Taming The Sinner: The Doctor's Cold Game

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 806 | Released on: 13/01/2026

the metallic tang of fear. Authur's smirk deepened. He thought he had won. He thought this wa

t teach you how to serve at finishing school? Or

smile devoid of warmth, clinical and detached. It was the smile she

rt. Her fingers closed around a small, crinkled packet she alwa

e sound-snap, snap-was

ng her foot back slight

Helena sa

ead, her gloved hand shot out and clamped around Jasmin

asmine yelped, t

mine's lower calf and the heel of her foot. There was a patch of r

eyes with Jasmine. "I saw

froze.

t, didn't you?" Helena lied smoothly. She hadn't seen Jasmine's chart, b

" Jasmine

o a conspiratorial, pitying tone. She turned her head slightly to look at Authur, who was frowning,

into the closet, the towel around his waist s

loves, dropping them into a wastebasket in the corne

ding up and wiping her hands on her dress. "Very contagious. T

to Jasmine, horror dawning in his eyes. He took

the fur coat slipping off her shoulders. "It's

ored. "But untreated... it leads to

ng in the air li

hands, as if he could already feel the itc

" Authur

lying!" Jasmine plead

were holding a knife. "Don

. She realized she had lost. With a sob of frustration, she grabbed her shoes a

fell sile

ing heavily. He scratched his arm. Then his ches

d at Helena. "You

g to bet your... equipment on it? I'd suggest a f

e bathroom. The shower turned on again, louder this time. Helena could

ving her exhausted. Her knees shook. She leaned against the s

nd Sophia: Level 1 cleared. The

wrapped in a bathrobe now, tied tightly at the waist. He didn't look scared anymore. He loo

pat, walking past her to the b

Chapter End

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Taming The Sinner: The Doctor's Cold Game

Amigo Billionaires

“I stood before the double doors of the master suite, my hand hovering inches from the polished brass. As a surgeon, I was trained to steady my heart before a cut, but the silence in the Alexander estate felt like the heavy, oppressive pause that always preceded a scream. I pushed the mahogany door open to find my fiancé, Authur, tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets with a woman named Jasmine. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and a floral perfume that wasn't mine-a brutal reality check just twenty-four hours before the merger meant to save my family from total ruin. Authur didn't look guilty; he looked amused, coldly telling me to close the door because I was letting in a draft. When his parents unexpectedly arrived, I was forced to hide his mistress and pretend our "intensity" had ruined the room, donning his discarded shirt to look disheveled just to protect the Lawrence family stock price. The humiliation only deepened on our wedding morning when Authur issued a sadistic ultimatum over the phone. "Wear your scrubs to the altar-the ones covered in blood-or I'll watch your father's company go belly up by lunch." He wanted to turn our wedding at St. Patrick's Cathedral into a public execution of my dignity. I walked down the aisle in shapeless navy cotton and crimson stains, enduring the horrified gasps of the elite who labeled me an "insane gold digger." Authur stood at the altar, reeking of whiskey and malice, certain he had finally broken me and turned my professional oath into a circus act. But as the priest began the vows, I looked at the man who thought he owned me and realized I wasn't his victim-I was his surgeon. I had the footage of his debauchery ready to play for the world, and as we shared a punishing, hateful kiss for the cameras, I knew the real war had only just begun.”