Paula Famine had never felt this excited about someone's birthday. She wasn't one to show much emotion, but for Sammie, she had gone the extra mile. She prepared his favourite red velvet cake herself — the one with the delicate vanilla cream frosting and the strawberries tucked beneath. She'd packed it into the back seat of her Range Rover, along with a fine Italian wine, two champagne flutes, and the Cartier wristwatch she had bought him the week before. It was going to be the time of his life. Or so she thought.
As she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a clean napkin, Vanessa stood by the entrance with arms folded.
"My dear," Vanessa began with her signature smirk, "are you aware that Samuel Jackson will never marry you?"
Paula paused mid-step, her fingers tightening slightly around the napkin.
"Get out of here," she said without looking back.
Vanessa scoffed. "We've invested so much in these people, and just nothing! Nothing!" Her voice rose in anger before she stormed off into her room, muttering about the disgrace and waste.
Paula said nothing. She walked out with her head high, placed the cake carefully in the car, and set off. She hadn't told Sammie she was coming. It was all part of the surprise. And what a surprise it would be.
***
St. George's Hospital always buzzed during the day, but Paula arrived just after lunch, when the corridors were relatively quiet. Everyone at the hospital knew her. After all, she had personally funded the reconstruction of their surgical ward, had donated to the paediatrics unit, and was dating one of their most brilliant young doctors.
She was directed to Sammie's private office. He often shared it with his father, George, when they weren't in surgery. Paula reached the door and was about to knock when she heard voices from within. She paused.
She wasn't eavesdropping. Not intentionally. But the words stopped her cold.
"I am very sure Sophia will not resist me when she finds out what I have acquired from the Famine's wealth," Sammie said, his voice smug and full of laughter.
George chuckled. "When do you plan to initiate the breakup?"
"I'll make sure she sees me cheating. Paula flares up over things like that. She'll explode. She always does."
George gave a hearty laugh. "You took your wisdom from me, son."
Paula's breath caught in her throat. Her legs trembled. She staggered back from the door as if it had physically pushed her. The words swam in her ears. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, ragged breaths.
She turned and ran.
***
She stumbled into the car, nearly dropping the cake box. The keys slipped from her fingers. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
She screamed.
A gut-wrenching cry that filled the air inside the vehicle. She pounded her fists against the steering wheel, tears streaming down her face.
Her phone rang. She barely recognised the screen.
"Mum," she gasped. "Mother, please… come to my aid. I am dying."
Everything — the dinners, the trips, the private hospital renovations, the investment accounts — all of it had been for Sammie. All of it… used. Her family had emptied their resources to see this man rise. And all he ever wanted was to suck her dry.
***
The Famine household was unusually quiet. Paula sat in the living room with her mother, father, younger sister, Vanessa, and their solicitor, Miss Greta Duvall.
She had told them everything. No one interrupted her.
"So what do we do now?" her father asked gravely.
Paula lifted her head slowly. "We get our money back. Every last pound."
Vanessa leaned forward. "If we confront them, they'll cover their tracks. We have to be surgical."
Miss Duvall cleared her throat. "I may have a solution. A quiet one."
She laid out a printed sheet: Evermore Innovations Ltd. A dummy company she had registered that week, posing as a rare property and crypto investment firm. Paula's idea.
"We'll approach them anonymously," Duvall continued. "Present the firm as a high-yield investor in exotic property. We bait them with a pitch — make them believe we can turn five million into fifteen within six months."
"And they'll bite," Vanessa added, "because they're greedy, and they think they're smart."
"We'll set up a false address," Duvall said, "one that leads nowhere. The investments will seem real — elegant portfolios, images of skyscrapers in Dubai and Singapore. But the actual accounts will be ours. As soon as they wire the money in, we disappear."
"What if they trace it?" Mrs Famine asked.
"They won't," Paula said coldly. "Because I know how they think. Sammie won't involve lawyers. He'd be too ashamed. He won't report it either. He'll think the so called Sophia will find out. And George? He'd rather die than be exposed as a fool."
Her father looked at her, a mixture of pain and pride in his eyes.
"Then let's begin."
***
George stormed into Sammie's office, eyes wild.
"The account's empty!" he shouted. "They've vanished!"
Sammie spun around. "What do you mean?"
"Evermore Innovations! Gone! The website's offline, phones are dead. Emails bounce. I've been calling all day."
"No… no, no." Sammie rushed to his laptop. He refreshed the company page. 'Error 404.'
He checked his emails. No replies. He dialled the CEO's number. Disconnected.
"They scammed us," George said, falling into a chair. "We've lost it all."
Sammie's head dropped into his hands. "No. Not the Canary Wharf house…"
"All of it. The house. The watches. The stock."
They sat there for hours, not saying much. The golden boys of St. George's — now shadows of what they once were.
***
The patient's heartbeat steadied. The bypass was successful. Sammie stripped off his gloves and stepped into the scrub room. George joined him.
They washed their hands in silence.
"You saved a life today," George said.
"So did you."
"But we still go home to nothing."
"I had to sell the Bentley," Sammie muttered.
George turned off the tap and shook off the water. "We have our hands. Still steady. Still saving others. Just not ourselves."
***
Paula stood at a fundraiser in Kensington. Her voice calm. Her smile radiant.
"Kindness should never be mistaken for blindness," she said to the crowd. "Some betrayals are just the world's way of clearing your path."
In the back of the hall, Vanessa received a message from Gretta.
"The Canary Wharf house is gone. They're selling the last car next week."
Paula didn't flinch.
She just raised her glass.
"To healing. And to closure."