found enough distractions to mask my inner turmoil. The constant hum of surgical instruments and the hurried footsteps of my colleagues created a cacophony that drowned out my thoughts. Most of my coworkers were blissfully unaware of my personal struggles, though a handful of close friends shot me worried glances, their concern evident in the furrow of their brows.

One afternoon, Dr. Harrison, a seasoned neurosurgeon with a reputation for his no-nonsense approach, pulled me aside in the corridor. His glasses slid down his nose as he regarded me with a mixture of sympathy and professionalism.

“I’ve heard that things have been a bit rocky between you and Dr. Archer,” he began, his voice steady yet tinged with concern. “It’s not uncommon for relationships to hit a few bumps along the way. You two probably need to—”

I cut him off, the words spilling out before I could stop myself. “We broke up.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flash of disbelief crossing his face. “I thought you were on the path to marriage.”

“Not anymore,” I replied, my voice flat, devoid of the emotion that churned inside me.

Dr. Harrison studied me intently, his gaze searching for a glimpse of the woman he once knew, the one who was full of hope and ambition. After what felt like an eternity, he sighed deeply, the weight of my situation settling heavily in the air between us. “That’s unfortunate. You both are incredibly talented physicians. But if it’s not working, it’s not working. Just take care of yourself, Olivia.”

“I will. Thanks, Dr. Harrison,” I murmured, trying to muster a smile as I turned to leave his office.

As I stepped out, I nearly collided with Grant, and the sight of him sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through me. He looked utterly wrecked—his eyes were hollow, his scrubs wrinkled and disheveled, as if he hadn’t bothered to take care of himself since our split.

“Liv. Please. Can we just talk?” he implored, desperation lacing his voice.

“Dr. Archer, we’re at work. Let’s keep it professional,” I replied, my tone icy.

“Just five minutes—” he pressed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No.” I maneuvered around him, my heart pounding with a mixture of anger and resolve. “And stop texting me. Stop calling. My lawyer has my number—use that.”

The expression on his face hardened, and I could see the frustration boiling beneath the surface. “So that’s it? You’re just done with us?”

“Done?” I spun around to face him, unable to contain the hurt and fury that surged within me. “You cheated on me. You lavished her with eighty grand in jewelry. You took her side in front of everyone. But somehow, I’m the unreasonable one?”

“I broke it off with her!” His voice dropped to a desperate whisper, as if he were pleading for my understanding. “I’ll get the jewelry back. I’ll give you everything—”

“I don’t want your money,” I interrupted, my voice rising with indignation.

“I want you out of my life,” I declared, the finality of my words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

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