Shattered Vows: Call Me Auntie Now novel Chapter 269

Having kept this secret for seven years, Vivienne wasn't about to give up so easily.

She desperately pleaded, "No, Dante, did someone say something to turn you against me? Are they trying to ruin us?"

"It was me... I really did save you!"

"Is that so?"

Dante looked down at her, his gaze as cold as if he were staring at a corpse.

"Then why did the doctor say the scar on your wrist wasn't caused by a shard of ice?"

Two hours ago—

After the nurse took Vivienne to the dressing room, Dante and Professor Thorne were left alone in the clinic.

Professor Thorne sat at his desk, meticulously filling out her medical chart.

Dante sat in silence for a moment before he couldn't hold back anymore. "Professor Thorne, can you tell what kind of object caused that old scar just by looking at the tissue?"

The doctor answered honestly. "Looking at the margins of the wound, it's a classic laceration from a sharp instrument."

Dante's heart sank, yet he clung to what he had believed all these years. "She told me it was caused by the jagged edge of a broken block of ice. Does that align with what you see?"

Professor Thorne frowned slightly, shaking his head. "Mr. Hayes, when ice fractures from cold temperatures, it breaks unevenly. The lacerations it leaves are jagged, and the wound edges would be rough and irregular."

"But this woman's scar has clean, straight lines. It's much more consistent with the way skin splits when sliced by a smooth, hard surface."

"It was almost certainly a knife or a sharp piece of broken porcelain. It definitely wasn't an ice shard."

Those few sentences instantly shattered the reality Dante had clung to for seven years.

His posture went rigid, the temperature in the room plunging as a dark aura settled over him.

The 'life-saving grace' he had placed his absolute faith in for nearly a decade had just blown wide open.

Vivienne's claims—that she sacrificed her body and delayed her design career to save his life—were nothing but a massive, sickening lie from start to finish.

He sat frozen in the chair, his fingers curling into tight fists. The terrifying suspicion he had been trying to suppress began growing wildly out of control.

A suffocating weight settled on his chest, an unbearable mix of shock and agonizing retroactive clarity.

When the rescue team brought him back and he woke up in the hospital all those years ago, Vivienne was the one sitting by his bed, refusing to leave his side.

Her wrist had been wrapped in thick gauze, completely soaked in blood.

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