No Longer His Captive Surgeon Wife

of the Chief of Surgery's offi

er white coat, a stark contrast to the stale, conditioned air of the

gh the gaps in the window blinds. Amy bl

in the center of the Persian rug sharpened into

it was Am

r chin and the pristine cut of her designer hospit

ck of her throat. Her lungs seized, trapping the oxygen in her chest

drifted past

was a tall figure in a tailored, pitch-b

am Gr

ry-sharp jawline, straight nose, and eyes

ided in the dead

shock cracked the ice in Beckham's eyes. Then, the fro

m behind his desk. He cleared his throat,

I believe you need to meet t

esture was slight, but it commanded absolu

e desk and walked s

rug, each step a muffled, rhythmic t

His sheer size blocked out the sunlight, casting

s cardiac repair surgery i

ommand. It wasn't a request. It was

e coat. She gripped the cold rubber tubing of her stet

s dead stare. A cold, hollow laugh

N

he slumped slightly in her wheelchair, her hand flutter

am's eyes plummeted. The

dettas into medical practice, Amy," he

flooded her mouth. "You mean like the time you threw me out on the street five

en them. He reached out, his larg

p. His grip was a vi

er cheek, "I will make sure your name is erased from the entire Nor

. Her eyes were de

st away. The sharp smack echoed in the room

putting a safe distance between h

p, adjusting the collar of he

could crush under your heel," Amy stated, h

and marched toward th

dyguards in black suits stepped out from the shadows of the

er back like a physical blow. "Whatever

ead. She stared at the bro

out of my way,

d. They looked past her

etched. Then, Beckh

tepped back, dro

tepped out. She slammed the heavy wood shut behind

ridor. Her chest heaved as she dragged air into her burning l