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The Coldhearted Surgeon's Billionaire Revenge

Chapter 7 7

Word Count: 625    |    Released on: 31/01/2026

real. Anya scrubbed her skin until it was pink, trying to wash a

her clothes she had packed: a pair of grey

in these clothe

ed musty. She n

he back patio. The ocean roared in the

d the side of

fr

were floor-to-ceiling glass. He had no curtains. He

rk, minimalist. White leather couches, abstrac

n was

oned halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled up to his e

tiger, full of restless energy. He ran

sto

ut the glass wall, d

of the overhang. She was

e stood in the same darkness she did, a silhouette against the lighted r

ne rang in

the screen.

yes locked on the man

el

s illegal,

imate, as if he were st

ishbowl, Julian. You're practi

a sip of his drink. She could imagine the mov

some air," Anya

"From Bentley. From the board. Fr

hiding fr

standby. We can draft the terms for the emergency board meeting now. Or

" she asked, repeating the

topped moving. He turned

ce dropping lower. "I want you

is leverage,

talking about leve

d. It was heavy, lad

that had nothing

, Julian,"

lied. "Bentley is weak, but he's not

hun

back inside his glass house. T

rring. Anya blinked, tryin

e dark, watching her. But

ng door. She pulled the curtains shut, overlappin

amiliar bed, stari

leve

echoed i

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The Coldhearted Surgeon's Billionaire Revenge
The Coldhearted Surgeon's Billionaire Revenge
“I stood at the edge of the red carpet, my pulse a steady seventy-two beats per minute. I wasn't the girl they broke eighteen years ago; I was a machine of flesh and bone, calibrated by the sterile lights of the operating theater. But the moment I stepped inside the Hamptons estate, the trap snapped shut. Belle Estrada stood on the stage, her emerald dress shimmering as she pointed a blood-red nail at me. She accused me of corporate espionage, flashing "stolen" lab data across the massive screens for the entire elite crowd to see. The room turned into a shark tank. When the family patriarch collapsed from a massive stroke, Bentley-the man who once watched them ruin me-didn't see a doctor rushing to help. He saw a criminal. He lunged at me, hissing that he would have my medical license revoked and blacklist me from every lab in the country. "This is over," he snarled. "I'll bury you until you're broke and begging." I looked at him and felt nothing but cold, analytical curiosity. They really thought they could steal my life's work a second time. They thought I was still the girl who would cry and beg for mercy while they carved up my future. "You can't blacklist the patent holder, Bentley," I said, my voice cutting through his rage like a scalpel. I held up my phone, displaying the official filing from the USPTO. I wasn't just a guest; I was the sole owner of the very drug they were trying to sell. And standing in the shadows was Julian Vance, the most feared venture capitalist in the city, waiting to collect on his investment. The Everetts wanted a war, but they didn't realize I had already bought the battlefield.”