Flash Marriage To The Ruthless Surgeon
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
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Chapter 6
Jaimie had learned about Gerry’s hospitalization two days earlier, through a curt voicemail from his lawyer. The message stated that Gerry Brady had sustained a fractured right arm during what the lawyer called "the incident at the restaurant," that he was being treated at St. Clare’s Hospital, and that his legal team was preparing to pursue maximum damages. The words had burrowed into her brain like a splinter she couldn’t remove. She had spent the following forty-eight hours staring at her ceiling, her bank balance, and the wall, cycling through every possible outcome until only one desperate option remained. She had to go there. She had to see him. She had to try.
The walls of the hospital corridor were painted a dull, institutional green.
Jaimie sat in a plastic chair outside room 412, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. She had spent the last hour staring at the wall, trying to convince herself that this wasn't a mistake.
She had come to the hospital to see Gerry. It was a desperate move, maybe a stupid one, but she had to try. She had checked her bank account again this morning-$3,247.56. It was a joke. Gerry wanted fifty thousand.
She had to negotiate. She had to beg if she had to. Anything to avoid a lawsuit.
As she waited, she overheard two nurses chatting at their station. "Did you hear Dr. Evans is out sick? They had to pull in that new surgeon from Washington to cover his patients. Hired him almost overnight, apparently-some kind of emergency credentialing." The other nurse nodded. "Yeah, Dr. Lawson. He specifically asked to take over the case in 412. Said he wanted to review the file personally." A cold knot formed in Jaimie's stomach, but she pushed the thought away. It had to be a coincidence.
She stood up, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door to Gerry's room.
He was sitting up in bed, his right arm in a cast resting on a pillow. The TV was on, playing some daytime talk show. He looked up as she walked in, and a slow, slimy smile spread across his face.
"Well, well," he said, his voice nasally. "Look who finally came to her senses. Did you bring the check, or are you here to watch me call my lawyer?"
"I don't have fifty thousand dollars, Gerry," she said, staying near the door. "I have five. That's all I can get right now. Take it, and we can forget this whole thing."
Gerry laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Five grand? That barely covers my legal fees, Jaimie. You're going to have to do better than that."
"I can't. You know I can't."
He leaned forward, his eyes roaming over her body in a way that made her skin crawl. "Maybe we can work out a different kind of payment," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, for old times' sake."
"Go to hell," she snapped, the anger flaring up and burning through her fear.
"Don't talk to me like that!" Gerry shouted, his face twisting with rage. "You did this to me! You and your crazy father! I'm the victim here!"
"Mr. Brady, please keep your voice down."
A nurse appeared in the doorway, a heavyset woman with a stern expression. "This is a hospital, not a bar."
"She's harassing me!" Gerry whined, pointing at Jaimie with his good hand. "I'm a patient! I'm in pain, and she's here yelling at me!"
The nurse looked at Jaimie, her gaze disapproving. "Ma'am, if you're causing a disturbance, I'll have to ask you to leave."
"I'm not-" Jaimie started, but before she could finish, the door swung open again.
A man stepped into the room. He was tall, wearing a white lab coat over a crisp dress shirt. He had a stethoscope draped around his neck and a patient chart in his hand.
Jaimie's heart stopped.
It was Graham.
He walked past her as if she didn't exist, his attention focused entirely on Gerry. "Mr. Brady," he said, his voice professional and cool. "I'm Dr. Lawson. How are we feeling today?"
Gerry's face went slack. He looked from Graham to Jaimie, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "You... you know her?"
Graham didn't even glance at Jaimie. "I know she's visiting during restricted hours. Miss, I'll have to ask you to step out."
Jaimie couldn't move. She was frozen to the spot, her brain trying to process what she was seeing. Dr. Lawson. Graham was a doctor at this hospital. Graham was Gerry's doctor.
This wasn't a coincidence. This was a setup.
Gerry, oblivious to the tension, saw an opportunity. He turned to Graham, his face a mask of suffering. "Doctor, you have to do something. She attacked me. Her father broke my arm. They're trying to ruin me. And now she's here, threatening me!"
He was playing the victim, using the presence of an authority figure to bolster his case. He thought the doctor was on his side.
Graham listened patiently, his expression neutral. He checked the monitors, adjusted the IV drip, and made a note on the chart.
"Mr. Brady," Graham said, his voice still calm. "Your chart indicates a blood alcohol level of point one two upon admission, and traces of oxycodone in your system. That suggests you were not in a sound state of mind during the altercation."
Gerry's face went pale. "That's... that's not relevant."
"It's highly relevant to your credibility," Graham said, his tone sharpening slightly. "Furthermore, the security footage from the restaurant shows you initiating the physical contact with an elderly man. A man who was simply defending himself."
Gerry started to sweat. "You can't... that's private!"
Graham finally looked at Jaimie. His eyes were flat, empty. "Miss Stuart," he said, using her maiden name like a weapon. "Please wait outside. I need to discuss my patient's treatment plan with him. Privately."
Jaimie wanted to scream. She wanted to demand answers. But the look in his eyes told her not to push it. Not here.
She turned and walked out of the room. The door clicked shut behind her.
She leaned against the wall, her legs weak. Graham was inside with Gerry. He was Gerry's doctor. He had access to Gerry's medical records, his blood work, his everything.
The web he had spun was so much bigger than she had realized. She wasn't just married to him. She was trapped in his world, and he had been watching her long before he knocked on her door.
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9.1
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
7.9
June was an ordinary architect struggling to pay rent, completely estranged from her high-society mother.
But one night, she was kidnapped and beaten in an abandoned warehouse by Gage Becker, the city's most ruthless billionaire, who demanded payback for her mother's sins.
Gage pointed a high-definition camera at June's battered face and video-called her mother, threatening to release the footage and ruin her upcoming billion-dollar wedding.
"I will never throw away a billion-dollar marriage for a useless daughter."
Her mother's cold voice echoed through the warehouse before the line went dead.
From that moment, Gage systematically destroyed June's life. She was publicly humiliated and forced to hack off her own hair with a cigar cutter. She was blacklisted from every firm in the city, evicted by her landlord, and violently mugged in a freezing New York blizzard.
Curled up in an icy tunnel waiting to die, June felt a suffocating despair. She hadn't spoken to her mother in months. Why did she have to endure this hell for a woman who didn't even care if she lived or died? Why was a monster like Gage so obsessed with driving her to the grave?
When Gage's armored Maybach pulled up, he stepped into the snow to mock her, waiting for her to finally surrender and beg for his mercy.
But the absolute humiliation snapped the last thread of June's sanity.
Instead of crying, she lunged forward with feral energy and sank her teeth directly into the devil's flesh.
7.9
Hannah came home under a false identity, ready to keep her head down and avoid trouble. Then a near-drowning opened her eyes, and the family she had wanted gave her nothing but disappointment.
She severed every tie, shed the disguise, and rose in revenge as a miracle doctor, brilliant hacker, and feared underworld ruler. Shock followed her family at every turn.
Her parents regretted everything. Her eldest brother clung desperately to the bond of their shared blood, while her second brother gave up his entire fortune just to earn her forgiveness. Her third brother offered up his own body for a surgery-all to save her.
But Hannah stayed cold and built her empire alone. Only one deadly rival refused to be ignored.
"I was hired to kill you, mister."
"Then take my heart, too."
9.1
My husband, Dante Moretti, the feared Underboss, signed the divorce papers I slipped him without a glance. Too busy texting his true love, Sofia, he was blind to the annulment decree ending everything. The Reaper couldn't see the death of his own marriage.
For three years, I was Elena, his silent wife, the "Caged Canary," cleaning his messes while meticulously planning my escape from our loveless world.
He dismissed me for Sofia's every whim, publicly shaming me after a past love letter was read, then abandoning me again for her fake crisis.
That night, he violently shoved me against a wall, leaving me bleeding and concussed, rushing instead to protect Sofia. Discarded and injured, my invisible love became a weapon against me.
His crushing blindness, the cold realization I was a mere placeholder, fueled a profound injustice. How could he be so lethal, yet oblivious to his wife, favoring the one who betrayed him?
With chilling resolve, I uploaded Sofia's confession, initiated a massive financial transfer dismantling his empire, and staged my own death. Under a new identity, I fled to San Francisco, ready to build my power, far from his bloody, deceitful world.
8.7
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.
8.5
Five years ago, Nina Hale lost everything... her family, her reputation, and the man she once loved. Betrayed by her own sister and abandoned by those she trusted most, she disappeared without a trace.
Now she's back.
With a new identity and a burning determination, Nina is ready to reclaim her life and chase the dream she once gave up: becoming a star actress. But her return awakens old enemies, and her scheming sister Lydia is determined to ruin her again.
Just when Nina thinks things can't get worse, she's caught in another trap... and unexpectedly crosses paths with a quiet, lonely little boy.
Ethan Grant hasn't spoken in years.
Feeling responsible for him, Nina agrees to stay and help the child come out of his shell. But she didn't expect Ethan's dangerously charming father, Lucas Grant, to enter the picture.
Cold, powerful, and impossible to read, Lucas slowly finds himself drawn to the woman who brightens his son's world.
What begins as a simple act of kindness soon turns into something far more complicated, because Nina came back for revenge.
She never planned to fall in love.
**********
"I saw you with him," Lucas said quietly, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
Nina exhaled, crossing her arms. "You don't get to care."
"Don't I?" He stepped in, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
"This is just a contract."
"Then why does it bother me?" His hand hovered near her waist, not touching-yet.
"It shouldn't." Her breath faltered.
His gaze darkened, "And yet it does."