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My future mother-in-law ripped the insulin pump from my waist at my sister’s wedding, threw it into a bin of lobster shells, and laughed, "There. Now you’re cured of your need for attention." / Chapter 9 / 10

Chapter 9 - Horizons

Two years after that fateful wedding at Bellefleur Manor, NovaMed Diagnostics officially went public on the NASDAQ exchange, not as a predatory corporate entity, but as a patient-first biomedical leader dedicated to accessible health technology worldwide.

My face graced the cover of Forbes magazine, but the headline wasn't about social scandals or high-society drama. It read: The Innovator Who Rewrote the Rules of Patient Care.

Marcus had transitioned out of active field investigations to head the bureau's corporate integrity division in Boston, giving us more time to actually build a home together. We lived in the glass cabin in the hills during the weekends, spending our mornings hiking through the pine forests and our evenings cooking together in the large kitchen.

One Sunday morning in July, I sat on the back porch with my laptop open, reviewing clinical trial data for our latest pediatric glucose monitoring patch.

Marcus walked out holding two mugs of steaming coffee, setting one down on the wooden table before wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind, pressing a warm kiss into my hair.

"You're working too hard, CEO Vance," he teased gently, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I'm just putting the finishing touches on the European rollout," I smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "It's going to help thousands of children manage their diagnoses without ever feeling like they have to hide."

Marcus smiled, tightening his arms around me. "You know, looking back at where we were two years ago... it feels like another lifetime."

"It was another lifetime," I agreed, turning slightly to look up into his familiar gray eyes. "In that life, I was defined by someone else's cruelty. In this life, I get to define every single page."

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My continuous glucose monitor gave a tiny, cheerful chime from my arm—a green light blinking softly against my skin. 108 mg/dL. Perfect. Steady. Alive.

Marcus reached down, intertwining his fingers with mine, his wedding ring catching the bright morning sunlight.

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