OLIVIA
I was trembling all over as I stared at the man inside the consultation room, fear crashing over me like a storm.
“A cheap, fat girl like that? I would never date her.”
That was what he had said to his friends after a one-night stand.
Now, he had become my daughter’s doctor—Dr. Noah Ezekiel Morgan.
The woman he had despised had given birth to his daughter.
He knew nothing about what happened afterward. Seven years had passed since the last time we met, and I had never imagined I would run into him again.
As if fate were mocking me, he was now the very heart specialist assigned to treat my daughter.
I bit down on my lower lip. Should I turn around and leave immediately? I glanced at the little hand holding mine. My daughter looked up at me, confusion filling her eyes. I forced a smile and shook my head, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay.
I thought I had already run far enough.
Three months ago, I moved with Hannah from Hanover, New Hampshire, to Manhattan. Not because we liked the noise or the chaos, but because I had no other choice.
In Hanover, I had lived with the shadows of my past for far too long. The town was so small that even changing my hairstyle could become gossip at the church lunch table—let alone raising a child “without a father.”
I wanted better medical resources for my daughter. And I wanted a chance to start over.
Manhattan was expensive, loud, and cruel—but no one knew me here. I no longer had to endure pointing fingers or fake smiles with my uncle’s acquaintances. I now worked as an advertising sales rep at a Manhattan ad agency, earning just enough to scrape by.
When Dr. Smith suggested transferring Hannah to the city’s top cardiac specialist—Dr. Harrison—I believed it marked the beginning of our turnaround.
That was, until I stood at the doorway of this office and saw that familiar back.
I was here today for my daughter’s appointment. My six-year-old, Hannah, was born with congenital heart disease caused by premature birth. To ensure her condition was closely monitored, I had been bringing her in for regular checkups.
Dr. Smith, who had cared for Hannah since birth, recommended consulting Dr. Harrison—a renowned cardiologist and the director of Palo Alto Medical Center. According to his latest evaluation, my daughter needed surgery.
Just hearing the name of the hospital where Dr. Harrison worked told me I would need a huge sum of money to cover the procedure. But I didn’t care how much it cost—as long as it could save my daughter’s life.
After we arrived at the hospital, the nurse told me Dr. Harrison was out of town and recommended Dr. Morgan, who had just returned from overseas. She explained that Dr. Morgan was Dr. Harrison’s favorite student and held both an MD and a PhD. After hearing his credentials, I agreed.
Who could have imagined that the Dr. Morgan she mentioned was Noah?
“Come in.”
Noah’s low voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
He lifted his head and looked in our direction. His gaze lingered on me for a moment before he returned to his work. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat, and instinctively, I clenched my fists.
“Mom, you’re hurting me,” Hannah whispered.
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” I said immediately, loosening my grip. Just as I was about to explain, Noah spoke again.
“Ms. Evans, how can I help you?”
His tone was calm—professionally neutral, like any other doctor.
In that instant, I felt a rush of relief, followed almost immediately by the urge to laugh at myself. There was no way he recognized me. The woman standing before him now was nothing like the girl in his memory.
I had never planned to tell him we had a child. What happened between us that night was nothing more than a transaction. And with so many women lining up to sleep with him, how could he possibly remember someone like me?
He was the heir to a billion-dollar business empire spanning three continents, with interests in finance and energy. I was just an orphan adopted by my uncle after losing my parents. There was no way he would remember me.
Yes, we had attended the same university—Dartmouth College. But on that campus, he was always the star of every party. I was the girl hiding in the shadows of the library, wrapped in oversized sweaters.
Back then, I weighed over two hundred pounds. I had social anxiety. No matter how good my grades were, no one noticed. I didn’t belong in his world. Even if we passed each other in the hallway, his eyes would never pause on me for even half a second.
I smiled politely and led Hannah to his desk. “Dr. Morgan, we were referred by Dr. Smith,” I said as I took Hannah’s medical file out of my bag. “This is Hannah’s latest record. It should give you a clearer picture of her condition.”
Noah’s long fingers picked up the file. He didn’t even look at me as he opened it and began reading carefully.
From this close distance, I observed him again. He looked far more mature than he had seven years ago—his hair was shorter, his features sharper. Even beneath the white coat, the muscles in his arms looked like those of a beast, ready to spring at any moment.
He had always been popular. Women were easily drawn to him. So it wasn’t surprising that I meant nothing to him. I shook my head, forcing away the unnecessary disappointment. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Hannah’s treatment.
After what felt like an eternity, Noah finally looked up from the file. His sharp gray eyes locked onto mine.
“Ms. Evans, based on Hannah’s condition, we need to proceed with surgery as soon as possible,” he said evenly. “Her heart is in a very critical state. Any further delay could make the condition harder to control and may affect her long-term health.”
I clenched my teeth, my heart sinking. “Are you sure the surgery will completely cure her?”
“Mom… do I really have to have surgery? I think it’ll hurt,” Hannah said timidly.
I had completely forgotten she was still there. I was about to comfort her, but Noah moved faster. He crouched down in front of her, his voice suddenly gentle—completely different from the cold tone he used with me.
“Hey there, what’s your name, little one?”
“Hannah Evans,” she answered shyly.
“That’s a beautiful name,” Noah said, a breathtaking smile curving his lips. He took out a stethoscope and gently placed it on her chest, his voice incredibly soft. “The doctor just wants to listen to your little heart. It won’t hurt at all.”
Hannah looked up at him, her lashes trembling slightly, her small hand clutching the sleeve of his white coat. “Dr. Morgan, I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
My throat tightened. Instinctively, I tried to stop her. “Hannah—”
But Noah cut in quickly, his tone calm with a hint of teasing. “Is it because I’m handsome?”
Hannah burst into giggles, her nervousness instantly melting away.
“Yes! You look like that doctor from The Good Doctor—the one who always saves all the kids!”
Noah paused, his gaze softening. “Then I’ll have to be like him and help you get better.”
“Will I really get better? 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? When you recover, we’ll race. I bet you’ll run faster than me.”
Hannah looked up at me. “Mom, can we?”
I nearly froze again. Noah wanted to race with Hannah? Images of them together—close, like father and daughter—flashed through my mind. I shook my head, telling myself he was just trying to comfort her.
I patted her head and nodded. “Of course.”
Noah stood up and said to Hannah, “I know a really fun place in the hospital. Why don’t you go check it out with the nurse?”
I immediately understood that he wanted to talk to me alone. “Thank you,” I said as the nurse approached.
Once the nurse led Hannah out of the office, only Noah and I remained.
My nerves flared again—though I shouldn’t have been nervous. He clearly hadn’t recognized me. Besides, I had changed my name. I was no longer Emma Cooper. I was Olivia Evans. I was no longer the two-hundred-pound woman I used to be. My weight was completely normal now.
Even my best friend Grace hadn’t recognized me the first time she saw me again—I looked nothing like I did before.
Since high school, I had struggled with weight due to hypothyroidism. The condition slowed my metabolism, making weight loss nearly impossible. But after pregnancy, my thyroid function improved, helping me return to my original weight.
Still, the moment our eyes met, all my strength drained away. I gripped the strap of my worn-out bag tightly and took a deep breath.
“Dr. Morgan, what did you want to tell me? Is Hannah’s surgery especially complicated?” I asked anxiously.
“No. The surgery itself is well within my capabilities,” Noah replied quickly. His gaze flicked briefly over my casual clothes and my old bag. “It’s just… the cost will be high. Are you sure your insurance will cover it?”
I had insurance, but it wasn’t comprehensive enough to cover the entire procedure. With my income, paying the full amount would be difficult. I shook my head slightly. “I don’t have full coverage for this kind of surgery. But I’ll find a way to raise the money. That’s why I’m here.”
His flawless professionalism and detached gaze stabbed into me, painfully reminding me of something from seven years ago—the cruel words I had once overheard him say:
“I’d never date a cheap, fat girl like that.”
He had been standing with a few friends on the steps of Dartmouth’s medical school when he said it. They laughed loudly. I was passing by with a cup in my hands, and I heard every word.
I clenched my fists.
Back then, his words had dragged my life into a dark vortex. I had nearly been swallowed by depression. I had even thought about ending everything. But the moment I discovered I was pregnant with Hannah, everything changed. From that point on, his judgment lost most of its power over me.
“He’s an asshole,” I told myself firmly. “I will never let an asshole ruin my life.”
“I assure you, the money won’t be a problem,” I said sharply, forcing down my anger. “Just schedule 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 soaked with cold sweat.
A deep, consuming fear seized me.
What if someone as powerful and privileged as Noah discovered that Hannah was his daughter? What if he tried to fight me for custody?
I could never let that happen.
I made up my mind—once Hannah’s surgery was over, we would leave.
