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The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 3 3

Word Count: 918 | Released on: 06/01/2026

eafening. Beep-

would have been impossible

anchoring his head. With her right hand, she drove the firs

ed. A spasm ran t

he felt for the base of his skull, finding the Fen

p. T

deep, twisting them sligh

ned into heavy thuds. They were using a r

pered, sweat beadin

he vibration traveled down the metal shaft, sending a micr

hed the

arrogant basta

turned green. The frantic bee

r lock

d, pulling the needles out in one fluid motion.

as's chest, grabbing the l

wake up!" she wa

erine, Dr. Hamilton, and

her son. She shrieked. "Get

ng a handful of Mia's hair

urying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She w

cart!" Dr. Hamilton yelled

r the paddles

He tapped

n saturation: 98%. Bl

ectly, impos

y sound was the steady beep..

ump of Mia's hair still in h

ispered. "Is the

"No... no, it's reading correctly. He's... he's b

she stammered, her voice trembling. "I saw him stop breat

atient doesn't reverse bradycardia

inst the floor ti

rs old, bent with age, but his eyes were sharp as diamonds. He looked at t

s he analyzed the data on the screen. "His vitals spiked the mo

olding. She fell to her knees beside

t." He pointed a gnarled finger at Mia. "You. You stay. Yo

m clear

He looked at her tear-stained face, th

th something that wasn't gratitude. It was hun

oor c

She slowly stood up. She wiped her f

cas was breathing deeply now,

life, Lucas,"

eedle marks. They were invis

e back of her neck stood

rner of the ceiling, a small red l

ge frame by frame, they mi

perfected in the favelas of Rio, she palmed the magnet. She walked casually toward the corner of the room, pretending to inspect the crown molding. When she was directly under the camera, she reached up, as if stret

mera, it looked like a devoted wife holding her husband's hand. In reality, her fingers w

Chapter End

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The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

Qing Shui Modern

“I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark-the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son's death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I'd fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"-the world's most dangerous underground surgeon-into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.”