OLIVIA

I stood frozen at the clinic entrance, my knees growing weak at the sight of the man sitting at the desk, facing his computer. He wore frameless eyeglasses and a white coat, exuding the same cold and distant aura I remembered so well.

Dr. Noah Ezekiel Morgan.

I never imagined I would see my child’s father again. It was a one-night stand, a brief moment between us that meant nothing to him. He knew nothing of what followed. Seven years had passed since I last saw him, and I never imagined I would cross paths with him again.

As if fate were toying with me, he was now the cardiologist assigned to treat my daughter.

I bit my lower lip. Should I turn around and leave immediately? I glanced at my daughter, who was holding my hand, her eyes filled with confusion. I gave her a faint smile and shook my head to reassure her that everything was okay.

I was here today to seek treatment for my daughter. My six-year-old daughter, Hannah, was born with congenital heart disease, caused by her premature birth. To make sure that her condition was closely monitored, I always brought her for regular checkups.

Dr. Smith, who had been caring for Hannah since she was born, recommended that I consult Dr. Harrison, a renowned cardiologist and the head of the Palo Alto Medical Center. According to his latest medical assessment, my daughter needed surgery.

Just hearing the name of the hospital where Dr. Harrison worked, I knew I would need a substantial amount of money to cover the surgery costs. But I didn’t care how high the expenses were—as long as it could save my daughter, that was all that mattered.

Upon arriving at the hospital, the nurse informed me that Dr. Harrison was away on a business trip and recommended Dr. Morgan, who had just returned from abroad. Dr. Morgan was Dr. Harrison’s favorite student, holding both an M.D. and a Ph.D. After learning about his qualifications, I agreed to the nurse’s suggestion. But who would have thought that the Dr. Morgan the nurse mentioned would turn out to be Noah?

“Come in,” Noah’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts.

Noah raised his head and looked toward us. His eyes briefly lingered on me before he returned to his work. My heart nearly leaped out of my throat, and I instinctively clenched my fists.

“Mom, you’re hurting me,” Hannah whispered.

“Sorry, Hannah,” I immediately apologized and let go of her hand. Just as I was about to explain, Noah’s voice came again.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Ms. Evans?” Noah’s tone was calm, like any professional doctor.

For a moment, I felt a sense of relief wash over me, then I almost laughed at myself for being scared. There was no way he would recognize me. The woman in front of him was no longer the girl he once knew.

I had no intention of telling him we had a child. What happened between us that night was nothing more than a deal. And with all the girls lining up for him, there was no way he’d remember someone like me.

He was the heir to a billion-dollar empire spanning three continents, from finance to energy, while I was just an orphan taken in by my uncle after losing my parents. There was no way he’d remember me.

I gave him a polite smile and led Hannah to his desk. “Dr. Morgan, we were referred by Dr. Smith,” I said, taking Hannah’s medical records out of my bag. “Here is Hannah’s latest medical record, which will give you a more detailed understanding.”

Noah’s slender fingers took the file. Without even glancing at me, he opened it and began reading carefully.

I observed him up close once again. He had matured since seven years ago—his hair was shorter, the lines of his features more defined, and the muscles in his arms, even concealed beneath his white doctor’s coat, seemed ready to burst forth like a beast’s.

He had always been a popular guy, with girls easily drawn to him. It was no surprise that I meant nothing to him. I shook my head, dispelling any unwarranted disappointment. There was only one thing I needed to focus on now: Hannah’s treatment.

After what felt like an eternity, Noah finally looked up from the file. His sharp gray eyes fixed on me.

“Ms. Evans, based on Hannah’s condition, we need to perform surgery as soon as possible,” Noah said in his steady tone. “Her heart condition is critical. Any further delay could make it harder to control and, in the long run, affect her overall health.”

I gritted my teeth, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach. “Are you sure the surgery will allow her to recover completely?”

“Mom, can I not have the surgery? I think it will hurt,” Hannah said fearfully.

I had completely forgotten Hannah was still there. I wanted to comfort her, but Noah was faster. He leaned down, his voice gentle—completely unlike the cold tone he had used with me. “What’s your name, little one?”

“Hannah Evans,” she replied timidly.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Noah said, the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that could take one’s breath away. He took a stethoscope from his pocket and gently placed it on her chest, his tone unusually soft. “The doctor just wants to listen to your little heart. It won’t hurt.”

Hannah’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him, her small hand still clutching the sleeve of his white coat. “Dr. Morgan, I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

My throat tightened, and I instinctively tried to interrupt—“Hannah—”

But Noah’s voice cut in faster, calm yet amused. “Is it because I’m handsome?”

Hannah giggled, her tension instantly melting away.

“Yes! You look like the doctor from that show, The Good Doctor—the one who always saves all the children.”

Noah paused for a moment, his eyes softening. “Then I’ll have to be like him and help you get healthier.”

“Will I really become healthy? Healthy enough to run like the other kids in kindergarten?” Hannah asked, blinking.

“Of course, I promise,” Noah said firmly. “How about we make a deal? Once you’re better, we’ll have a race. I bet you can run faster than me.”

Hannah looked up at me. “Mom, can we?”

I nearly froze again. Noah wanted to run with Hannah? My mind conjured images of them bonding like father and daughter. I shook my head, convincing myself that Noah was only saying this to comfort her.

I patted her head and nodded. “Of course.”

Noah stood up and said to Hannah, “I know a really fun spot in the hospital. Why don’t you go with the nurse and check it out?”

I immediately understood that Noah likely wanted to discuss something else with me. “Thank you,” I said as the nurse approached.

When the nurse led Hannah out of the office, the space was left with only Noah and me.

I felt nervous again—though I shouldn’t have, since Noah clearly hadn’t recognized me. Besides, I had changed my name. I was no longer Emma Cooper but Olivia Evans. I was no longer the 200-pound woman; my weight was now perfectly normal. Even my best friend, Grace, hadn’t recognized me when she first saw me because I was completely different from before.

I had struggled with my weight since high school due to hypothyroidism. It had caused my metabolism to slow down, making it nearly impossible to lose weight. But after my pregnancy, my thyroid function improved, which helped me return to my original weight.

But the moment I met his gaze, I felt all the strength drain from my body. My fingers tightened around the strap of my worn bag, and I took a deep breath.

“Dr. Morgan, what did you want to tell me? Is Hannah’s surgery particularly complex?” I asked anxiously.

“No, the surgery itself is something I can handle with confidence,” Noah replied quickly. His eyes briefly lingered on my casual clothes and the worn-out bag I carried. “It’s just… the cost will be substantial. Are you certain you have adequate insurance coverage?”

I had health insurance, but it wasn’t comprehensive enough to cover the full cost of the surgery. Given my income, covering the entire expense would be a challenge. I shook my head slightly. “I don’t have full coverage for something like this. But I’ll find a way to come up with the money. That’s why I’m here.”

His impeccably professional appearance and the look in his eyes cut deep—a painful reminder of that night seven years ago, when I’d accidentally overheard his cruel assessment of me: “That kind of cheap, overweight girl isn’t someone I’d ever date.”

My fists clenched. Back then, his words had sent my life spiraling into darkness. I nearly succumbed to depression, even considering ending it all. But everything changed when I discovered I was pregnant with Hannah. From that moment on, his harsh judgment lost much of its power over me.

He’s a jerk, I told myself firmly. I won’t let a jerk ruin my life.

“I assure you, the money will be ready,” I said, my voice sharp with suppressed anger. “You just focus on scheduling the surgery.” With that, I turned and walked out of Noah’s office.

The door clicked shut behind me, and only then did I realize my back was drenched in cold sweat.

A deep fear gripped me—what if someone like Noah, with all his privilege and influence, discovered Hannah was his daughter? What if he tried to fight me for custody? I could never let that happen.

As soon as Hannah’s surgery is over, I’ve decided, we’re moving away.