Chapter 1 Thinking I’m the Girlfriend
It was easy to remove someone from your heart. If you couldn’t erase them completely, at least you didn’t lose your self-respect.
Ingrid Leone had secretly loved Brandon Geppard for 10 years, but she never expected to benefit from their proximity. It was Brandon who, after drinking, held her hand, told her he was single, and insisted on taking her home.
That night, Brandon wasn’t just acting on drunken impulse—after all, both of them were in the medical field. A truly drunk man wouldn’t be able to function.
So, judging by Brandon’s enthusiasm, the alcohol wasn’t making him reckless—it was just fueling his desire.
Sure enough, the next morning, Brandon didn’t try to pretend nothing had happened. Instead, he said, “Let’s give this a try.”
Ingrid had wanted him for so long that she saw no reason to play coy. She nodded readily.
But then, Brandon had a condition. “I just got promoted to department deputy head, and you’re preparing for your head nurse evaluation. It’s best if we don’t make this public for now—I don’t want people questioning it. What do you think?”
Ingrid thought it made sense. Their hospital was the most prestigious private hospital in York City, and securing a title there was even more competitive than in top-tier public hospitals. Every doctor and nurse came from an elite university.
Brandon had started high school at 13 and fast-tracked through his medical studies. Despite being a genius, he had still spent six to seven grueling years before finally earning his department deputy head title.
Ingrid agreed. She didn’t want Brandon to be scrutinized, and she certainly didn’t want to hinder herself either.
They worked in the same hospital and constantly crossed paths, yet no one suspected they were in a relationship—because they were excellent at pretending. Pretending to be professional.
Brandon wasn’t even 30 but was already making a seven-figure salary. Plenty of people pursued him—from nurses and doctors to wealthy socialites and even patients. But he always remained cold and distant, keeping things strictly professional.
Someone so disciplined, so seemingly devoid of personal affairs—who would believe he had a secret lover?
Ingrid, on the other hand, wasn’t single because she lacked admirers, but because her burdens were too heavy.
A deceased father, a sick mother, a younger brother still in school, and no York City resident registration. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty enough to have suitors—it was that her burdens were too heavy, and her life wasn’t something an average man would want to take on.
Behind closed doors, Brandon was a different person. In his white coat, he was impeccably proper. Without it, he was utterly shameless.
He was Ingrid’s first man, and he fulfilled all her fantasies about what a man should be. She knew that his family background was far superior to hers. Dating didn’t mean marriage. But perhaps it could happen?
After all, he had broken up with Zelda Jackman after being together for so many years. Ingrid admitted she was greedy. Just having him wasn’t enough. Three months wasn’t enough. She wanted a lifetime.
On the eve of their 100-day anniversary, Ingrid planned a small celebration. But Brandon was out of town for work. For three or four days straight, he didn’t answer her calls. He only sent brief Whatsapp replies like, “Just got out of a meeting.”
Doctors often didn’t even have time to eat when they were busy, so Ingrid understood. Still, on their actual anniversary, she found herself heading to Brandon’s apartment, almost on impulse.
She didn’t ring the doorbell—she simply entered the passcode. As the door creaked open, a trembling female voice came from inside.
“Who did you bring home?”
There was no response. The woman’s voice turned more frantic. “Brandon, I’m asking you, who did you bring home?”
Ingrid’s gaze fell to the entryway, where two pairs of shoes sat by side—one was Brandon’s, the other a pair of five inch stiletto heels.
Brandon still hadn’t answered. A ridiculous hope flickered in Ingrid’s mind. Maybe it was just his ex causing a scene? But in the next second, his voice cut through the air.
“What are you doing? Put the knife down!”
The woman sobbed, “Tell me the truth—have you fallen for someone else?”
Brandon replied, “Don’t be crazy!”
“Then tell me, who is she?” the woman shouted.
Without hesitation, Brandon said, “A fling. It’s just a fling. Are you happy now?”
That alone was enough to drain the blood from Ingrid’s face. But what truly shattered her was what came next—when the woman threatened her own life, and Brandon actually cared.
“Brandon, how could you do this to me?” she wept.
“You’re the one who wanted to break up. You said you didn’t regret it,” Brandon retorted.
“I was just upset. I only wanted you to reassure me.”
“And what about you? What exactly is your relationship with that guy?”
“I told you a thousand times—nothing! Nothing! You’re the one who assumed I betrayed you. Do I have to die just to prove I never lied?”
A loud crash echoed through the apartment, followed by Brandon’s panicked voice. It sounded like something had been knocked off the coffee table. Then, a furious roar thundered through the air.
“Zelda!”
Zelda’s voice trembled with both grief and madness. “Tell me, who is she? How many times have you slept with her? Do you love her? Is she pretty?”
“I never liked her. I was only with her to piss you off. Happy now?”
“You bastard, Brandon!”
Ingrid quietly closed the door. She had no interest in eavesdropping on lovers rekindling old flames or their heated exchanges.
She didn’t barge in demanding justice—not because she lacked confidence, but because she had self-respect.
Every day, someone in this world got caught up in something unfair and disgusting—whoever it happened to was just unlucky. It was best to not know why.
…
Ingrid snapped out of her daze. The man beside her noticed and asked, “Are you okay?”
She didn’t want to discuss such things—especially not with a man she had only known for 40 minutes. She hasn’t sought revenge on Brandon. But this man? He was, indeed, her tool to forget about that jerk.
Ingrid’s mind was consumed with how to end this absurd encounter—she had an early shift tomorrow. When it was over, the man was gentle. “Do you want to shower?”
Ingrid rarely spoke, but this time she did. “You go first.”
The man got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. When he came back, he sensed something was off—there was no one on the bed.
Sure enough, when he turned on the light, it was empty.
…
Ingrid returned from a two-day break and arrived at the inpatient department at 7:50 am to take over from her colleague who was about to finish their shift.
One of the colleagues informed her, “Two new patients were admitted to VIP1 and VIP2 the night before last. Both were in a car accident.
“Their external injuries were treated in another department, and they’re transferred here for orthopedic surgery—one for the spine, the other for the cervical vertebrae. The first surgery is scheduled for 9:00 a.m.”
Ingrid asked, “Which doctor is operating?”
“The cervical surgery in VIP2 will be performed by Mr. Geppard. VIP1 hasn’t been assigned yet.”
Ingrid was surprised. “What do you mean by ‘hasn’t been assigned’?”
Lowering her voice, the colleague explained, “You’re off the past two days, so you wouldn’t know. I just heard from the others—VIP1’s patient specifically requested for an external doctor. They’re waiting for his availability.”
Ingrid grew more curious. Most patients who came to Peaceheart Hospital were either wealthy or influential. If they were here, it meant they trusted the hospital’s medical standards. Why would they insist on an outside doctor?
Seeing her confusion, the colleague whispered, “Apparently, the patient has ties to the Jackson family.”
That made sense. Peaceheart Hospital was practically the Jackson family’s private hospital. If their friend was admitted, they could certainly pick any doctor they wanted.
Just as she was pondering this, her colleagues suddenly greeted someone behind her. “Mr. Geppard.”
Ingrid turned to see Brandon approaching. He had been on leave for a week, and this was the first time she had seen him in six days. As always he looked both strikingly handsome and distant.
Ingrid remained as composed as ever. “Mr. Geppard.”
“Mm,” he responded lightly as they passed each other.
A young nurse watched Brandon’s retreating figure and sighed. “With someone like Mr. Geppard, why doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”
Another colleague chimed in, “Maybe he’s too perfect, and no one feels worthy.”
“Such a shame… If this were a drama, I’d end up with Mr. Geppard.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m just an ordinary girl. If I were rich and beautiful, the drama wouldn’t even make it past 10 episodes.”
Listening from the side, Ingrid couldn’t help but smile.
…
At 2:30 p.m., the department head, Ainsley Zimmerman and the department head nurse, Lilliane Cooper called for a brief meeting. But despite being labeled ‘brief’, every senior and associate senior doctor attended, even those off duty.
Ainsley beamed as if he had won the lottery. “Let me introduce him—this is Jasper Clifford.
“Dr. Clifford entered York Medical University before the age of 14 and is an alumnus of many here. For the past six years, he’s been training in Osmo and Grunland.
“Don’t be fooled by his young appearance—he already has over a decade of clinical experience and is considered a senior in the field. He performed today VIP1 spinal surgery for five hours and utilized 19 screws…”
Some had heard of Jasper and were already in awe. Those unfamiliar quickly realized the complexity of the procedure and wasted no time singing his praises.
Jasper responded politely, “You’re all too kind. I still have a lot to learn. I hope to receive your guidance during my time at Peaceheart Hospital.”
The young nurses practically had stars in their eyes. They had thought Brandon was the pinnacle of an accomplished, handsome doctor, but Jasper seemed to surpass him both in credentials and presence.
The entire room was filled with smiles—genuine or otherwise—welcoming Jasper. Except for Ingrid. She couldn’t smile at all. She recognized Jasper instantly from the past. From last night.
Ingrid has worn heavy makeup then. Now, she could only hope he wouldn’t recognize her.
“Hey, it’s you.”
Surrounded by admiration, Jasper suddenly locked eyes with her.
But Ingrid didn’t dare lift her head, but she could feel the weight of countless gazes turning toward her. When she finally looked up, she met his eyes directly.
