My Ex-Husband's Regret: The Surgeon's Return

Felicity Roman POV:

I had just survived a grueling thirty-hour surgical rotation and was on the verge of collapsing at the scrub sink when my husband, Garold Peck, suddenly kicked open the emergency room doors carrying Karlie with a twisted ankle, demanding I get out there immediately to treat her.

"Dr. Roman, he looks like he's going to tear the building down!" Nurse supervisor Sarah was practically in tears, her voice a panicked whisper.

I stared blankly at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror, snapped a pair of purple surgical gloves over my raw knuckles, and said, "I'll handle it," before pushing through the double doors.

Even from ten yards away, the air around the triage desk felt stripped of oxygen.

Garold stood like an oppressive iron wall in the center of the corridor. His massive hands-the same hands that had beaten opponents bloody on the ice-were now cradling a petite girl against his broad chest as if she were a priceless treasure.

Karlie Nguyen. A rookie model. She was swallowed up by Garold's oversized black-and-gold hockey jacket, her honey-blonde curls spilling over his collar as she let out theatrical, breathy whimpers.

Garold looked up. His pitch-black eyes cut through the flurry of terrified nurses and slammed directly into mine.

"Put the patient on the gurney, Garold," I said, my voice a dead, clinical flatline. "This is a level-one trauma center, not a red carpet."

Karlie lifted her head from his chest. Her pale blue eyes were rimmed with tears, her lower lip trembling pitifully as she looked at my white coat.

"Sister Roman... please don't be mad at Garold. It's all my fault. I was just so clumsy and twisted my ankle on the curb..."

A faint, cold smile touched the corner of my lips. "There are only attending physicians here, Ms. Nguyen. Not sisters."

Garold's dark brows drew together in a furious line. He took a step forward, casting a heavy shadow over me. "Watch your tone, Felicity. She's in severe pain."

I met his glare without blinking. "If you don't want her to develop permanent ligament damage from a lack of circulation, put her down. Or you can stand here all night playing knight in shining armor."

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the nursing staff behind the desk. No one in Boston dared to speak to the city's ruthless captain like that.

Garold stared at me, his jaw muscles grinding. Finally, he set Karlie down onto the mobile gurney.

The second her back touched the mattress, Karlie grabbed the hem of his jacket, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Garold, don't fight with the doctor because of me. As long as you're happy, I can bear it..."

I ignored the sickening performance. I stepped up to the edge of the gurney and reached out toward Karlie's right ankle.

Before my fingertips even grazed her skin, Karlie let out a soft, pitiful hiss, shrinking backward with tears instantly welling in her eyes.

Instantly, Garold's hand clamped down around my left wrist like an iron vise.

The pressure was brutal, hard enough to grind my delicate wrist bones together. A jolt of sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm.

"Can't you be gentle?!" his voice dropped to a lethal growl.

I looked down at his thick fingers wrapping around my scrub sleeve. My own husband was willing to snap my wrist over a girl's fake whimper when I hadn't even touched her.

I yanked my hand back, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "Grade one sprain of the anterior talofibular ligament. If you had driven ten minutes slower, it would have healed itself before you reached the lobby."

Karlie's face flushed a violent, blotchy red. Her fingers dug so hard into the mattress that her knuckles turned white.

"Apply an ice pack for twenty minutes," I told the junior resident, scribbling on the chart without looking back. "Give her a tube of topical Voltaren gel, and send them to the billing desk."

"Garold..." Karlie whined from the bed, her voice trembling. "My foot feels so cold. I'm scared. Can you go pay the fees for me?"

Garold Peck, the ruthless billionaire who wouldn't even bat an eye when his own ribs were fractured on the ice, the man who coldly ordered his assistant to handle his own parents' hospital bills... was now nodding softly to a greenhorn model.

"Wait here," Garold said, his voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet tenderness I hadn't heard in three years. "I'll handle it."

My chest tightened with a sudden, suffocating wave of acid. It was so absurd it was almost funny.

I turned on my heel and walked straight into the staff locker room.

I peeled off my bloody scrubs, my body aching to the bone. Just as I unclasped my hair, the heavy metal door of the locker room slammed shut. The deadbolt clicked into place.

Garold's massive, scorching body pressed against my back. He grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look up at him.

His pitch-black eyes were full of violent, self-righteous arrogance. "Karlie is out there crying because of your brutal attitude. She has always admired you. You are going to walk out there right now and apologize to her."

I looked at the man I had loved for three years, and a sudden, violent wave of nausea hit my stomach.

"I just spent thirty straight hours saving three human lives, and you want me to apologize to a manipulative brat who doesn't even need a Band-Aid?"

"Don't force me to humiliate you in your own hospital, Felicity," Garold's voice dripped with cruel threat. "If you don't go apologize, I will pull Peck Group's ten-million-dollar medical sponsorship from this facility tomorrow morning."

I didn't cry. I didn't even feel angry anymore.

I looked at him with absolute, dead calm, a sharp smirk curving my lips.

"Pulling a ten-million-dollar sponsorship over a scratch that doesn't even need a Band-Aid?" I met his instantly dilating pupils, my voice dripping with pure mockery. "Go ahead. Do it. I'd love to see if tomorrow's Boston headline reads: 'Bruins Captain Pulls Medical Funding to Make His Mistress Smile, Leaves City's Critical Patients to Die'."

Garold's face turned ashen.

"Now," I said, pointing at the door, "get the hell out of my locker room."