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 7
The click of the lock was loud in the sudden silence of the hospital room.
Graham turned the deadbolt, sealing them inside. The sound made Gerry flinch.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Gerry asked, his voice suddenly nervous. "Why are you locking the door?"
Graham didn't answer right away. He walked over to the window and pulled the blinds shut, casting the room in a dim, shadowy light. Then he pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, crossing his long legs.
The friendly, professional demeanor was gone. In its place was a cold, calculating intensity that made the temperature in the room drop ten degrees.
"Let's talk about your arm, Mr. Brady," Graham said, his voice low and even.
Gerry swallowed hard, his earlier bravado evaporating. "Look, man, I don't know who you are, but-"
"I'm the man who just married Jaimie Stuart this morning," Graham interrupted. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and held it up for Gerry to see.
It was the photo of the marriage certificate.
Gerry stared at it, his eyes widening in shock. "What? You... you married her? Today?"
"That's right," Graham said, pocketing the phone. "Which means that the woman you were just trying to extort is now my wife. And the man you were slandering to my face is my father-in-law."
The color completely drained from Gerry's face. He looked like he was going to be sick. "This is... you can't..."
"I can," Graham said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And I have. Now, let's review the facts."
He opened the chart and flipped a page. "You were intoxicated and high when you confronted Jaimie's father. You initiated the physical assault. The injury to your arm, while unfortunate, is a direct result of your own aggressive actions. In legal terms, that's called assumption of risk."
"You're a doctor!" Gerry sputtered. "You can't use my medical stuff against me! That's... that's a HIPAA violation!"
"I'm not disclosing your information to the public, Mr. Brady," Graham said, his voice dangerously soft. "I'm simply using it to prepare my wife's legal defense. As her husband, and as your attending physician, I have every right to review the circumstances of your injury. And if you pursue this frivolous lawsuit, I will be compelled to testify under oath about your blood alcohol level, your drug use, and the security footage that proves you are lying."
Gerry was breathing hard, his chest heaving. The trap was closing around him, and he could see no way out.
"Furthermore," Graham continued, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, "your demand for fifty thousand dollars, coupled with your threat to ruin her father's career, constitutes extortion. And filing a lawsuit based on a false narrative is perjury. Both are felonies in this state."
He stood up, towering over the bed. He looked down at Gerry with an expression of absolute disdain.
"So, here is what is going to happen," Graham said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are going to drop this ridiculous lawsuit. You are going to tell your lawyer that you've changed your mind. You are going to pack up your things, and you are going to leave East City. And you are never going to contact Jaimie or her family again."
"Or what?" Gerry asked, his voice cracking.
Graham smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was a cold, terrifying thing. "Or I will ensure every piece of evidence, from the restaurant's security footage to your own medical records, is presented in court. A good lawyer can build a very strong case for perjury and extortion with what we have. Do you want to risk that?"
He picked up the chart and tucked it under his arm. He walked to the door and unlocked it.
"Get well soon, Mr. Brady," he said, his voice shifting back to the professional, detached tone of a doctor. "I'll check on you tomorrow."
He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind him.
Jaimie was standing a few feet away, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
"Is it done?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"It's done," Graham said. "He won't bother you again."
She wanted to ask how. She wanted to know exactly what he had said, what leverage he had used. But looking at his face, the hard, unyielding mask, she knew she wouldn't get an answer.
He started walking down the hall, expecting her to follow. She fell into step beside him, her mind racing.
She should have been relieved. Gerry was gone. The lawsuit was over. Her father was safe.
But as they walked out of the hospital into the bright afternoon sun, all she could feel was a deep, chilling sense of dread. The man walking beside her had just dismantled a blackmailer in less than ten minutes, using nothing but his words and his position.
He was powerful. He was ruthless. And he owned her.
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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."