Chapter 53
Collins
I stood in front of the mirror, studying my reflection.
Clean-shaven, crisp shirt tucked neatly, dark trousers pressed.
I dabbed on aftershave, inhaling the familiar sharp scent.
I wanted to look put-together—for her. After two weeks of missing her, I would finally see her again.
Not under ideal circumstances—not somewhere soft or private—but anywhere would do these days. Even a courtroom.
We’d been communicating quietly, through Zelda, exchanging careful messages and updates. But today… today, I would see her with my own eyes.
I grabbed my keys and slipped out the door. Marlon had promised to hold down the fort at the practice while I was out, battling legal papers and arguments, as if love itself were a crime.
The courthouse loomed before me, imposing and cold. I glanced at my watch—an hour early. Perfect. I needed the extra time to steady my nerves. Undoing my seatbelt, I stepped out of the car, with anticipation.
Inside, I immediately spotted Miss. Simmons. She was already standing near the entrance, reviewing some papers, calm and composed as ever. Our eyes met, and we shook hands.
“How are you doing, Dr. Collins?” she asked, her tone steady.
“Fine, thanks,” I admitted, a trace of tension in my voice. “Just…a bit nervous.”
She gave me a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t be. I’ve got this.”
Before I could respond, Michael appeared, walking toward us. The moment his gaze landed on Miss. Simmons, he froze, the air between them thickening.
“Morgan?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.
“Oh, Michael,” she said warmly, stepping forward to hug him. “Nice to see you.”
“You’re representing Dr. Collins?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Yes,” she replied smoothly. Then she raised an eyebrow. “And who is representing you?”
I felt a slight unease creep over me. They clearly knew each other. And I didn’t like it.
“My firm is representing me,” Michael said, keeping his voice steady.
“Good luck,” Morgan said lightly, before turning to me. “Shall we go inside, Dr. Collins?”
I followed, and I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. “So… you two know each other?”
“Yeah, we studied together,” she said carefully, keeping her tone neutral. “But trust me—strictly professional. Him being on the opposing side won’t affect anything. Otherwise, I would’ve declined this case.”
I nodded, a small, understanding smile playing on my lips. “Good to know. Thank you.”
Relief settled over me, and I straightened my shoulders. Today was going to be challenging—but at least I wasn’t facing it alone.
We took our seats in the courtroom. I adjusted the papers in front of me, pretending to review them, but my eyes barely registered the words. My hands fidgeted with the pen, tapping it against the table, though I wasn’t aware of it. All I could do was watch, waiting for the proceedings to start.
Then I looked up. And there she was. Anna.
The fire I could never tame. The only one worth bending the rules for.
The obsession I’d never apologize for. She sat there with that quiet grace, the kind that made the world around her fade into irrelevance.
Even in this cold, sterile courtroom, she radiated life, and every heartbeat of mine seemed to echo in response.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My focus wavered between the papers, the judge, and the truth of her presence.
She was the centre of my world—the reason every decision, every risk, every sleepless night mattered.
And now, seeing her here, watching me from across the room, I realized that nothing about this day would be ordinary.
The courtroom noise dimmed around me. All I could see, all I could feel, was her.
“All rise,” the bailiff's voice cut through my thoughts. I straightened instinctively as Michael took the stand. His posture was rigid, confident—too confident. His lawyer began the questioning.
“Mr. Miller,” the attorney said, voice clipped and professional, “when did you first discover that Dr. Collins was involved with your wife, his patient?”
Michael swallowed, his jaw tight. “I didn’t know at first. I thought he was just doing routine check-ups at her home. But then…when I came back to see her, she was living with him.”
“And prior to this, you had no idea their relationship was developing?”
“No. But I…I had my suspicions while she was still in hospital. He was always in her room when I got there. More time with her than any other patient. Grooming her…I thought he intended to steal her from me.”
“Thank you, no further questions,” the lawyer concluded, motioning him down.
Miss Simmons rose slowly, her presence shifting the energy in the room before she even spoke. She approached the stand with measured steps, her gaze steady on Michael.
“Mr. Miller,” she began, calm but precise, “you used the word grooming.”
He straightened slightly. “Yes.”
She tilted her head, almost curious. “Help the court understand that. How exactly does one ‘groom’ a patient who is in a coma?”
A quiet ripple moved through the courtroom.
Michael hesitated. “I meant… he was always there. Watching her. Waiting…”
“For her to wake up?” she cut in.
Silence.
She let it stretch for a beat before continuing.
“Weren’t you already divorced when you first came to her house?” Michael hesitated. “Yes, but…”
She leaned in slightly, letting the pause hang.
“You wanted to terminate her life support within six weeks of her being in a coma, even after learning the probability of a sixty–forty survival. Yet when Dr. Collins refused to do so—and effectively took guardianship from you—you filed for divorce while she was still unresponsive. Miss. Mathews is alive today because one doctor refused to give up.”
Michael’s face flushed. “I wouldn’t have filed for divorce—or requested termination of life support—if I knew the probability was favourable. But Dr. Collins made me believe it wasn’t.”
“Did you ask for clarification?” Miss. Simmons’ tone sharpened.
“No… but I expressed my thoughts. He could’ve told me differently.”
She fixed him with a stare that felt like it could pierce steel.
“Mr. Miller, it is not the doctor’s role to influence a decision made by the patient’s legal guardian.
Dr. Collins did not pull the plug, nor did he recommend it.
You did. Dr. Collins opposed it. So how, exactly, do you justify accusing him of stealing your wife when your divorce had been filed long before any relationship between them began? ”
Michael opened his mouth, flustered. “Dr. Collins isn’t here because he stole my wife—he’s here because of unethical doctor–patient contact.”
Miss. Simmons shook her head slowly. “According to Dr. Collins and his colleagues, any relationship began long after he resigned from the hospital and opened his own practice. Your accusation is not only weak—it’s irrelevant to the facts.
He acted within the bounds of professional ethics, and your claim rests on nothing but conjecture, Mr. Miller. ”
Michael’s mouth went dry. He shifted in his seat, words failing him, confidence crumbling under the precision of her questioning.
From where I sat, I couldn’t help but admire her—every question is deliberate, every challenge exact.
The fire in her eyes when she spoke made the courtroom shrink around us, focused entirely on truth.
I made a mental note to thank Marlon later; recommending her had been the smartest thing he’d done in weeks.