York let out a cold scoff. "You refused to come home with me, insisting on living in this rundown dump with your mother. You even went as far as threatening me with your wrists. Aren't you afraid you'll never be able to hold a scalpel again?"
He pressed on, "I compromised. I let you and your mother stay here, but not so it would be convenient for you to go out and hook up with other men."
"If I catch you getting close to them again, don't blame me for going back on my word."
Gillian gritted her teeth in defense. "York, all we talked about today was work."
"Work? Did the work conversation somehow lead to him confessing his feelings for you?" York mocked sarcastically. "Your version of professional talk is certainly something else."
He emphasized the word 'professional' with venomous intent, his jaw clenched.
"I agreed not to divorce you, but I still have my personal freedom. If you don't trust me, there's nothing I can do—"
She met his gaze. "If you break your promise, I'll hire a lawyer and fight you in court for a divorce. And I won't keep the baby, either."
York's expression darkened as he glared at her. "Gillian, have I been too lenient with you lately? Are you getting arrogant, thinking you can threaten me again and again?"
She stood her ground. "What we have is a negotiation, a partnership, an exchange of leverage. It is not a threat."
York let out an infuriated, icy laugh. "You really are something else! Miles gave you the nerve to talk back to me, didn't he?"
Gillian's eyes remained cold and calm. "I told you, he didn't. This marriage of ours is nothing more than a transaction."
In the end, York stormed out, simmering with rage.
Gillian lowered her eyes and took a deep breath.
Every conversation between them felt like slamming into a brick wall. They never saw eye to eye, and it had ended in yet another bitter fight.
-
Three days later.
Gillian went to work at the hospital.



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