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2,652,758	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-12-27 08:39	active	2119	Read next chapter👉	She gave her husband back to his first love and focused on developing her acting career. Then she took back everything that belonged to her and stepped onto a bigger stage. However, to her surprise, among the frenzied fans, there was her scumbag ex-husband! ===== "Saved! They've been saved." Firefighters emerged from the smoldering inferno, carrying Carrie Campbell to safety at the roadside. Her features, usually refined and expressive, were now smeared with soot; her sparkling eyes dimmed to a vacant gaze, hollow and lost. As reality seeped back into her consciousness, Carrie felt a rush of gratitude overpower her usual composure. Her voice, hoarse and weak, conveyed a profound "thank you" to her rescuers. Shaking, she fumbled for her phone, her fingertips quivering as they found the familiar number. "Hello, the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later..." The automated message played after a few rings, leaving her with a lump in her throat, her unvoiced frustrations and sorrow welling up inside her. Bang! With a deafening roar, the explosion abruptly silenced the cold, mechanical voice echoing through the line. Carrie's head snapped upwards, shock painted on her face as she witnessed the apartment she had just exited erupt into flames. Chunks of debris were hurled into the air by the force of the blast, scattering across the sky. Panic engulfed the crowd as survivors, freshly rescued, screamed in terror. They huddled together, seeking solace in each other's arms, their cries piercing the tumultuous scene. In stark contrast, Carrie lay alone on a stretcher, her isolation magnified amidst the chaos. "Kristopher..." Fighting the dread creeping up her spine, Carrie pressed her lips together tightly and dialed her husband's number again, her resolve unwavering. Yet, the call disconnected after a few short rings, leaving her with a haunting silence. Just then, a Twitter notification flickered on her phone screen. The gossip feed was alive with the latest gossip: #LiseNash #MysteriouBoyfriend. According to the tweet, a producer from a well-known variety show had invited the renowned star Lise Nash to a dinner, which had quickly soured when she declined to partake in a toast. This act of defiance had sparked a confrontation, only to be interrupted by Lise's domineering boyfriend. He stormed into the private dining room, dismissing the producer with a dismissive wave and escorting Lise away. The tweet described the scene vividly, painting a picture of a powerful man defending his beloved partner. Yet, perhaps due to his prominence, only the back of the man was visible in the accompanying photos, preserving his anonymity. Meanwhile, Lise, donning an oversized suit jacket, beamed a smile, reaching out to clasp his hand as they departed together. Carrie's eyes were glued to the screen, her stare intense and unblinking as she absorbed the image before her. There he was--Kristopher Norris! The suit jacket draped carelessly over Lise was a dead giveaway. Every piece of clothing Kristopher owned had been meticulously tailored by a master craftsman abroad, a detail Carrie knew all too well. Her grip on her phone tightened, her knuckles blanching to a stark white, as if her very soul were being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain sharp and acid-like in its intensity. In her most desperate moment, Kristopher had coldly disconnected their call, choosing instead to be at Lise's side. What was the worth of their two-year marriage? The tears she had been holding back now overwhelmed her, streaming down her face. Even as she tilted her head back in a futile attempt to stem the flow, the tears continued to escape. Lise had always been Kristopher's first love, a fact whispered and gossiped about among their circles. The Norris family had never approved of Lise, seeing her ordinary background as unfitting. Forced apart by family pressures, it had been Lise who ended things, but the past, it seemed, was not easily left behind. Kristopher had diligently pursued the leadership of the Norris family, harboring dreams of finally being with Lise. Yet, when he reached his goal, he discovered that Lise had already chosen another. In defiance of his family's expectations and perhaps out of bitterness, Kristopher turned to Carrie, a woman equally devoid of wealth or status, to become Mrs. Norris, thereby blocking any matchmaking attempts by his relatives. At that time, Carrie faced immense pressure from her father, Tristan Campbell, who was pushing her towards a marriage with a playboy, the son of a business associate, to cover her grandmother's steep medical expenses. Both Kristopher and Carrie, driven by their personal motives, consented to a marriage of convenience. Originally set for just one year, their contractual marriage stretched beyond its term, sustained by a shared understanding between them. Over time, Carrie began to believe in the authenticity of their union, never suspecting that it was merely an extension of her hopes. Just moments ago, a fire had nearly claimed Carrie's life. In that critical moment, she reached out to Kristopher, only to be twice rebuffed as he spent his time with Lise. This harsh reality shattered Carrie's illusions, revealing that her perceived transition from pretense to genuine relationship was nothing but a facade maintained by her own desires. Carrie wasn't even a temporary substitute in Kristopher's life but merely a pawn used to spite his family. After a poignant pause, tears welled up in Carrie's eyes, unstoppable and poignant. It might be time for her to release herself from the shackles of her own hopeful delusions--to stop deceiving herself. Chapter 2 Trending Topics The overwhelming number of injuries from the fire was staggering, straining the already frantic doctors and nurses as they tried to provide aid. Carrie had been merely grazed by a splintered clothes rack, which left a deep, jagged wound on her calf. In comparison to the chaos around her, her wounds seemed almost negligible. She managed to get basic care--a brisk cleaning and a quick wrap of bandages--at a local hospital before catching a cab back to her house. Bayview Villa, a grand property under Kristopher's name, was technically their matrimonial residence. Living alone had become the norm for Carrie, as Kristopher was hardly ever around. She had bid farewell to the housekeeper, discovering that her life could be quite adequately maintained with just takeout, deliveries, and the occasional visit from a part-time cleaner. Now, she found herself the sole occupant of the sprawling living room, sinking into the sofa, her gaze drifting across the empty space. The stark, monochrome decor did nothing to imbue warmth into the atmosphere. A chilling realization crept up on her: this vast, elegant space felt more like a colossal tomb, a silent grave for her lost years of youth and a love that had quietly slipped away. In this cold, echoing house, would anyone even notice if her breath ceased one day? Carrie exhaled a weary sigh, her frame heavy as she leaned against the cold wall for support, struggling up the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor. Each step was a battle, sending stabbing pains shooting through her from the surface of her skin down to her aching bones. The house, stark and hollow, echoed even the smallest sounds, magnifying her sense of isolation. It was today, amidst this profound silence, that Carrie truly grasped the all-encompassing nature of her loneliness--it was almost tangible, enveloping her senses with its texture and mournful whispers, tightening around her heart like a vice, producing a dull, relentless ache. Upon reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom, she collapsed onto the bed, the very embodiment of exhaustion, feeling it both physically and spiritually. Just as she surrendered to this weariness, the sharp ring of the phone pierced the silence. "You reached out to me earlier. What do you need?" Kristopher's voice cut through the line, cold and distant as ever. Carrie was caught off guard by his unexpected call. Words failed her as she parted her lips to respond, but before she could collect her thoughts, a soft, feminine voice floated through from the other end. "Kristopher, will you join me to..." A surge of emotions tightened Carrie's grip on the phone, her heart thumping louder with each second. Overwhelmed and unable to contain her rising panic, she demanded, "Who's there with you?" Kristopher gave no answer, merely stating in a flat, disinterested voice, "If there's something you need, let's catch up when I'm back. I have pressing engagements right now, so I must disconnect." He promptly ended the call, cutting off any chance for Carrie to reply. As the harsh beep of the disconnected line filled her ears, Carrie's lips twisted into a rueful grin. How utterly foolish she felt! Deep down, she knew his response all too well, yet she had clung to the hope of hearing his voice confirm it. With a sense of self-inflicted irony, Carrie activated her tablet and scrolled through the day's hot topics. One headline caught her eye: "A female star shielded from harassment at a dinner by her formidable partner." A wry smile twisted her lips. Carrie knew all too well what it was like to face harassment at those kinds of dinners. She vividly remembered her first major audition after her entering the showbiz; her agent had escorted her to a dinner with the influential director and producer of the drama series "Serene Sighs." As a novice in the dizzying world of showbiz, Carrie had felt incredibly vulnerable, uncertain of how to navigate the murky waters of such gatherings. The producer had eyed her shamelessly, sneering as he asked, "Is this the new talent you're introducing? She appears presentable, but I'm curious to see how she fares with a drink. Here's the deal, if you can gulp down this bottle in one go, I'll secure you an audition for the lead role." Carrie was inclined to decline, but under the relentless pressure from her agent, she found herself compelled to consume the entire bottle. As the evening wore on, she was hurriedly taken to the hospital suffering from a severe stomach ailment. Her agent, fretful about the prospect of the role slipping away to another, quickly settled the hospital charges and departed. At that time, Carrie found herself isolated in a hospital bed for several long days. Yet, even before Carrie could be released from the hospital, the media was abuzz with the announcement that Lise had secured the lead role in "Serene Sighs." Subsequently, her agent rebuked Carrie for her lack of ambition, complaining, "You are more appealing than Lise, so why can't you show more drive? She cozied up to Mr. Norris and hardly had to make an effort. She's surrounded by people eager to cater to her every need. I've heard that Mr. Norris personally orchestrated her landing the lead role in this production!" When the show premiered, Lise was catapulted into stardom, swiftly ascending to the elite echelons of the acting world. From that moment forward, Carrie let her acting aspirations wane and chose instead to devote herself entirely to supporting her husband, Kristopher. After all, no matter her efforts, she could never get the same career opportunities that Lise seemed to receive effortlessly with Kristopher's offhand remarks. At that time, Carrie had believed she was filling the role that was meant to be Lise's as Mrs. Norris, which meant she owed Lise. By giving up the career opportunities to Lise, Carrie thought they would settle their unspoken debt. However, Carrie hadn't foreseen that Lise would claim both the coveted career and Kristopher's affections. As Lise's professional and love life blossomed, Carrie came to the painful realization that she had been overly consumed with her romantic pursuits, at the expense of her career, and now, she found herself bereft of both love and professional fulfillment. With tears streaming down her face, Carrie viewed her past two years as tragically misguided. Given another opportunity, she resolved she wouldn't be so unguarded, letting her heart recklessly fall captive to Kristopher's charm. "Ms. Spencer, the new copyright contract is prepared. Please review it for any discrepancies." Her phone buzzed with the alert, snapping Carrie out of her reverie. She gazed at the PDF file attached in the message, her mind briefly overwhelmed. Under the pseudonym Katrina Spencer, Carrie had once made a name for herself as a budding screenwriter, selling numerous scripts in her early days. During her early career as Katrina, Carrie often sold her work for a pittance, compelled by her urgent need for immediate cash. Over the years, these scripts transformed into blockbuster films and hit series, catapulting Katrina's reputation to new heights. By this time, Carrie had married Kristopher and was no longer plagued by the financial woes that had once driven her to desperation--her grandmother's hefty medical bills were a thing of the past. With her financial crises resolved, Carrie's life had pivoted to domestic responsibilities, striving to be an exemplary wife to Kristopher. Amidst these changes, her pseudonym, Katrina Spencer, gradually receded into the background. However, her past as Katrina wasn't ready to be shelved just yet. Recently, an interested buyer had come forward, ready to pay a handsome sum for one of her old scripts. Carrie, however, was hesitant to sell. She raised several concerns about the contract presented to her, and to her astonishment, the buyer was genuine enough to revise it accordingly. Holding the revised contract in her hands, Carrie inhaled deeply, her resolve hardening. She seemed to have reached a crucial decision. Her fingers danced over her phone's keyboard with swift precision, typing out a firm command. "Create a divorce agreement following my terms and ensure it reaches Kristopher Norris at the Norris Group." Without pausing for a response, she placed her phone aside and limped toward the bathroom, each step echoing a blend of determination and newfound independence. Chapter 3 Exchange Of Conveniences Thirty minutes had passed, Carrie finally heaved herself up from the bathtub, her limbs feeling heavy and uncooperative. As she lifted her gaze, her own image in the mirror halted her movements--her skin appeared as smooth and impeccable as fine porcelain, glowing with an unblemished radiance. Her eyes, deep pools of allure, sparkled with an enchanting, soft warmth, inviting anyone who dared meet her gaze. Despite edging into her late twenties at twenty-five, she reveled in the fact that time had yet to etch its marks upon her flawless complexion. Surely, a woman with such a visage had no place for self-pity. Absorbed in her contemplation, Carrie carelessly extended her right leg onto the cold floor, forgetting it was the very limb she had injured. Wrapped excessively in cling film to shield it from moisture, the tight encasement had stifled her circulation, rendering her leg eerily numb. As her foot touched down, it betrayed her, slipping forward unexpectedly. "Ah!" Carrie gasped, her arms flailing in a frantic ballet, searching for a lifeline in the void. Just as she teetered on the brink of a painful rendezvous with the floor, the bathroom door burst open. Kristopher stood at the entrance, his suit immaculately tailored, creating a striking figure. As their eyes locked, he paused, visibly taken aback, then quickly closed the distance with brisk strides. Carrie's breath caught as Kristopher swept her up in a graceful bridal style, an unexpected tightness wrapping around her waist. Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Carrie realized with a jolt that she was completely bre. A flush of embarrassment washed over her as she instinctively clutched her hands over her chst. This was their first moment of such intimacy since their wedding, and the discomfort made her toes curl inward, her skin blushing a delicate shade of pink. Kristopher looked down at her with a mischievous grin. "Let's be honest, there's not much to see," he teased gently. Feeling both mortified and slightly irritated, Carrie snapped back, "Oh, Mr. Norris, after all you've seen, I suppose nothing can impress you anymore." She carried her C-cup curves with understated charm, a touch of sen*ality that outshone Lise's painfully flat, almost awkwardly rigid build. Yet Carrie knew well that without love, even the most perfect physique paled in comparison to the charm of one dearly cherished. Nonchalantly, Kristopher reached for a bathrobe hanging behind the door and draped it over her. His frown deepened at her comment. "What are you talking about, Carrie?" A thought seemed to strike him, and his expression grew even more impatient. "Tell me, did you send those divorce papers in the dead of night just to lure me back here--to catch you completely bre?" His tone was a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "I told you I was swamped with work. Was this dramatic display really necessary?" Carrie's temper flared at his accusatory tone, reigniting the tension between them. He was always so quick to lose patience with her. She wasn't the type to throw around words like divorce or breakups lightly. In fact, this was the first time she'd ever mentioned divorce in their two-year marriage, yet he seemed indifferent to her turmoil. He simply dismissed her concerns as if she were overreacting about trivial matters. Despite the throbbing pain in her leg, Carrie mustered her strength and said, "Put me down." Kristopher, however, paid no heed, his eyes scanning her leg swathed in bandages. His brow furrowed slightly. "What happened to your leg? Is this some elaborate ploy to lure me back?" At his words, a bitter laugh escaped Carrie. It seemed he viewed her as merely seeking attention, and in failing to capture it, she had likely concocted a story to draw him back, allowing her to dramatize her plight in his presence. With a blank face, she replied untruthfully, "It's a beauty treatment that shouldn't get wet." "Why did you suddenly decide to undergo such a treatment?" Kristopher inquired, his tone casual as he carried her outside, not pressing the issue further. His frame was large, and through his thin shirt, she could distinctly feel the warmth of his body and the defined shape of his chst muscles. The closeness created an uncomfortable tension for Carrie, who had resolved to end things once and for all. Her voice climbed involuntarily, sharper this time. "Oh, since when have you been concerned with such minor things, Mr. Norris?" For the first time, Kristopher witnessed her using biting sarcasm; it struck him as peculiarly amusing. With a calm demeanor, he responded, "You're my wife, it's only natural I'd be concerned about your well-being." "Really?" There was a somber note in Carrie's voice now. "It seems like you've never really regarded me as your wife. I'm scared that if I were to die, you wouldn't even know until much later." After all, at that very moment, Kristopher had been distracted, lost in moments with his first love, too consumed to lend an ear to her desperate pleas. Caught off guard by her accusation, Kristopher's eyes widened with surprise before he let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Carrie, what's brought on this sudden outburst of anger? Just because I was tied up this afternoon and missed your call? Perhaps I've been too indulgent with you lately, and it's made you a bit too presumptuous?" Carrie froze, startled. Was he accusing her of being too presumptuous? She realized their marriage had always been lopsided. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a transactional partner, a woman who had bartered her freedom for financial security. Their union was meant to be a mere exchange of conveniences, yet she had, quite foolishly, fallen deeply in love with him. In the tricky terrain of romance, the one who fell first invariably found themselves at a distinct disadvantage. Kristopher's dismissive reaction left Carrie reeling, her emotions dismissed as trifles, a tight knot of suffocation rising in her chest. "I said to put me down this instant!" Carrie exclaimed, jerking her head to the side, her voice laced with a sharp edge of impatience. Kristopher remained mute, effortlessly carrying her towards the bed before suddenly releasing his hold. Carrie felt a jolt as the support vanished, her heart skipping a beat as she instinctively grasped for him. Their bodies collided on the bed, her bathrobe teetering on the brink of decency, threatening to unravel with any minor shift. Propped on one elbow, Kristopher gazed down at her, his lips curled into a sly, teasing grin. "You wanted to be let go, didn't you? So why cling to me now?" His eyes, deep and sparkling like a midnight lake speckled with stars, captivated her. In those celestial depths, Carrie caught a glimpse of her own reflection. At times like this, she was misled into believing he harbored a deep affection. Sadly, his heart was a fortress reserved for Lise, and all Carrie had left were empty fantasies. "Boring!" she exclaimed, her voice devoid of any enthusiasm as she attempted to rise, her hand inadvertently brushing against something unexpected. "Don't move, or I can't promise what might happen next," he warned in a deep, gravelly voice. With a frown, Carrie internally cursed upon hearing the statement. It was an undeniable fact. Primal instincts steered the actions of men. Absence of affection didn't quell their basic dires. Yet, she dared not agitate Kristopher. Angling her face away, her body remained rigid, frozen in place. Carrie, feeling irked, shot back. "Didn't you say there's nothing here to see? What's with the reaction now, Mr. Norris? Are you really that easy to impress?" No sooner had her words flown than she grasped the potential repercussions of her sharp tongue. A wave of regret surged through Carrie, but instead of anger, Kristopher responded with a chuckle, "You are my wife, after all. Since that's something I can't alter, I might as well embrace it. Besides, it's been years since we became husband and wife--it would be a shame to neglect you completely." Chapter 4 Are You Out Of Your Mind? Kristopher leaned in close to Carrie. The fabric of his suit brushed lightly against Carrie's cheek, releasing a mix of scents: a familiar woody aroma intertwined with an unexpected zesty twist of lemon. It was unmistakably Jo Malone's Blue Agava and Cacao--Lise's signature scent. A surge of nausea overwhelmed Carrie at the realization. Heat crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks a bright scarlet as indignation took hold. Without thinking, her hand flew up and delivered a stinging slap across Kristopher's face. All her suppressed grievances from the day ignited in that swift motion. The impact of her slp had left a light, crimson mark on Kristopher's cheek, marking him with her outrage. His eyes, wide with disbelief, met hers. "Carrie, are you out of your mind?" Out of her mind? Yes, she was clearly insane to ever fall for him in the first place. Carrie fumed silently, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly, the sharp buzz of the phone on the table cut through the mounting tension, its vibration bringing a brief respite from their standoff. Kristopher cast a fleeting glance at the message, shut off the phone with a snap, and strode towards the door, his back rigid with tension. Her voice, firm and unwavering, chased after him. "We're getting a divorce! Make sure you sign those papers before you walk out that door!" Kristopher paused briefly and said sharply, "I have something to do now. When I return, do whatever pleases you." With that, he forcefully shut the door. Carrie's eyes followed his unwavering exit, feeling an oppressive weight compressing her chest once again. She disregarded the sharp sting in her leg and hobbled determinedly toward her tablet. Fingers trembling, she hastily navigated to Lise's Twitter page. Lise had just uploaded a new tweet. The photo showed her lying down with a fever patch adhered to her forehead, still enveloped in Kristopher's familiar jacket. The caption read, "Being sick makes me extra clingy. Wishing I had someone here. Stay cozy and take care, everyone!" The simultaneous timing of these two events made it almost impossible for Carrie not to suspect that Kristopher had dashed off to tend to Lise. Carrie's instincts loudly proclaimed that this was no accident; Lise had deliberately sought to tug at Kristopher's heartstrings. It appeared her tactics were effective. Not even Carrie's stark threat of divorce could overshadow Lise's theatrical display of vulnerability. Lise didn't have to lift a finger, and Carrie had already fallen, utterly broken and beyond redemption. Seething with fury, Carrie quaked like a leaf swept into a storm. She had arrived here with nothing but a suitcase and a heart full of dreams, and now she was leaving, dreams crumbled, utterly alone. It was time for her to pursue her acting career and give it her all... ...... ==== It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him... What happens next? 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2,653,950	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2653933}'	No	2024-12-27 10:45	active	2144	Đăng Ký SĐT Nhận Ngay ƯU ĐÃI ĐẾN 80% NGAY TẠI VIDEO NÀY	🔴[Trực tiếp] Ca Điều Trị Rụng Tóc, Hói Đầu Cho Việt Kiều Thụy Sĩ tại Phòng Khám Ths. Bs Vũ Phương Anh 🧧 SIÊU ƯU ĐÃI ĐẾN 80% + Tặng DV Làm Đẹp Xóa Nhăn cho KHÁCH HÀNG INBOX TRONG HÔM NAY. 🔥HẾT RỤNG TÓC - HÓI ĐẦU - KHÔNG TÁI RỤNG LẠI🔥 🔰KHÔNG HIỆU QUẢ HOÀN TIỀN – CAM KẾT BẰNG VĂN BẢN ✨Chỉ sau 1 liệu trình, bạn đã sở hữu mái tóc dày dặn, chắc khỏe từ sâu nang tóc ✨Không còn phải e ngại bởi mái tóc thưa hói nữa vì đã có công nghệ Nhân Bản Hóa Mầm Tóc MESOLUX - Siêu công nghệ Đặc trị Rụng Tóc, Hói Đầu Số 1 Hoa Kỳ : - Nhanh Chóng – Hiệu Quả – Không Xâm Lấn - Hiệu quả lâu dài - Cải thiện tình trạng rụng tóc ngay sau buổi đầu tiên - Ngăn chặn tình trạng rụng tóc quay trở lại 🏆Mô tả tình trạng tóc của bạn để nhận tư vấn miễn phí -----------------❖❖❖--------------- 🏢 HỆ THỐNG PHÒNG KHÁM DA LIỄU QUỐC TẾ MERCY 📍 CN1: 72 Ô Chợ Dừa, Quận Đống Đa, TP. Hà Nội 📍 CN2: 117 Điện Biên Phủ , Phường Đa Kao , Quận 1, TP. Hồ Chí Minh ☎️Hotline: 0868.924.234	MESSAGE_PAGE		Bác Sĩ Vũ Phương Anh - Phòng Khám Da Liễu Mercy	https://www.facebook.com/61550738412309/	2,326	1969-12-31 18:00	Send message		VIDEO			1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/471168460_900074641914044_7353853759604418219_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=00KO5iC5B4sQ7kNvgH1g7_Q&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AVq9ss8__lsYhyFnVg4O0q2&oh=00_AYDr5E93Rpt7DxlBfPTYYGKHyqKLWi0dDXMRQ9nebOZWZw&oe=67749192	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Bác Sĩ Vũ Phương Anh - Phòng Khám Da Liễu Mercy	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,653,008	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2024-12-27 09:39	active	2132		“You're Mine, Little wolf...” Her neck stings as the Alpha king marked her in front of the pack. Everyone thought she was merely a Rogue picked up by the Alpha King at the border of the pack, a lowly Omega. No one knew her true identity. Now, all the she-wolves were stunned. --- As a lone wolf, I was used to being alone, healing others yet always keeping my distance. But that day, he appeared before me, covered in blood, his gaze unwavering. "Do you know what you mean to me?"he asked. I carefully tended to his wounds, my heart heavy as I replied,"Yes, you can reject me." Before I could finish, this powerful Alpha pulled me into his arms, his voice gentle yet firm. "Who said I would reject you? You are my future Luna!” It’s been too long since I’ve let Annika out to run. With the number of classes that I’m taking and the heavy schedule I’m keeping at the university, there isn’t a lot of time to eat, much less let Annika run. But I have to let her out. She’s becoming more and more restless. ‘School is boring. Humans are boring. I want to do something fun,’ she grumbles in my head. ‘We’re going for a run, Annika. Calm down.’ ‘Next time, don’t wait so long.’ It’s been a couple of months since I took her out. She’s right, it’s been too long. But I know how the packs fight, and I haven’t wanted to risk getting in the middle of a battle, or worse, getting caught by Simon. ‘I’m too smart for him to catch us. Besides, he has no idea that we’re still so close to the pack.’ By ‘so close’ she means two hours, but it is too close. A wolf can run nearly as fast as a car, and when that wolf is on the hunt? Goddess forbid anyone gets in their way. In the past, when I’ve taken Annika out to run, I’ve taken her in the opposite direction of Simon’s pack. Well, technically, it’s not his pack, it’s his father’s pack. Alpha Solomon has been the Alpha of my previous pack for as long as I can remember. His son, Simon, is a nasty piece of work. He loves to fight and he loves to kill. The two of us couldn’t be any more different. I like to heal, and I like to save. For whatever reason, Simon set his sights on me. I don’t know why. I’m an orphan, I’m not ranked. My parents were warriors and while I can fight, I prefer to use my biggest strength, my brain. Simon much prefers to use his strength, his Alpha strength. He doesn’t have to work for it, being genetically predisposed to being larger and stronger than most wolves in the pack, so he doesn’t appreciate what he has, in my opinion. Me, on the other hand, I’ve had to work for everything I’ve achieved in this life, with the help of Alpha Solomon. My parents were killed in a pack war when I was young. Alpha Solomon took over as my guardian and made sure that I was cared for all my life. Maybe it’s because he never had a daughter, or maybe it’s because I’m more like him than his own son, but he’s always looked after me, even to the point of sending me away from the pack when he realized that his son had taken an interest in me. He knows Simon is no good, and he didn’t want me to suffer with his son’s infatuation. When we get to the spot where we like to run, I stop, sniffing the air, making sure there are no other wolves around here. ‘Annika?’ I ask, making sure she’s not smelling something I’m not. ‘No other wolves,’ she says, almost sadly. She misses the companionship of being in a pack. I look around once more, then make my way into the forest before stripping off my clothes and tucking them onto a tree branch, high enough that someone would have to look up to see them. I have a spare set of clothes in the car, just in case anyone steals these. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Rather than assume that someone was being malicious, I choose to believe that they needed the clothes more than I did. They’re only clothes after all. I let Annika pull the shift, feeling my bones snapping and reshaping after so long of not shifting. It’s more painful than it should be, but soon enough, Annika is shaking out her reddish-brown fur and taking off into the woods. Even though I’m in the background while Annika runs, I can feel how good it is to stretch her legs, to feel her muscles flexing in her body as she runs. It’s quiet tonight, thankfully, and Annika’s paws on the ground are nearly silent as she runs, giving both of us a chance to enjoy the sounds of the forest around us. I’m not sure how long she’s been running when we smell it, blood. She slows, lifting her nose in the air. ‘There was fighting nearby,’ she says in our shared mind space. ‘Do you hear anyone?’ I ask. ‘I’m not sure. I hear rustling, what sounds like a wolf in trouble. Do you hear it?’ she asks as she tilts her head from one side to the other. I do hear it. It does sound like a large animal who is struggling. ‘Annika…’ ‘I’ll be careful,’ she says, knowing that, if I can, I will want to help this animal, even if it is a werewolf. It may not be possible, they may not let me get close enough to help. But I’m going to school to become a doctor for a reason. So, I can help wolves in just this type of situation. Annika slowly and carefully makes her way to the sound of the struggling animal. As we get closer, I can tell that it is a wolf by the soft sounds that it’s making. I can’t figure out what it’s doing though. Maybe it’s caught in a snare of some sort and trying to figure out how to get out. Or maybe it’s just stuck in a hole that one of the packs dug to capture other pack members so they can interrogate them for information. ‘Please be careful, Annika. We can’t afford to get caught.’ “I’ll be careful, Yara.’ When we get close, she begins to belly crawl, slowly making her way closer. When the wind shifts, her whole body goes rigid, the scent of teakwood filling my nose and making my body tingle with unwanted desire. ‘Mate,’ she says softly. ‘WHAT?’ ‘That’s our mate, Yara. Our mate is injured.’ This is terrible. This isn’t just an injured animal, it’s our mate. I can’t leave him out here to die, but I also can’t have him trying to take me back to his pack. I have school, and I’m still in hiding from Simon. It’s takes me a moment too long to realize that the wolf, my mate, has stopped moving around. Annika barely breathes, waiting to see what he’ll do. He chuffs at us, letting us know that he knows we’re here. I’m not sure how I know that he’s not going to hurt us, but something in his chuff seems more like a request for help, than a threat of violence. Annika slowly and carefully makes her way through some bushes until we can see him. SH//IT! He’s caught in a bear trap. No wonder he’s still in wolf form. If he shifts, it will rip his leg off. ‘I can’t believe he’s not howling in pain,’ Annika says. She’s right. His leg, where it’s caught in the trap is shattered, no question. ‘You have to help him, Yara. He’s our mate. You have to,” Annika practically begs me. ‘I know. I will, if he’ll let me.’ As much as I hate the idea of being na//ked in front of this unknown man, even though he’s my mate, I have no choice if I’m going to talk to him and try to help him. I pull the shift, standing in front of the midnight black wolf who is watching me with his beautiful, intelligent green eyes. “Hey, big guy. I see you’re caught in a trap. I want to help you. I know you can’t shift, or you’ll rip that leg off and that looks really painful. Your bones are probably shattered but I want to help you, if you’ll let me,” I say softly, keeping my tone gentle. I slowly approach the wolf. Mate or no, this wolf must be in terrible pain and he’s going to be feeling vulnerable, unable to escape. I extend my hand, letting him sniff me and see that I mean no harm. “I’m a doctor. Well, I’m studying to be a doctor, to both humans and wolves. I don’t want to hurt you. Will you let me see if I can help you?” The wolf sniffs my hand, then nuzzles me. I gently run my hand through his fur, stopping when I come to stiff fur that smells like blood. I don’t want to know what else is in this wolf’s fur, but I can guess that guts and bones are stuck in there as well. He’s obviously been fighting and whether he got separated from his pack, or he was part of a group that intentionally separated out trying to cut off the other pack’s escape, he’s now out here alone without anyone to help him. Well, anyone except me. I look up, trying to see where the moonlight is so I can get a better look at the trap. “Okay, big guy, are you able to move to your right a bit? I need the moonlight to help me see how I can spring this trap and set you free.” He moves to his right, keeping an eye on me as I carefully look over the trap. “Nasty piece of work,” I mumble to myself. “Stupid id//iots doing this to each other.” I look back up at him. “Okay, I think I’ve figured it out. Before I spring this trap, you need to know that when I release this, it’s going to hurt, really bad. But then you’ll be free and I can take a look at how badly your leg is broken,” I tell him. I already know it’s shattered. I can see bone splinters sticking out of his skin from above the trap. I move my hands in position. I’m going to need Annika’s strength to help me open this trap. “Try not to bite me and if you can, try not to howl. I have no idea if there is anyone else nearby that might hear you, or try to come hurt you,” I tell him. He chuffs at me again, letting me know he understands. “On three, ready? One… two … three!” I say and push the release with all my strength, Annika pushing with hers as well. I feel the spring give and the trap snaps open. The wolf yelps but it’s quickly cut off as he moves away from the trap, keeping his injured leg off the ground. He turns, looking at me a moment before his bones begin to snap as he shifts back into his human form, his ridiculously gorgeous, tall, muscular form. Warren I can’t believe that Arric and I got caught in this bear trap. Fu//cking Brady! I know he’s the one who set this trap. He knew that he and his pack would retreat this way. I raced around, attempting to cut off their escape route, but I’d ended up caught in the trap. I know my pack will come back for me, but they’re in a battle and I’ve been waiting for them to find me for hours. When I wasn’t able to cut Brady off, they continued following his pack, hunting them down like the fu//cking dogs they are. I knew immediately that I couldn’t shift. While I could use my hands to spring the trap, it was too risky. I wasn’t willing to lose my leg and therefore my rank as Alpha. While the pain is significant, Arric and I are strong Alphas, and I know it's only a matter of time before the pack finds me and gets me out of here. We’d been struggling with a way to get the da//mn trap off when we’d smelled her. I’ve been looking for my mate for over ten years and now, here, in the middle of the forest, in the middle of an area covered in blood from a recent battle, I find her. Her cinnamon and nutmeg scent instantly calms Arric. Her wolf is a beautiful reddish-brown color and she’s obviously a skittish little thing. Through all of her conversation with Arric, she never once gave us her name. So, as soon as she releases the trap, I step back and begin to shift so I can talk to her. The shift hurts like a fu//cking bi//tch, my bones trying to reshape but unable to in my leg because they’re in pieces. I watch her eyes go wide and she scoots back, farther away from me. “Easy there. You just got me out of a trap. I may be a vicious Alpha when I’m hunting my pack’s attackers, but I’m not the kind of man who kills someone who just helped me,” I say. Because she didn’t give me her name, I’m resistant to giving her mine until I know what pack she’s from. “You said you’re a doctor?” “I’m studying to be one,” she says, watching me carefully. “For humans and wolves?” I ask her. It’s unusual and I’m in desperate need of a good doctor in my pack. My doctor needs to retire. I need someone young, someone intelligent, someone like my little mate here, to take over my pack hospital. “What pack are you from?” I ask, not sure I care. I’m at war with so many packs that the odds of her being from one of them are highly likely. Of course, she’s out here on her own, not fighting with a pack, which is also unusual. “I’m not from a pack. I’m a lone wolf. Did you want me to look at your leg?” I notice that she changes the subject away from her. Interesting. Or maybe not, lone wolves are alone for a reason. It makes me wonder what happened to make my mate a lone wolf. “Yes. I would appreciate your medical assessment,” I say, wanting her closer to me. I know her touch will help with the pain. She moves closer and her intoxicating scent fills my nose as I take in her beautiful body. She had looked shy but determined when she’d shifted. Her lean body isn’t as muscular as the wolves in my pack, which makes me think she hasn’t been part of the pack wars for a while. However, the softness of her only adds to the allure. My finger twitch with my desire to touch her. “What’s a lone wolf doing out here all by herself?” I ask. “Letting my wolf out. It’s not easy when you go to a human university,” she says, not looking up at me. I, on the other hand, can’t look away from her. She’s beautiful. The reddish-brown fur of her wolf is now long reddish-brown hair on the woman. It falls over her shoulder as she looks at my leg and I watch as she distractedly flicks it back over her shoulder and out of her way, as if this is a common occurrence in her daily life. “You know there are pack wars going on around here,” I say. She may not be mine yet, but I want her safe. “There are pack wars going on everywhere. If I tried to find someplace where war isn’t happening, I’d have to run in the human areas and risk hunters shooting Annika. You’re going to need surgery on this leg. You have multiple fractures, several being compound fractures,” she says, once again diverting the conversation from herself. I already knew I was going to need surgery. I could see Arric’s bones sticking out of his leg when we were in the trap. “Annika? Your wolf’s name means merciful? How appropriate for a doctor,” I say, still studying her. Her fingers on my leg are gentle. She seems to inherently know where to touch so that it only causes minor discomfort. “Gracious or merciful, yes. And Annika is a wonderful wolf,” she says proudly, still not looking up at me. I’m about to tell her that Arric agrees when I hear my Beta’s howl. My mate’s head snaps up and I smell the scent of her fear as her heart rate spikes. However, she doesn’t run. She looks like she’s about to take a protective stance in front of me. A perfect Luna, pushing her own fear aside to help someone in need. I smile. She’s perfect for me. “Relax, it’s my pack coming back for me,” I tell her. “Oh, well then, that’s good, you need to get someplace safe. Hopefully, they won’t attack me for helping you.” “I’ll protect you,” I say, smiling at her discomfort. My warriors come rushing up, surrounding us as my Beta, Charlie, shifts and snarls at my mate. “Who are you?” I snarl at him, startling both of them. “She’s the one who got me out of the bear trap I was in. Stand down!” I command. I won’t allow anyone to disrespect my mate. He looks at her, then turns back to me frowning before crouching to look at my leg. “How bad is it?” “Bad.” “Okay, let’s get you back to the pack,” he says, getting a couple of warriors to help me up. I wrap my arms around their shoulders and lift my bad leg, gritting my teeth against the pain. “Ready, Alpha?” Charlie asks. “Yeah, let’s go.” Charlie shifts, taking point as guard, and the warriors holding me start to move fast. “Wait!” I say, and everyone stops. “Bring the doctor." "The doctor?" one of my warriors asks. "The girl! Bring the girl," I bark, turning to look at her. I can see that she was ready to slink away. I watch her turn and look behind her as if judging whether or not she can make a run for it. “Don’t even think about it,” I say to her. Charlie’s wolf, Gregor, moves swiftly to her side, nudging her forward with his head. I don’t like how close he is to my na/ked mate and Arric growls softly. Her eyes flash up to mine. “I should go,” she says. “Like you said, there are a lot of pack wars going on around here. I probably should get home.” “Home?” I ask. I know I sound arrogant. The woman is a lone wolf going to school. Where exactly is home for her? I’m not letting her go back to wherever she wants to go. I’ll never see her again. I know from the little I’ve learned about her that she’ll never let her wolf run in these woods again. And, by the time I healed and went to find her at the university, I’m sure she’d have transferred. She’s too skittish to stay where she might get caught. “School,” she says, clarifying her intended destination. “Hmm, well, as you just reiterated, it’s not safe out here, especially for a lone wolf. What kind of Alpha would I be if I left you to fend for yourself? No, I think you should come with us,” I say and my voice holds no room for argument. She presses her lips together and stands, nodding, and reluctantly following behind me. Warren Charlie orders two wolves to flank my mate, keeping her safe, but also making sure she follows my order. ‘Alpha?’ Charlie asks in the mind link. ‘She’s my mate.’ ‘Oh sh//it.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Does she know? She doesn’t act like she recognizes you as her mate.’ ‘I’m not sure. She’s a lone wolf, but she’s going to school for human and veterinary medicine.’ He turns and looks at her. “Wow. A smart one.’ ‘Apparently.’ ‘What did she say about your leg?’ ‘That I need surgery.’ ‘Well, no offense but I could have told you that.’ ‘Let’s see what she says when we get to the pack. And find her a shirt. I don’t like her walking around our warriors with no clothes on.’ He takes off, rushing toward our pack lands. When he returns, his wolf carries a shirt to her in his mouth. I watch while she looks up at me. “We’re about to enter my pack. You’re an unmarked, unknown, young female. I thought you might like a shirt to put on to cover yourself,” I say. If she says no, I’ll insist, but I’m hoping she’ll choose to put it on without me having to demand it. Thankfully she does, looking almost relieved. Good. She’s not the kind of woman who flaunts her beautiful body for all to see. When we get back, I’m taken straight to the pack hospital, asking Charlie about other injuries the warriors sustained and what happened to Brady’s pack. He gives me the list of injuries as we walk in, shifting and continuing to talk to me out loud as Dr. Stevens rushes up. “Alpha, let’s get you into a room so we can look at your leg. You’ll need x-rays,” he says. “Yes, I will,” I say. “The girl comes too.” “The girl has a name,” she mumbles. I stop and turn to look at her, her eyes going wide. She obviously hasn’t been around a lot of Alphas or it’s been a long time. She keeps mumbling to herself as if I can’t hear her. It’s kind of cute. “If you’ll give me your name, I’ll be happy to use it,” I say to her. “Yara.” “Yara. I’m Alpha Warren. Come with me,” I say, turning back and letting the warriors help me into the x-ray room. “Who are you? Get out!” Dr. Stevens barks at her as we walk into the room. “She’s with me,” I say, ignoring his blustery attitude that a young woman is in the room with us. She looks at him and I’m pleased when she instinctively moves closer to me. I get settled onto the table and Dr. Stevens sets up the x-ray machine. While he does, I watch Yara. She has a very expressive face. Now that I can see her in the light, I can tell that she’s a pretty little thing. I’m sure I’d think so even if she weren’t my mate, but based on the glances my warriors keep giving her, she’s a natural beauty. Yep, good thing she’s got that shirt on, or I’d have to rip their eyes from their sockets. Because I’m watching her, I see her frown, her head tilting to the side as she watches Dr. Stevens. I crook my finger at her beckoning her forward as Dr. Stevens leaves the room. “What was that look?” I ask, realizing that my mate’s eyes are a grey-green color, almost sage. My eyes are green too, but not as dark as hers. “What look?” I just raise an eyebrow at her. Perhaps the pain in my leg is making me less amenable to small talk. I’m trying to ignore it, but it’s not easy and Arric can’t heal me until the bones are set properly. So, I’m not as patient as I might normally be in this situation. She turns and looks behind her to see if the doctor is there, then leans in, her scent filling my nose. “Why isn’t he taking side views? He only took a view from the top,” she whispers as Dr. Stevens walks back in. He glares at her but puts the x-ray up on the lightbox. “Well, Alpha, your leg isn’t salvageable. I’m afraid we’re going to have to remove it,” he says dispassionately, as if he didn’t just tell me that my entire world was about to collapse around me. I feel my stomach clench and my heart skips a beat. At the same time, I hear Yara su//ck in air. “Dr. Yara, what do you think?” I ask her. If she has any suggestions for me to save this leg, I’m doing it. I don’t care how much pain it’ll cause me, or how long it will take me to recover. I’ve been an Alpha for twelve years. Before that, I was an Alpha in training. Without my rank, without a pack to lead and protect, I have no idea who I am. She looks at me, then at Dr. Stevens who is glaring at her again. “Doctor?” he asks condescendingly. He’s of the old school mindset where women are nurses, meant to be at the beck and call of a male doctor. It’s another reason he has to go. My nurses are constantly complaining and threatening to leave. “Studying to be, but I would suggest getting x-rays of the sides of the leg before determining if the leg has to be removed,” she says, more confidently than I was expecting. She may not be comfortable around me, or even in the pack, but here, in this hospital room, her confidence is clear. “You heard her, Dr. Stevens. Side x-rays,” I say, seeing her glance at me appreciatively for supporting her. In truth, I’m thankful she’s giving me an option, any option to save my leg. “Young lady, what are your credentials?” he demands. “HER credentials are not in what’s in question, doctor. I gave you the order. Side x-rays! NOW!” I bark. Yara jumps as I yell, but really, this asshole is going to tell me my leg needs to be removed and think that I’m not going to fight it? He continues to glare at Yara while he does the x-rays, and when he comes back, he puts them on the lightbox and turns to her with a sneer on his face. I’m about ready to come off this table and rip that look off his smug face. “What do you think now, doctor?” he asks, as if questioning the truth in her title. Yara walks to the lightbox, looking closely at first one, then the other x-ray. “Do you have the original?” she asks, turning to Dr. Stevens. He huffs, but hands it to her and she sets it up on the lightbox beside the others. She stands back, her head tilting from one side to the other. “Yara?” I ask, unable to stop the flutter of hope in my ch//est. “We can salvage the leg,” she says, turning to me and making me sigh in relief. “You’ve got to be joking!” Dr. Stevens says. “His leg is shattered!” “Yes, it is. And it will take a lot of time and patience. But Alpha Warren has time, and I have patience,” she says, looking at me. “Do it,” I tell her, putting my future into this woman’s hands and hoping I won’t regret it. Chapter 4: No Sedation Yara I’m not sure if Alpha Warren brought me here because he recognized me as his mate and he didn’t have the strength to reject me in the woods, or if he knew that his pack doctor was well past his retirement years. Either way, I’m here and since I am, I’ll help this Alpha. This is the reason I chose medicine. He doesn't have to lose his leg. It will take a lot of effort on my part, but I'm excited to finally get to work on a werewolf, an Alpha no less. “I’m assuming you want to do this now, Alpha?” I ask him. “Yes, the sooner the better.” “Okay.” I give him the list of items that I’ll need to get his bones put back together properly. “Oh, and we’ll need to sedate you,” I say, looking around the room to see how they have their hospital rooms set up. “Is this where…” “No,” Alpha Warren says. I turn to look at him. “No?” “No sedation.” “Okay then, a nerve block, I’ll just need…” “No,” he says again. “Alpha, please, I’m going to have to wash the area, scrub it clean, I’m going to cut your leg open, pin your skin and muscle back so that I can get to the bones and then slowly put them back where they belong. The pain will be excruciating. You need the nerve block.” “No,” he says again, holding my gaze. I finally look away, mumbling about stupid, stubborn Alphas. When I turn back, he’s watching me with a raised eyebrow as if he heard me. I wasn’t that loud, was I? Crap, I’ve been hanging around humans who can’t hear anything for too long. How much can he hear of my mumbling. The irritable Dr. Stevens comes in, throwing the things I asked for on the table. I jump when I hear a warning growl, looking up to see Alpha Warren glaring at him. “Will there be anything else, doctor?” Dr. Stevens asks. He somehow makes my title, which is the same as his, sound like a dirty word. “No, thank you, doctor. I’ll take it from here.” I go to the sink and begin scrubbing my hands. I’m nervous for a lot of reasons. First, I’m in an unknown pack with an Alpha who is my mate. I have no idea what to expect from him, or really why I’m here. And almost worse than that, he wants me to operate on him while he’s awake! What the he//ll kind of crazy Alpha is he? “You’re thinking so hard that there’s steam coming out of your ears, Yara. What are so worried about?” he asks me. I turn and look at him over my shoulder. How does he even know I’m worried? Why is he paying so much attention to me? Is this the mate bond? I’ve only had exposure to two Alphas in my life, Alpha Solomon and Alpha Simon. Alpha Solomon is a good Alpha, but he was never this in tune with what I was doing or thinking. And Simon…a shiver of revulsion rolls through me. He was in tune for a whole other reason. The man gave me the creeps. When I finish scrubbing my hands, I turn back to Alpha Warren. I see he’s waiting for a response to his question. “This is going to be very painful. Can I at least give you a local anesthetic? “No, I need to be alert so I can protect my pack,” he says. “You can’t exactly protect your pack with only one leg, Alpha," I snap, my nerves making me bold. “Warren. Call me Warren, and you said you could save my leg.” “I can, IF you are under sedation and I’m not worried about you flinching or yanking your leg away while I’m operating.” “I have a very high tolerance to pain.” That doesn’t surprise me. He wasn’t even whimpering when Annika and I found him. He also has multiple, very faint scars all over his body. The man has been fighting in the pack wars for a long time. He must have a very strong wolf that is able to heal him, over and over. “How strong is your wolf right now?” I ask, getting his leg prepped to wash. “I am very strong, little one,” a deep voice says, and my eyes snap up as Annika begins purring in my head. Warren's wolf is forward, answering for himself. Warren smiles, once again looking as if he knows the effect his wolf is having on mine. Can he hear Annika purring? I shake my head, trying to clear it. I need to focus my attention and NOT on Warren’s incredible teakwood scent. “If I hold the bones in place, one at a time, how long will it take for you to set them?” I ask. “Not long, little one,” he says but it’s practically a purr. “I am a very strong, powerful Alpha wolf.” The way he says it isn’t bragging, but more like preening. My brain flashes an image of a peacock strutting around flaunting his feathers for his chosen mate. “Right,” I say, feeling my body responding to the deep tenor of his voice. It feels like his voice is caressing the nerves in my body, making them all light up with a need I’m unused to feeling, especially when I’m about to do surgery. I look up into the intense, jade green eyes of Alpha Warren. “Are you ready, Alpha?” “Warren,” he corrects. I nod. “Are you ready, Warren?” “Yes, Yara.” I grit my teeth, hating that I know this is going to hurt him, but if he won’t let me at least numb his leg, I can’t help it. I begin washing the blood off his leg, laying a wet cloth over the bloody area, careful that I don’t tug on the bones that are still jutting out. His body is covered with caked blood, guts, and bits of bone, just like I thought it would be. Under the teakwood scent, he smells like war and death. It’s good practice for me, learning how to ignore the smell of battle while I work. I don’t get this kind of training at the university. “Talk to me,” he says through gritted teeth. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask, not looking up as I begin to scrub the blood from his leg. “You know what you are to me?” he asks, although it’s more of a statement than a question. My stomach feels like it’s twisting into knots. "Yes," I say without looking up. "After you have healed, you can reject me. If you do it before, it could impact your healing." I don’t know why the thought of this man rejecting me feels so painful. I don’t even know him. I have no intention of becoming his mate and returning to the packs, at least not until I’m done with school anyway. And this pack is much too close to Simon for my comfort. "Who says I'm going to reject you?" he asks, sounding offended. Now I do look up at him. “But I’m a lone wolf.” “What you are, is my future Luna.” “You don’t even know me,” I say going back to my work. “I know that you’re intelligent, you’re compassionate, you’re brave, and I know that you’re lonely,” he says. The intelligent and compassionate parts I get. That could easily be discerned from me being a doctor and helping him, those two make sense. The brave part I’m not sure about, but the lonely part… “Why do you say I’m lonely?” I ask him, wiping off the blood and turning to get the scalpel. I lift it up, showing him that I’m about to cut into his leg. He nods and continues. “The closest university with a medical school is about an hour north of here. Between here and there, there are many areas where a lone wolf could run, if she wanted to. But instead,” he stops, grunting as I carefully slice into his leg. “Instead, you chose to come to an area that is full of wolves.” He’s partially right. Annika misses being in a pack, she misses the companionship of being with other wolves. Me, I’d be fine living alone the rest of my life, but my wolf likes the smell of the forest and it makes her feel more settled to smell the scent of other wolves. Warren hisses and I glance up at him, watching him take deep breaths to control his pain. “How do you do that?” I ask. “Do what?” “Manage this level of pain?” “Mind over matter. Physical pain will break you mentally if you let it. That’s why people get tor/tured for information. If you can break the body, you can usually break the mind. My mind is stronger than my body and my body is very strong.” I glance at the scars on his legs again. They're a testament to the accuracy of his words. “You’ve been fighting for a long time?” I ask, cutting and pulling the muscles away from where his bones have snapped into pieces. “Since I became an Alpha, nearly twelve years ago.” “Twelve years?” I exclaim, standing up and looking at him. He’s older than I thought. That eyebrow shoots up again. It’s an arrogant look, but on Warren, its oh so sexy. “I took over the pack when I was eighteen, I’m now thirty, that’s twelve years, little wolf.” “Annika’s not that little,” I say, returning my attention to his leg. “She is compared to Arric.” “Well, Arric is an Alpha wolf. Only another Alpha would be larger than an Alpha wolf,” I say, as I carefully pluck out the first bone. I look at it, checking to see where it goes and then I press it against the bone it snapped off of. “Okay, Arric, let’s see what you’ve got,” I say, carefully holding the bone in place so Arric can begin to heal the fracture. I watch as the bone begins to connect and seal in front of my eyes. “Cool!” I say, forgetting where I am and who I’m with. I’ve been working with humans for so long that I forgot how quickly wolves can heal, especially Alpha wolves. “Is it that exciting?” Warren asks me drolly. I shrug. I know not everyone finds medicine and surgery thrilling, but I do. “It is for me.” “Then it must be my lucky day,” he says, just as there is a knock at the door. I look at the door, then at Alpha Warren, wondering who could possibly be knocking. “I told you I would protect you,” he says smiling. His smile is so beautiful that it nearly takes my breath away. “Come in, Charlie,” he says, not taking his eyes off of me. “Alpha…what the fu//ck are you doing in here?” he asks angrily, striding quickly to the table and looking at Alpha Warren’s leg, filleted and open on the table. Chapter 5: Surprising News Warren As much pain as I’m in, I’m enjoying watching and talking to my mate. She’s unlike any woman or she-wolf I’ve ever met. Besides the crazy notion that I would reject her, she’s funny. I love how she’s constantly murmuring to herself, talking to herself as if no one else can hear her. I can hear every word and without being marked, it’s a good second option to knowing what’s going on inside that interesting mind of hers. Her face is nearly as expressive as her murmurs. She hasn’t learned or doesn’t care about hiding her facial expressions. Once again, I find it refreshing. She isn’t trying to be coy or impress me because I’m an Alpha. On the contrary, it’s almost as if she’s trying to get away from me BECAUSE I’m an Alpha. It's not going to happen. I’ve searched for this little doctor too long to let her go now. “To answer your question, Charlie, Dr. Yara here is piecing me back together, slowly and painstakingly, which is preferable to Dr. Stevens plan which was to remove my leg,” I say and my Beta’s eyes flash up to mine. He understands the ramifications of what I’ve said. And as my Beta, he’s in line to take over the pack. Thankfully, I trust my Beta and I know that he has no desire to be an Alpha. It’s not an easy job and he makes it easier by being an incredible Beta. “Are you at least numb?” he asks, his lip curling as he looks at what Yara is doing. “Utterly ridiculous Alpha,” Yara murmurs, obviously listening in to our conversation and giving her own opinions of me that she thinks we can’t hear. Charlie looks at me frowning. ‘She knows we can hear her, right?’ he asks in the mind link. ‘Apparently not,’ I say, smiling. “No, no numbing,” I tell him out loud. ‘I might agree with her,’ he says, scowling at me. “Give me the run down on Brady. Did you kill him?” I ask, watching my mate. “Arric, you ready?” she asks softly, all her concentration on her work. “Yes, mate,” Arric answers and Charlie turns to look at her again, leaning over to watch as Arric heals my bone. “Oh sh//it! That’s fu//cking awesome!” he says. “I know right,” my mate says, smiling a huge fu//cking smile at my Beta. Without thinking, I snarl jealously. Both of them jolt and while it fu//cking hurts that she tugs on my newly healed bone, it doesn’t break again. “Sorry, Alpha,” Charlie says, showing his neck. She looks at Charlie submitting and then at me and her lips press tightly together. She doesn’t approve. I lean forward so she’s sure that I’m talking to her. “You’re MY mate.” “What I am is your DOCTOR. Temporarily. And if you don’t want me walking out of here and letting Dr. Stevens take your leg, I’d suggest that you not pull that sh//it while my hands are in your shattered leg again,” she snaps. I sit back, having to fight hard not to smile. Da//mn, I like her spunk. I turn my head to my Beta, not looking away from Yara. “So what happened with Brady?” “When you couldn’t cut him off, he made it back to his pack. Since we know it’s booby-trapped, we didn’t pass his borders.” “Booby-trapped how? Arric, again,” Yara says, still not looking up at us. I tilt my head. Does she think that she’s part of this conversation? I don’t care if she is, I just know that most doctors would pretend to ignore the conversation going on around them. Not my mate, though. She’s not pretending anything. And somehow, she’s multi-tasking, listening to us and still working on my leg, letting Arric know when he needs to start healing a bone. “Spring-loaded wooden stakes buried in the ground,” Charlie answers her, careful now in the way he interacts with her so he doesn't piss me off. “Stupid pack wars, killing for no good reason,” she mumbles to herself. Charlie’s eyes snap back to mine and I smile. “Anywho,” he says, refocusing on me. “We did get one disturbing piece of information.” “What’s that?” I ask. “Alpha Solomon is dead. Simon is Alpha now.” If I hadn’t been so focused on her, I’d have missed it. Her very steady hand slipped. I lift my hand, telling Charlie to stop. I frown as her hand begins to shake. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I need a break,” she says, stepping away and not waiting for me to release her. She pulls off her gloves and rushes from the room. “Follow her. Don’t approach, but make sure she doesn’t leave,” I tell Charlie. “Yes, Alpha.” When they’re gone, I sit back, thinking, which is hard because my leg is throbbing and laying open on the table in front of me. The door opens and Dr. Stevens walks in. “I knew she wouldn’t make it Alpha. I mean…” he stops staring at my leg. “Just look at this mess! I’ll get ready to remove the leg.” “The fu//ck you will. She’s taking a break and for your information, she’s getting my bones back together. So, get the fu//ck out of my surgery room, doctor,” I snarl. “Alpha, I must insist…” “What you must do is listen to your fu//cking Alpha. GET OUT!” I shout. The door opens and Yara rushes back in, seeing Dr. Stevens. “What the he//ll is wrong with you? You don’t leave a patient in the middle of surgery!” “CHARLIE!” I bark. “Dr. Stevens,” he says much more calmly than I am, holding the door open and gesturing for Dr. Stevens to leave. Dr. Stevens huffs, but walks out. “My apologies, Alpha. Dr. Stevens is right. I shouldn’t leave in the middle of surgery.” She’s not looking at me and I look at Charlie who shrugs. “What did you call me?” I ask, my irritation with Dr. Stevens tainting my tone. Her head snaps up to mine. “Alpha?” I crook my finger at her and she walks over to me. “And what did I tell you to call me?” I ask her, forcing my tone to be gentler as I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to hold my gaze. “Warren,” she says, her dark green eyes nearly making me forget that I’m in a surgical room. “Warren,” I confirm, reluctantly releasing her. “Continue, Dr. Yara.” She nods and returns to my leg. I watch her take a deep breath before picking out several more bones until she finds the one she wants. “Arric?” “Ready, my mate,” he says, beginning to purr which helps her to steady her hand and her nerves. When she does, I gesture for Charlie to return. “Any other serious injuries that Dr. Stevens is threatening to do something ridiculously over the top with?” I ask. “Yours is the worst, Alpha. There are a couple with deep wounds that he’s washing out with alcohol." Yara su//cks in air again and stands up straight looking at us. “Not the right course of treatment?” I ask her, raising my eyebrow. I'm starting to trust her medical knowledge much more than my current doctor. “Why wouldn’t he just stitch them up?” she asks. “He said it would take too long and there are too many injured,” Charlie says, watching her closely. I like my Beta, a lot. But until my mate is wearing my mark, I don’t like all the interest he’s showing in her. Yara, however, turns to me. “Don’t you have omegas in your packhouse who sew your clothing?” “Yes,” I say, frowning at her. “It’s basically the same. Yes, skin feels a bit different, it’s a bit tougher than fabrics, but they could do it and not cause the pain that pouring alcohol into their wounds is causing,” she says. I look at Charlie. “Call the omegas, get them over here. Tell Dr. Stevens that he can go.” “But who is going to assess the warriors?” he asks me. “Have the nurses give a diagnosis and recommended treatment, then bring it in here to ask Dr. Yara’s opinion.” “My opinion?” she asks me, obviously surprised. “Yes, Yara. Your opinion. I’m beginning to think that you are the perfect replacement for Dr. Stevens.”	LEARN_MORE	https://stardust-publish.com/kiss/booksAdvPage/?id	Werewolf Fiction Club	https://www.facebook.com/100086297174750/	3,501	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	stardust-publish.com	VIDEO		https://stardust-publish.com/kiss/booksAdvPage/?id=675ad3cc7311e2b1d40728cd&mode=1&mediaType=fb&px=4530786357146800&lang=en&campaign_id={{campaign.id}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/471532022_569776489184405_5709955073719419871_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=EM7kPlgVKcEQ7kNvgFNGNEY&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AqnFbalhd7hDzIEIV25rgFN&oh=00_AYCE9L00J45JuPSFpyvH_FFdItCiJzT1hJVU0_-5rcLhDA&oe=67749971	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Werewolf Fiction Club	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,652,748	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2652744}'	Yes	2024-12-27 08:39	active	2119	Enter the draw today for your chance to WIN!✨	😍Family Portrait GIVEAWAY ALERT❤️ Families of Montana! Enter into our Major Giveaway of 2025! 🌟The first prize is our Major prize pack worth worth $5,400! It includes: ✅ Dinner for family at restaurant TEN (valued at $400) ✅ All-inclusive Family Portrait Experience & a 30" Fine Art Wall Portrait (worth $5,000). ✨ There are also Runner-ups being drawn every week for an 11x14" Fine Art Print and a Family Portrait Session worth $1,350!✨ It takes 10 seconds to enter! TAP the image below! ❤️	APPLY_NOW	http://fb.me/	Clark Marten Photography	https://www.facebook.com/ClarkMartenPhotography/	10,484	1969-12-31 18:00	Apply now	fb.me	IMAGE		http://fb.me/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469822604_1233874434388395_1890675909981490097_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=YvsoXWXKbIYQ7kNvgHq7iNg&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AoZ8sXoyXorlvNCUWWSZ4i3&oh=00_AYBmQv225pWTIR8PopZzpYiYjF6g_STtlbxY1di53875Lw&oe=6774916D	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Clark Marten Photography	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,654,007	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2024-12-27 11:00	active	2147	Read next chapter👉	She gave her husband back to his first love and focused on developing her acting career. Then she took back everything that belonged to her and stepped onto a bigger stage. However, to her surprise, among the frenzied fans, there was her scumbag ex-husband! ===== "Saved! They've been saved." Firefighters emerged from the smoldering inferno, carrying Carrie Campbell to safety at the roadside. Her features, usually refined and expressive, were now smeared with soot; her sparkling eyes dimmed to a vacant gaze, hollow and lost. As reality seeped back into her consciousness, Carrie felt a rush of gratitude overpower her usual composure. Her voice, hoarse and weak, conveyed a profound "thank you" to her rescuers. Shaking, she fumbled for her phone, her fingertips quivering as they found the familiar number. "Hello, the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later..." The automated message played after a few rings, leaving her with a lump in her throat, her unvoiced frustrations and sorrow welling up inside her. Bang! With a deafening roar, the explosion abruptly silenced the cold, mechanical voice echoing through the line. Carrie's head snapped upwards, shock painted on her face as she witnessed the apartment she had just exited erupt into flames. Chunks of debris were hurled into the air by the force of the blast, scattering across the sky. Panic engulfed the crowd as survivors, freshly rescued, screamed in terror. They huddled together, seeking solace in each other's arms, their cries piercing the tumultuous scene. In stark contrast, Carrie lay alone on a stretcher, her isolation magnified amidst the chaos. "Kristopher..." Fighting the dread creeping up her spine, Carrie pressed her lips together tightly and dialed her husband's number again, her resolve unwavering. Yet, the call disconnected after a few short rings, leaving her with a haunting silence. Just then, a Twitter notification flickered on her phone screen. The gossip feed was alive with the latest gossip: #LiseNash #MysteriouBoyfriend. According to the tweet, a producer from a well-known variety show had invited the renowned star Lise Nash to a dinner, which had quickly soured when she declined to partake in a toast. This act of defiance had sparked a confrontation, only to be interrupted by Lise's domineering boyfriend. He stormed into the private dining room, dismissing the producer with a dismissive wave and escorting Lise away. The tweet described the scene vividly, painting a picture of a powerful man defending his beloved partner. Yet, perhaps due to his prominence, only the back of the man was visible in the accompanying photos, preserving his anonymity. Meanwhile, Lise, donning an oversized suit jacket, beamed a smile, reaching out to clasp his hand as they departed together. Carrie's eyes were glued to the screen, her stare intense and unblinking as she absorbed the image before her. There he was--Kristopher Norris! The suit jacket draped carelessly over Lise was a dead giveaway. Every piece of clothing Kristopher owned had been meticulously tailored by a master craftsman abroad, a detail Carrie knew all too well. Her grip on her phone tightened, her knuckles blanching to a stark white, as if her very soul were being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain sharp and acid-like in its intensity. In her most desperate moment, Kristopher had coldly disconnected their call, choosing instead to be at Lise's side. What was the worth of their two-year marriage? The tears she had been holding back now overwhelmed her, streaming down her face. Even as she tilted her head back in a futile attempt to stem the flow, the tears continued to escape. Lise had always been Kristopher's first love, a fact whispered and gossiped about among their circles. The Norris family had never approved of Lise, seeing her ordinary background as unfitting. Forced apart by family pressures, it had been Lise who ended things, but the past, it seemed, was not easily left behind. Kristopher had diligently pursued the leadership of the Norris family, harboring dreams of finally being with Lise. Yet, when he reached his goal, he discovered that Lise had already chosen another. In defiance of his family's expectations and perhaps out of bitterness, Kristopher turned to Carrie, a woman equally devoid of wealth or status, to become Mrs. Norris, thereby blocking any matchmaking attempts by his relatives. At that time, Carrie faced immense pressure from her father, Tristan Campbell, who was pushing her towards a marriage with a playboy, the son of a business associate, to cover her grandmother's steep medical expenses. Both Kristopher and Carrie, driven by their personal motives, consented to a marriage of convenience. Originally set for just one year, their contractual marriage stretched beyond its term, sustained by a shared understanding between them. Over time, Carrie began to believe in the authenticity of their union, never suspecting that it was merely an extension of her hopes. Just moments ago, a fire had nearly claimed Carrie's life. In that critical moment, she reached out to Kristopher, only to be twice rebuffed as he spent his time with Lise. This harsh reality shattered Carrie's illusions, revealing that her perceived transition from pretense to genuine relationship was nothing but a facade maintained by her own desires. Carrie wasn't even a temporary substitute in Kristopher's life but merely a pawn used to spite his family. After a poignant pause, tears welled up in Carrie's eyes, unstoppable and poignant. It might be time for her to release herself from the shackles of her own hopeful delusions--to stop deceiving herself. Chapter 2 Trending Topics The overwhelming number of injuries from the fire was staggering, straining the already frantic doctors and nurses as they tried to provide aid. Carrie had been merely grazed by a splintered clothes rack, which left a deep, jagged wound on her calf. In comparison to the chaos around her, her wounds seemed almost negligible. She managed to get basic care--a brisk cleaning and a quick wrap of bandages--at a local hospital before catching a cab back to her house. Bayview Villa, a grand property under Kristopher's name, was technically their matrimonial residence. Living alone had become the norm for Carrie, as Kristopher was hardly ever around. She had bid farewell to the housekeeper, discovering that her life could be quite adequately maintained with just takeout, deliveries, and the occasional visit from a part-time cleaner. Now, she found herself the sole occupant of the sprawling living room, sinking into the sofa, her gaze drifting across the empty space. The stark, monochrome decor did nothing to imbue warmth into the atmosphere. A chilling realization crept up on her: this vast, elegant space felt more like a colossal tomb, a silent grave for her lost years of youth and a love that had quietly slipped away. In this cold, echoing house, would anyone even notice if her breath ceased one day? Carrie exhaled a weary sigh, her frame heavy as she leaned against the cold wall for support, struggling up the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor. Each step was a battle, sending stabbing pains shooting through her from the surface of her skin down to her aching bones. The house, stark and hollow, echoed even the smallest sounds, magnifying her sense of isolation. It was today, amidst this profound silence, that Carrie truly grasped the all-encompassing nature of her loneliness--it was almost tangible, enveloping her senses with its texture and mournful whispers, tightening around her heart like a vice, producing a dull, relentless ache. Upon reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom, she collapsed onto the bed, the very embodiment of exhaustion, feeling it both physically and spiritually. Just as she surrendered to this weariness, the sharp ring of the phone pierced the silence. "You reached out to me earlier. What do you need?" Kristopher's voice cut through the line, cold and distant as ever. Carrie was caught off guard by his unexpected call. Words failed her as she parted her lips to respond, but before she could collect her thoughts, a soft, feminine voice floated through from the other end. "Kristopher, will you join me to..." A surge of emotions tightened Carrie's grip on the phone, her heart thumping louder with each second. Overwhelmed and unable to contain her rising panic, she demanded, "Who's there with you?" Kristopher gave no answer, merely stating in a flat, disinterested voice, "If there's something you need, let's catch up when I'm back. I have pressing engagements right now, so I must disconnect." He promptly ended the call, cutting off any chance for Carrie to reply. As the harsh beep of the disconnected line filled her ears, Carrie's lips twisted into a rueful grin. How utterly foolish she felt! Deep down, she knew his response all too well, yet she had clung to the hope of hearing his voice confirm it. With a sense of self-inflicted irony, Carrie activated her tablet and scrolled through the day's hot topics. One headline caught her eye: "A female star shielded from harassment at a dinner by her formidable partner." A wry smile twisted her lips. Carrie knew all too well what it was like to face harassment at those kinds of dinners. She vividly remembered her first major audition after her entering the showbiz; her agent had escorted her to a dinner with the influential director and producer of the drama series "Serene Sighs." As a novice in the dizzying world of showbiz, Carrie had felt incredibly vulnerable, uncertain of how to navigate the murky waters of such gatherings. The producer had eyed her shamelessly, sneering as he asked, "Is this the new talent you're introducing? She appears presentable, but I'm curious to see how she fares with a drink. Here's the deal, if you can gulp down this bottle in one go, I'll secure you an audition for the lead role." Carrie was inclined to decline, but under the relentless pressure from her agent, she found herself compelled to consume the entire bottle. As the evening wore on, she was hurriedly taken to the hospital suffering from a severe stomach ailment. Her agent, fretful about the prospect of the role slipping away to another, quickly settled the hospital charges and departed. At that time, Carrie found herself isolated in a hospital bed for several long days. Yet, even before Carrie could be released from the hospital, the media was abuzz with the announcement that Lise had secured the lead role in "Serene Sighs." Subsequently, her agent rebuked Carrie for her lack of ambition, complaining, "You are more appealing than Lise, so why can't you show more drive? She cozied up to Mr. Norris and hardly had to make an effort. She's surrounded by people eager to cater to her every need. I've heard that Mr. Norris personally orchestrated her landing the lead role in this production!" When the show premiered, Lise was catapulted into stardom, swiftly ascending to the elite echelons of the acting world. From that moment forward, Carrie let her acting aspirations wane and chose instead to devote herself entirely to supporting her husband, Kristopher. After all, no matter her efforts, she could never get the same career opportunities that Lise seemed to receive effortlessly with Kristopher's offhand remarks. At that time, Carrie had believed she was filling the role that was meant to be Lise's as Mrs. Norris, which meant she owed Lise. By giving up the career opportunities to Lise, Carrie thought they would settle their unspoken debt. However, Carrie hadn't foreseen that Lise would claim both the coveted career and Kristopher's affections. As Lise's professional and love life blossomed, Carrie came to the painful realization that she had been overly consumed with her romantic pursuits, at the expense of her career, and now, she found herself bereft of both love and professional fulfillment. With tears streaming down her face, Carrie viewed her past two years as tragically misguided. Given another opportunity, she resolved she wouldn't be so unguarded, letting her heart recklessly fall captive to Kristopher's charm. "Ms. Spencer, the new copyright contract is prepared. Please review it for any discrepancies." Her phone buzzed with the alert, snapping Carrie out of her reverie. She gazed at the PDF file attached in the message, her mind briefly overwhelmed. Under the pseudonym Katrina Spencer, Carrie had once made a name for herself as a budding screenwriter, selling numerous scripts in her early days. During her early career as Katrina, Carrie often sold her work for a pittance, compelled by her urgent need for immediate cash. Over the years, these scripts transformed into blockbuster films and hit series, catapulting Katrina's reputation to new heights. By this time, Carrie had married Kristopher and was no longer plagued by the financial woes that had once driven her to desperation--her grandmother's hefty medical bills were a thing of the past. With her financial crises resolved, Carrie's life had pivoted to domestic responsibilities, striving to be an exemplary wife to Kristopher. Amidst these changes, her pseudonym, Katrina Spencer, gradually receded into the background. However, her past as Katrina wasn't ready to be shelved just yet. Recently, an interested buyer had come forward, ready to pay a handsome sum for one of her old scripts. Carrie, however, was hesitant to sell. She raised several concerns about the contract presented to her, and to her astonishment, the buyer was genuine enough to revise it accordingly. Holding the revised contract in her hands, Carrie inhaled deeply, her resolve hardening. She seemed to have reached a crucial decision. Her fingers danced over her phone's keyboard with swift precision, typing out a firm command. "Create a divorce agreement following my terms and ensure it reaches Kristopher Norris at the Norris Group." Without pausing for a response, she placed her phone aside and limped toward the bathroom, each step echoing a blend of determination and newfound independence. Chapter 3 Exchange Of Conveniences Thirty minutes had passed, Carrie finally heaved herself up from the bathtub, her limbs feeling heavy and uncooperative. As she lifted her gaze, her own image in the mirror halted her movements--her skin appeared as smooth and impeccable as fine porcelain, glowing with an unblemished radiance. Her eyes, deep pools of allure, sparkled with an enchanting, soft warmth, inviting anyone who dared meet her gaze. Despite edging into her late twenties at twenty-five, she reveled in the fact that time had yet to etch its marks upon her flawless complexion. Surely, a woman with such a visage had no place for self-pity. Absorbed in her contemplation, Carrie carelessly extended her right leg onto the cold floor, forgetting it was the very limb she had injured. Wrapped excessively in cling film to shield it from moisture, the tight encasement had stifled her circulation, rendering her leg eerily numb. As her foot touched down, it betrayed her, slipping forward unexpectedly. "Ah!" Carrie gasped, her arms flailing in a frantic ballet, searching for a lifeline in the void. Just as she teetered on the brink of a painful rendezvous with the floor, the bathroom door burst open. Kristopher stood at the entrance, his suit immaculately tailored, creating a striking figure. As their eyes locked, he paused, visibly taken aback, then quickly closed the distance with brisk strides. Carrie's breath caught as Kristopher swept her up in a graceful bridal style, an unexpected tightness wrapping around her waist. Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Carrie realized with a jolt that she was completely bre. A flush of embarrassment washed over her as she instinctively clutched her hands over her chst. This was their first moment of such intimacy since their wedding, and the discomfort made her toes curl inward, her skin blushing a delicate shade of pink. Kristopher looked down at her with a mischievous grin. "Let's be honest, there's not much to see," he teased gently. Feeling both mortified and slightly irritated, Carrie snapped back, "Oh, Mr. Norris, after all you've seen, I suppose nothing can impress you anymore." She carried her C-cup curves with understated charm, a touch of sen*ality that outshone Lise's painfully flat, almost awkwardly rigid build. Yet Carrie knew well that without love, even the most perfect physique paled in comparison to the charm of one dearly cherished. Nonchalantly, Kristopher reached for a bathrobe hanging behind the door and draped it over her. His frown deepened at her comment. "What are you talking about, Carrie?" A thought seemed to strike him, and his expression grew even more impatient. "Tell me, did you send those divorce papers in the dead of night just to lure me back here--to catch you completely bre?" His tone was a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "I told you I was swamped with work. Was this dramatic display really necessary?" Carrie's temper flared at his accusatory tone, reigniting the tension between them. He was always so quick to lose patience with her. She wasn't the type to throw around words like divorce or breakups lightly. In fact, this was the first time she'd ever mentioned divorce in their two-year marriage, yet he seemed indifferent to her turmoil. He simply dismissed her concerns as if she were overreacting about trivial matters. Despite the throbbing pain in her leg, Carrie mustered her strength and said, "Put me down." Kristopher, however, paid no heed, his eyes scanning her leg swathed in bandages. His brow furrowed slightly. "What happened to your leg? Is this some elaborate ploy to lure me back?" At his words, a bitter laugh escaped Carrie. It seemed he viewed her as merely seeking attention, and in failing to capture it, she had likely concocted a story to draw him back, allowing her to dramatize her plight in his presence. With a blank face, she replied untruthfully, "It's a beauty treatment that shouldn't get wet." "Why did you suddenly decide to undergo such a treatment?" Kristopher inquired, his tone casual as he carried her outside, not pressing the issue further. His frame was large, and through his thin shirt, she could distinctly feel the warmth of his body and the defined shape of his chst muscles. The closeness created an uncomfortable tension for Carrie, who had resolved to end things once and for all. Her voice climbed involuntarily, sharper this time. "Oh, since when have you been concerned with such minor things, Mr. Norris?" For the first time, Kristopher witnessed her using biting sarcasm; it struck him as peculiarly amusing. With a calm demeanor, he responded, "You're my wife, it's only natural I'd be concerned about your well-being." "Really?" There was a somber note in Carrie's voice now. "It seems like you've never really regarded me as your wife. I'm scared that if I were to die, you wouldn't even know until much later." After all, at that very moment, Kristopher had been distracted, lost in moments with his first love, too consumed to lend an ear to her desperate pleas. Caught off guard by her accusation, Kristopher's eyes widened with surprise before he let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Carrie, what's brought on this sudden outburst of anger? Just because I was tied up this afternoon and missed your call? Perhaps I've been too indulgent with you lately, and it's made you a bit too presumptuous?" Carrie froze, startled. Was he accusing her of being too presumptuous? She realized their marriage had always been lopsided. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a transactional partner, a woman who had bartered her freedom for financial security. Their union was meant to be a mere exchange of conveniences, yet she had, quite foolishly, fallen deeply in love with him. In the tricky terrain of romance, the one who fell first invariably found themselves at a distinct disadvantage. Kristopher's dismissive reaction left Carrie reeling, her emotions dismissed as trifles, a tight knot of suffocation rising in her chest. "I said to put me down this instant!" Carrie exclaimed, jerking her head to the side, her voice laced with a sharp edge of impatience. Kristopher remained mute, effortlessly carrying her towards the bed before suddenly releasing his hold. Carrie felt a jolt as the support vanished, her heart skipping a beat as she instinctively grasped for him. Their bodies collided on the bed, her bathrobe teetering on the brink of decency, threatening to unravel with any minor shift. Propped on one elbow, Kristopher gazed down at her, his lips curled into a sly, teasing grin. "You wanted to be let go, didn't you? So why cling to me now?" His eyes, deep and sparkling like a midnight lake speckled with stars, captivated her. In those celestial depths, Carrie caught a glimpse of her own reflection. At times like this, she was misled into believing he harbored a deep affection. Sadly, his heart was a fortress reserved for Lise, and all Carrie had left were empty fantasies. "Boring!" she exclaimed, her voice devoid of any enthusiasm as she attempted to rise, her hand inadvertently brushing against something unexpected. "Don't move, or I can't promise what might happen next," he warned in a deep, gravelly voice. With a frown, Carrie internally cursed upon hearing the statement. It was an undeniable fact. Primal instincts steered the actions of men. Absence of affection didn't quell their basic dires. Yet, she dared not agitate Kristopher. Angling her face away, her body remained rigid, frozen in place. Carrie, feeling irked, shot back. "Didn't you say there's nothing here to see? What's with the reaction now, Mr. Norris? Are you really that easy to impress?" No sooner had her words flown than she grasped the potential repercussions of her sharp tongue. A wave of regret surged through Carrie, but instead of anger, Kristopher responded with a chuckle, "You are my wife, after all. Since that's something I can't alter, I might as well embrace it. Besides, it's been years since we became husband and wife--it would be a shame to neglect you completely." Chapter 4 Are You Out Of Your Mind? Kristopher leaned in close to Carrie. The fabric of his suit brushed lightly against Carrie's cheek, releasing a mix of scents: a familiar woody aroma intertwined with an unexpected zesty twist of lemon. It was unmistakably Jo Malone's Blue Agava and Cacao--Lise's signature scent. A surge of nausea overwhelmed Carrie at the realization. Heat crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks a bright scarlet as indignation took hold. Without thinking, her hand flew up and delivered a stinging slap across Kristopher's face. All her suppressed grievances from the day ignited in that swift motion. The impact of her slp had left a light, crimson mark on Kristopher's cheek, marking him with her outrage. His eyes, wide with disbelief, met hers. "Carrie, are you out of your mind?" Out of her mind? Yes, she was clearly insane to ever fall for him in the first place. Carrie fumed silently, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly, the sharp buzz of the phone on the table cut through the mounting tension, its vibration bringing a brief respite from their standoff. Kristopher cast a fleeting glance at the message, shut off the phone with a snap, and strode towards the door, his back rigid with tension. Her voice, firm and unwavering, chased after him. "We're getting a divorce! Make sure you sign those papers before you walk out that door!" Kristopher paused briefly and said sharply, "I have something to do now. When I return, do whatever pleases you." With that, he forcefully shut the door. Carrie's eyes followed his unwavering exit, feeling an oppressive weight compressing her chest once again. She disregarded the sharp sting in her leg and hobbled determinedly toward her tablet. Fingers trembling, she hastily navigated to Lise's Twitter page. Lise had just uploaded a new tweet. The photo showed her lying down with a fever patch adhered to her forehead, still enveloped in Kristopher's familiar jacket. The caption read, "Being sick makes me extra clingy. Wishing I had someone here. Stay cozy and take care, everyone!" The simultaneous timing of these two events made it almost impossible for Carrie not to suspect that Kristopher had dashed off to tend to Lise. Carrie's instincts loudly proclaimed that this was no accident; Lise had deliberately sought to tug at Kristopher's heartstrings. It appeared her tactics were effective. Not even Carrie's stark threat of divorce could overshadow Lise's theatrical display of vulnerability. Lise didn't have to lift a finger, and Carrie had already fallen, utterly broken and beyond redemption. Seething with fury, Carrie quaked like a leaf swept into a storm. She had arrived here with nothing but a suitcase and a heart full of dreams, and now she was leaving, dreams crumbled, utterly alone. It was time for her to pursue her acting career and give it her all... ...... ==== It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-e	Hello reading-L	https://www.facebook.com/61567786377967/	106	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-enp26_6-1226-core3.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=124213&accid=1608252460124701&rawadid=120212413086850139	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/471705895_480285994689574_6106275937643748052_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=G2lGSQwBK0YQ7kNvgHZGcbZ&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AcxrGU8Yqls637c-k5aUrIw&oh=00_AYBRrYb8uAsmM1kSCQ4noLIS0VgxxrD4TbSPtXh2ITFJMA&oe=6774BA29	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Hello reading-L	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,653,484	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2653578}'	Yes	2024-12-27 10:27	active	2141	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	February in Sureton City was wet. It had been drizzling throughout the day, leaving the roads damp. The cold wind brought with it the rain, making Freya Somner shiver. She held an umbrella and curled up while crouching before the entrance to the city hall. It was already 5:00 pm. Would that person come? She was worried as she thought about her grandfather, Neil Somner, who lay sick in bed. Had he finished his IV drip? Would he need to use the restroom? Had Thomas Talbot already gone home? She looked up and scanned the empty streets. The city hall would close for the day at 5:30 pm. She would just grit her teeth and wait for another half an hour, then. If that person didn't show up, she could blame him and tell Neil and Thomas that he'd stood her up. It wasn't because she didn't want to marry him or anything. Neil was sick. As a traditional medicine practitioner, he knew his time was running out. Freya was his only concern—she would be alone in the world once he passed. He'd contacted Thomas, whom he'd saved many years ago. Thomas had promised Neil that he would do everything in his power to help if Neil ever needed it. All Neil had to do was make the call. Years had passed since then, but the call had miraculously gone through. Thomas had shown up the very next day. Neil had explained the situation to him and asked Thomas to help care for Freya in the future. Thomas had generously said, "It's only natural for me to care for her. How about this—I have many grandsons, so I'll have one of them marry Fae as a way of repaying you. That way, she won't be alone." Neil had agreed, leaving Freya with no room to object. She didn't want to marry—she could take care of herself and was fine alone. She was currently staying at the dormitory her university had prepared for graduate students. She even had 2,300 a month as financial aid. Eating at the hospital's and university's cafeterias was cheap—she only needed to spend 15 a day on food. However, Neil had insisted. He felt that it was hard to predict the future, and he would only be able to rest in peace once he saw that marriage certificate. That way, he'd be able to face Freya's parents in the afterlife with no regrets. Freya's parents had died after falling off a cliff. They'd been searching for a herbal catalyst to save Thomas back in the day. It had rained that day, just as it had on this day. Freya had seen her parents' corpses entwined with one another, their hands still clutching the herbal catalyst. After her parents passed away, she and Neil depended on each other for survival. It was on that day that she'd suddenly grown up. She'd studied hard and skipped grades, sitting for her SATs at 17 years old. Then, she'd gotten into Sureton University's medical faculty, joining the seven-year integrated bachelor's and master's program. She only had two years to go before she could graduate and officially start working. Things were starting to look good. Then, Neil had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. It was taking his life away. The screeching of brakes pulled Freya out of her reverie. She looked up at the offroad vehicle before her. It was painted a military green and covered in mud, and the tires were soiled. It was clear the car had ventured through the mountains. The door opened, blocking the man's face from her view. Still, she'd gotten a glimpse of his chiseled features. His bushy brows, tall nose, and deep-set eyes formed a handsome, honest face. With the door open, all Freya could see was the army pants enveloping his long legs and the leather boots he wore. It was a cold day, yet he only wore an olive green T-shirt. He stepped away from the car. Before Freya could take a closer look at his face, he approached her, stopping before her so his boots were level with her eyes. "Are you Freya Somner?" he asked, his voice deep and somewhat daunting. "Yeah." "Let's get married, then." He turned and headed into the city hall. Chapter 2 Freya wanted to stand up, but she'd been crouching for so long that her legs had gone numb. "What's wrong?" the man asked. "My legs have gone numb." She was lifted off her feet as soon as the words were out of her mouth. An unfamiliar scent enveloped her, and she felt her face burn. The man placed her on the seat before the counter. "Get your identification." She kept her head lowered as she obediently placed the things on the counter. "Daniel Talbot," the staff said. "That's me," the man said. "Freya Somner." "Here," Freya said. She looked up at the staff. The staff looked at the identification she held, then at Freya. The latter's eyes were spirited but also carried a hint of naivety. Freya was only 22, but Daniel was already 28. He'd even carried her in. That made the staff suspect whether Freya had been forced into this. She asked, "Are you here to get married at your own will?" "Yes, I am," Freya said. "Alright, then. Fill up these forms, please." At 5:30 pm, Freya and Daniel walked out of the city hall. Freya looked down at her marriage certificate. She'd gone from being single to married once the staff stamped the certificate. She'd married a man she'd met for the first time without even dating him. The whole thing had only taken a matter of minutes. Daniel stopped and looked at her. "Where are you headed now?" She had kept her head down and hadn't been paying attention to the distance between them. She walked right into his chest. Pain spread through her, starting from her nose. Tears welled in Freya's eyes. How could his chest be as hard as a wall? She clamped a hand over her nose and looked at him tearily. "I'm going back to the hospital." He was so tall that her eyes were only level with his chest. It was incredibly muscular and looked just like the diagrams she'd seen in her medical texts. "Get in the car," he said. Freya struggled to open the door. She tugged it with all her strength, but it didn't budge. Daniel saw her from the driver's seat. He waved at her, gesturing for her to back up. Then, he opened the door from inside. "Which hospital are you going to?" he asked. "The county tumor hospital, the one at Percat Street. Thanks." Freya obediently settled in her seat. "Your seatbelt," he said. She put it on, and he started the car. She noticed that his hands and arms were tanned, with protruding veins. He oozed strength and power. Suddenly, Freya's stomach rumbled. The sound was magnified in the silent car. She instinctively held her stomach, her face turning beet red. What was wrong with her? Why did she keep embarrassing herself? Was there something about her that made her incompatible with Daniel? Her stomach continued to rumble for a while. Finally, the car stopped. Freya thought they'd arrived at the hospital and moved to open the door. Then, she looked out and said, "We're not at the hospital." Daniel had already gotten out of the car, though. He headed to a fruit store without looking back at her. Soon, he returned with a bag full of fruits. "I don't know what your grandfather likes, so I bought a little of everything." "He can't eat anything. Doctor's orders." Daniel looked at her, perhaps because she sounded too calm. Only then did Freya notice how deep-set his eyes were. There was a hint of dominance in them. "You have them, then." He placed the bag on her lap. "Have some to tide the hunger. I'm in a rush." Freya wondered whether he was showing his concern for her. A wave of warmth surged in her as she peeled a banana. It was sweet. … The nurse had just removed Neil's IV drip when Freya and Daniel arrived at the ward. Thomas took the marriage certificates from Daniel and Freya and held them before Neil. He said happily, "Look at this, Neil. They're official marriage certificates with the stamps and all. They're genuine!" Neil smiled and nodded weakly. "That's great. I won't have anything to worry about anymore." "Come closer so Neil can see you, Dan," Thomas said. Daniel stepped forward. "Hi, Grandpa." Neil's smile widened. "Hi…" He held Daniel's hand and said, "I'll leave Freya in your hands from now on. She's a softie but is stubborn on the inside. I hope you'll be more tolerant of her and take the time to explain your thoughts to her if you two ever get into an argument." Tears streamed down Freya's face when she heard this. Daniel said, "I will, Grandpa." "Don't worry, Neil. We won't mistreat Freya. Daniel has property and a car—I'll have him show Freya around his place right now. She can move in when she's free," Thomas said. Freya forgot about crying and stared at Thomas in shock when she heard that. Didn't she and Daniel only have to get married? Why did they even have to live together? "Go on, then. It's still light out, so you can see what the place is like," Neil said. Daniel and Freya headed to his place under Thomas' urging. Chapter 3 Daniel's apartment was in Sureton City's central commercial area. It was an expensive area with good infrastructure—the medical and education systems were well-established. The residential area was right next to Sureton City's largest park. Freya looked at the minimalist, almost stark apartment. The marble coffee table was covered in a layer of dust. "This is your home?" "Yeah." Daniel also saw the dust. "I don't usually stay here." That didn't make sense at all. Why would anyone not live in their own home? Freya couldn't understand it. "There's a card here that you can use to pay for the utilities." He opened a drawer in the TV cabinet to show her. "If anything needs fixing, you can speak to the management office. "I'll have someone clean up the place later. There are two rooms, so you can pick whichever one you want. Feel free to use the study as well…" Freya observed the place. It was well renovated but showed no signs of being lived in. There weren't even any plates or utensils around. "What am I to you?" she suddenly asked. "My wife." "But I feel like your mistress," she said boldly. She didn't know whether Daniel had a girlfriend or anything—perhaps he'd only married her due to Thomas' pressure. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made her wait a whole afternoon for him, only arriving right before the city hall closed for the day. "What are you getting at?" Daniel asked. "I'm fine with getting a divorce if you already have a partner—our grandfathers have seen the marriage certificates, anyway. I don't want to inadvertently end up as a homewrecker." She respected the elderly but wouldn't do anything immoral just to comply with Neil's and Thomas' wishes. Daniel understood now. "I'm single. I usually stay at the military camp in the mountains." Freya recalled his offroad vehicle and the mud on it. That, coupled with his outfit, made her realize just who he was. "I'm sorry for misunderstanding you." "It's fine. I'll take you back to the hospital now—you can move in here whenever it's convenient for you." "What about you?" she blurted. Then, she disdained herself for asking. What did his matters have to do with her? "I need to head back after this. There's an urgent mission I need to handle." That was the last thing Daniel said to her. … Shortly after Daniel left, Neil's condition took a turn for the worse, and a new semester started. Freya bustled back and forth between the university and the hospital daily. On days when Neil felt better, he could even hold Freya's hand and reminisce with her. Neither of them mentioned that rainy night, though. He kept telling her that life was long and that she had to live well independently. However, he also told her she couldn't expect to do everything herself. She had to give in occasionally. Daniel looked like a good man, and they had to communicate with each other. They had to understand each other… Neil said many things. Freya wanted to object to everything and tell him that none of that mattered. She wanted him to know that she only wanted to spend her life with him in a small town called Floriver Town. She wanted to read medical texts and pick herbs with him. However, as a doctor, she was rational enough to know there was no chance of them ever returning to that life. The reports and data she saw every day were enough to tell her that Neil's condition was deteriorating. She cried almost daily throughout that month but hid it well. Neil never noticed. One day, white clouds floated in the blue sky. Freya drew the curtains, allowing the sunlight to stream into the room. Neil was in good spirits. "The weather is so nice today, Fae. Maybe you should take me off my oxygen tube now." He sounded calm, but Freya faltered while clipping his nails. She acted like she hadn't heard him and moved on to the next finger. "I can't take it anymore, Fae. I'm on drug every day, but it still hurts so bad. I'm begging you, okay?" His plea made Freya's nose prickle. Tears rolled down her face and landed on the floor, fading within seconds. Neil was a proud and strong man who'd never begged anyone in his life. Now… It looked like she really had to let him go. She slowly shut her eyes, sounding choked up as she said, "Okay. I'll get a doctor after I'm done clipping your nails." "The weather is so nice today that I feel so much more relaxed," Neil said. He lifted a hand with difficulty to caress her head one last time. It reminded her of how he'd praised her whenever she could memorize the things she'd read in the medical texts. After Freya signed the necessary documents, the doctor removed Neil's oxygen tube. She stood by his bedside and held his hand until his body became devoid of warmth. Thomas helped her with Neil's funeral, after which he urged her to move into Daniel's apartment. Chapter 4 Two years passed in the blink of an eye. "There's no time to eat, Dr. Somner. We're being dispatched for a house call." Freya was in a hospital's emergency room. When she heard the nurse, Jade Winton, call her, she put a folder over her unfinished instant mac and cheese and left the doctor's lounge. "Where's Dr. Wood?" she asked while wearing a mask. She hurried to catch up with Jade. "He's accompanying Lena for a prenatal check. I've called him, and he's on his way." Jade grabbed a first-aid kit and an extra bag of gauze and bandages. She handed them to Freya. "What's the situation? Why do we need so many bandages and gauze?" "A luxury jewelry store was robbed. The store's staff called the police, but the robbers discovered them and took ten staff hostage. We're being dispatched to provide medical assistance," Jade said. She told Freya everything she knew, then added, "Don't be rash later. Leave everything to Dr. Wood." "Got it. Thanks, Jade." Freya's mentor, Jason Wood, arrived at the same time as Freya and Jade. He was a tall, skinny man whose hairline was receding. He'd come from a prenatal check with his wife, Lena Johnson, and had already changed into his uniform. It made him look particularly spirited. "What's the situation?" he asked as he got into the car. "A jewelry store's been robbed. The robbers are armed," Jade said. Silence descended upon the car. They didn't know what they were facing but had to go at it regardless. Medicine knew no borders, and all lives were equal in worth. They had to save lives as long as they were at risk. When Freya and the others arrived, the police had already secured the scene. A crowd consisting of spectators and staff from various media outlets gathered behind the police line, surrounding the place and making it hard for anyone to get through. Police cars and vehicles belonging to a SWAT team were parked outside the jewelry store. There were also three buses with the windows tinted black. Freya followed Jason out of the car. A man who looked like an administrator hurried over to them, looking anxious. "The robbers need a doctor in there to save their comrade. Which one of you two will go in?" Freya looked at the jewelry store. It had three floors and was a corner lot with an expansive view. A mall was behind it, which meant it probably had more than one exit. "I'll go," Jason said, dragging Freya out of her reverie. She gave him a disagreeable look. "No way. I'll go, Dr. Wood. You have parents and children to care for, and Lena's conceived with your second child. You can't go in there." "You can't, either. You're inexperienced." Jason's attitude was firm. "The situation is complicated. I'm the only one who can head in there." Freya didn't argue with him. She turned to the administrator and volunteered. "I'll go, sir. I've passed the medical board exam and can practice independently. I don't have any dependents or relatives to care for." He looked at her. She was young and so nervous that she clenched her fists, but her expression was calm. She was bold, but her courage needed some training. "You can go, then. We don't know the situation inside, so we can only act when the Falcon Strike Unit arrives. All you need to do when you get in there is to save whoever is injured. Drag things out for as long as possible while ensuring your safety and wait for help." "Understood, sir." Freya wore her medical cap and gave herself a mental pep talk. "Freya…" Jason started. "I have to gain experience since I don't have it, Dr. Wood. You have to give me a chance," she said. That was what medicine was like. One had to be bold and careful while constantly defeating one's old self. That way, one would only become a better version of oneself. Jason knew what Freya was like. She'd met various people when treating patients. When some of them criticized or insulted her, she wouldn't take it lying down. Her retorts left much to be desired, though. For instance, if a patient said she was incapable and that a doctor online had told them this and that, she would say, "I'll leave, then. You can ask your online doctor to treat you." Once, someone had shouted at her, saying she was useless. She'd clapped back, calling that person the useless one. "Do you guys have a bulletproof vest or something? Give one to her." Jason knew nothing he said would change Freya's mind. The administrator gave one of his subordinates a look. A member of the SWAT team brought a bulletproof vest over. Freya took her doctor's coat off and put the bulletproof vest on over her T-shirt. Then, she put her uniform on. Chapter 5 Jade handed Freya the first-aid kit before hanging the stethoscope from her neck. "You're just going to ignore everything I told you before we came here, aren't you? You're bound to get into trouble if you continue like this." "No one is more suitable than me, Jade," Freya said calmly. "It's not like the military region's general hospital lacks doctors. If you turn them down, they'll arrange for someone else to come." "But it's too far away. They'll take at least 30 minutes to arrive. That doesn't conform to the principles of pre-hospitalization emergency care." Jade was one of the emergency room's most experienced nurses, so she knew Freya was right. It was the only thing they could do under the circumstances. The administrator held a loudspeaker and shouted toward the store, "The doctor is coming. Open the door." A hoarse voice rang out as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Put the first-aid kit on the ground and turn in a circle. Then, take everything out of the first-aid kit and lay them on the ground." Freya did as told. She'd just placed the final tool on the ground when the hoarse voice rang out again. "Put the things back in and come inside." Freya packed everything back. She was about to enter the store when she felt a cool breeze. Curious, she looked in the direction it had come. A helicopter was hovering in midair in one of the jewelry store's blind spots. A tall figure in camouflage slid down the rope and made a smooth landing. It happened in seconds. Freya stared at the man, finding his figure incredibly familiar. He wore a black mask, and his sharp eyes flitted past her. Then, he hid behind the wall. Another team member landed behind him. "Come in," the hoarse voice urged loudly. He sounded impatient. Freya knew she had to enter the store since these people had yet to infiltrate it. Once she understood that, she didn't hesitate to head inside. As soon as she pushed open the door, she smelled the metallic scent of blood. Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the neck and roughly dragged her inside. Then, he flung her onto the floor and commanded, "Save him." She looked at the man on the floor. His mask, shaped like a pig's head, had been thrown aside. He looked ashen while struggling to breathe and had cyanosis of the nail bed. These were all signs of a lack of oxygen. Freya checked him and concluded that he was having an asthma attack. His throat had swelled up, leading to breathing difficulties. She searched his bag while muttering, "Where's the inhaler?" Asthma patients would bring their inhalers when they were out, but she didn't find one in his bag. "What are you looking for?" a man in a mask shaped like a dog's head asked. "His inhaler," she said. "He doesn't have one. Do a cricothyrotomy on him right now." Freya was taken aback. "How are you related to him? You know how to save him?" Suddenly, he pressed a gun to her forehead. "Shut up if you don't want to die. Just do as I say!" The iciness of the metal made Freya's heart clench. Her mind went blank for a second, and she couldn't think. "Hurry up!" He kicked her shoulder. The pain made her snap to her senses. She forced herself to calm down and took a deep breath before commencing anatomical positioning and sterilization. Then, she inserted a thick injection needle into the cricothyroid membrane. The process didn't take long, and the man gradually started looking better. Suddenly, a black thing landed not far from Freya. Before she realized what it was, a few more followed. The inside of the store was quickly filled with smoke, and people started yelling. The alarm went off. Freya wanted to take advantage of the chaos to hide, but a hand wrapped around her neck. A gun was pressed to her forehead, and someone snarled, "You're coming with me." Chapter 6 The man dragged Freya to a secluded corner to hide. The cold feeling against her temple made her compliant. Her palms grew sweaty as she stood there, and she could hear her heart racing. No matter how nervous or scared she was, she could only place her faith in the Falcon Strike Unit and tightly hold the needle in her hand. A few minutes later, red lights flashed at them. The man dragged Freya out of their hiding spot. Before she could even see what was happening, she heard a muffled groan behind her. Then, there was a thump, and the robber's hand fell before her. She was still lost when a team of three surrounded her. A familiar voice said, "Take her out, Rabbit." "Roger, Falcon." This voice belonged to a woman. Rabbit, or Loren Smith, turned to Freya. "Come with me." Freya turned to look at the familiar man while following Loren out. He glanced at her while walking up the stairs, and his sharp eyes matched the ones in her memory. She asked Loren, "Is the person you called Falcon Daniel Talbot?" Loren faltered. Then, she continued walking out while observing their surroundings. She didn't respond to Freya's question, but Freya knew she was right. After leaving the jewelry store, the situation outside left no room for Freya to be pensive. She threw herself into work—the jewelry store's staff had more or less been injured. Jason was rescuing the most critically injured ones, so she had to handle those who were only bruised or scraped. The injured staff came and went as she stopped the bleeding, cleaned wounds, and bandaged them. "Freya." She looked up in the middle of stopping a patient's bleeding to see black leather boots before her. Then, she raised her head to find Daniel standing before her. She looked away and continued with her work. "Yes?" "Help me clean this up." He'd taken his mask off, his tanned face unreadable. It had been two years since they'd last seen each other. Now that they were reunited, Freya still couldn't help feeling a little scared of him. Based on what she remembered, he was a little domineering, and he spoke and acted brusquely. "I'm almost done here." She picked up the pace and recorded the time. Then, she called out to Jade, who was somewhere behind her, "I'm done with the last one, Jade. They can be sent to the hospital now." She turned back to Daniel. "Have a seat." She sterilized her hands and scanned him. There didn't seem to be any wounds on him, so she asked, "Where's your injury?" "The side of my abdomen." He lifted his shirt, revealing the bandage around his waist. Freya crouched before him, finding that the bandage had already been stained with blood. She removed it and looked at the stitches on the neat wound—it was a knife wound. He asked, "How have you been for the past two years?" "Not too bad." "I was on a mission abroad when your grandfather passed. I've only just returned." Freya faltered. Daniel was explaining why he had missed Neil's funeral. Her voice remained calm as she said, "I understand." They didn't speak anymore after that. Freya didn't ask about the wound, merely cleaning it and bandaging it again. She stood up and took off her gloves, throwing them into the medical waste bin. "You'll have to be careful with your wound for some time. It'll take longer for you to recover if you keep reopening it." "Thanks," he said. "You're welcome." Their conversation was polite and distant. "This is yours, right?" Daniel suddenly held out a sandalwood bracelet with an emerald pendant in the middle. Freya's face was carved on it—it didn't look much like her, though. It was a bracelet her father had made for her. "Yes, it is. Thanks." She reached out for it. Her fingers brushed against his palm as she took the bracelet from him, making her heart skip a beat. She immediately retracted her hand. "I'm leaving." Daniel stood up. He straightened his shirt and returned to his unit. Freya watched as the helicopter started up. The blades spun, lifting the aircraft into the air. Then, it flew away. "Let's go, Dr. Somner. We're taking a police car back," Jade called. Freya snapped to her senses. The helicopter was no longer in sight. All that was left was a vortex cloud left from its tail. She tightened her grip on the bracelet and packed everything up. Then, she ran to Jade with the first-aid kit and medical waste bag in hand. … After the incident, Jason requested that she be placed under counseling and given a month off. Freya returned to work after only three days at home, though. "Go home and rest," he said. "I need to do something with my hands, Dr. Wood." Jason pressed a hand to his forehead and threw her a pair of gloves. "Go to the debridement room and change the dressing for the patients there. You're not allowed to go on house calls or dispatches in the future." "Why?" Freya didn't get it.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15224&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	330	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15224&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/465177296_583272707382050_3697801936779761977_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=On6_glyA2zEQ7kNvgHF4Nke&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AqGrfk5qi-brf2Bzg-ZL2Ii&oh=00_AYBGKzFDxYxUsJapTHJdkFUH7ENmsaOF3dLDafPnVmXADg&oe=6774A211	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,653,041	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2653030}'	Yes	2024-12-27 09:57	active	2130	Chronic Overthinking Test 👉	✨️️️️️️️ Stop overthinking and start living today ✨️️️️️️️ 🎯 Boost confidence: Develop strategies for better decision making and self-esteem 💫 Eliminate negative thoughts: Learn how to identify and reduce toxic thought patterns ⌛ Live in the present moment: Become calm, happy, and trust your intuition	LEARN_MORE	https://mindway.app/start?qz=mw1&locale=EN_US	Mindway	https://www.facebook.com/61555945144541/	16,901	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	mindway.app	VIDEO		https://mindway.app/start?qz=mw1&locale=EN_US	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469892161_564963453157196_1244861355849633776_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=4AFmoBdsehIQ7kNvgHs8AZy&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ACoK2pGaP58qs-6tOtTkDQH&oh=00_AYDi18oQtVHjhMw_fxwGaLavacNIMHA0wHw2gEj4vOh-ng&oe=6774A841	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Mindway	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,652,516	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2652515}'	Yes	2024-12-27 08:05	active	2108	Ultimative Geschenkideen	Finde mit unserem Guide die besten festlichen Geschenke aus unseren 110 Boutiquen.	LEARN_MORE	https://www.thebicestercollection.com/ingolstadt-v	Ingolstadt Village	https://www.facebook.com/IngolstadtVillage/	133,901	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	www.thebicestercollection.com/ingolstadt-village	DCO	{{product.description}}	https://www.thebicestercollection.com/ingolstadt-village/de/produkte/der-ultimative-geschenke-guide?utm_source=meta&utm_medium=pdsoc&utm_campaign=christmas&utm_content=interest	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/465869335_1531554484395346_3601765042565485877_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=vPRvXBQ7qWwQ7kNvgFxmD8b&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ANOaomyGWUIn_W3tWpibeHp&oh=00_AYDCEEPxWphN3_g5e4FqYbdr0VaQDHdO0RuzLMx8evAh-A&oe=677472C5	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Ingolstadt Village	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,650,697	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2650706}'	Yes	2024-12-26 18:15	active	2091	Chronic Overthinking Test 👉	✨️️️️️️️ Stop overthinking and start living today ✨️️️️️️️ 🎯 Boost confidence: Develop strategies for better decision making and self-esteem 💫 Eliminate negative thoughts: Learn how to identify and reduce toxic thought patterns ⌛ Live in the present moment: Become calm, happy, and trust your intuition	LEARN_MORE	https://mindway.app/start?qz=mw1&locale=EN_US	Mindway	https://www.facebook.com/61555945144541/	16,464	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	mindway.app	VIDEO		https://mindway.app/start?qz=mw1&locale=EN_US	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/470027559_436664526167473_2313829820691597785_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Gm7GRBns4ScQ7kNvgGd0EBo&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AOQql7YArKTh6XdM4gjQS2P&oh=00_AYDFD7JvOTy-R4goYmv4Ox5-GLUaJT8QwxvV4oxKduamXw&oe=6773B582	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Mindway	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,653,262	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-12-27 10:27	active	2141	Transform Your Pet's Photo into Vibrant Art!	🐶 Surprise your loved ones with a personalized portrait of their furry friend! Each canvas is a unique work of art, created with love and attention to detail. Order now at mypetcanvas.com	SHOP_NOW	https://mypetcanvas.com/products/basquiat-canvas	My Pet Canvas	https://www.facebook.com/mypet.canvas.official/	1,528	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop Now	mypetcanvas.com	DCO	Trusted by Over 12K Pet Parents	https://mypetcanvas.com/products/basquiat-canvas	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/453017146_422292733458631_8129222518644715058_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=cwyXqz_K8iQQ7kNvgErz6zR&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AB7P-oBkJGsYjvWU8uPYF4F&oh=00_AYB2REWxXfWYcw5aornwuPpKcz2bOrQPgZLkD7W2mzl_Vw&oe=6774A9A4	PERSON_PROFILE	0	My Pet Canvas	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,650,639	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2650634}'	Yes	2024-12-26 18:13	active	2089		🎉✨ IT’S GIVEAWAY DAY! ✨🎉 This winter, I’m excited to try something new—a sun lamp to help boost energy, improve focus, and brighten my days (especially because I work from home). 💡 And here’s the best part: I want YOU to join me on this journey! I’m giving away a LASTAR Sun Lamp so we can explore its benefits together. Let’s beat the winter blues as a team! 🌞 Here’s how to enter: 1️⃣ Follow @thrive_heal_empower (if you’re not already!) 2️⃣ Like this reel ❤️ 3️⃣ Tag 2 friends in the comments who’d love to try this too! (Each comment = 1 entry!) 4️⃣ BONUS ENTRY: Share this reel to your story and tag me for an extra chance to win! ✨ Details: * Giveaway closes 12/31/24 at 11:59 PM EST]. * Winner will be announced on 1/1/25 in my stories! * Open to U.S. residents only! I hope to expand giveaways globally in the future, but for now, this one is just for U.S.-based followers. Thanks for understanding! ☺️ 🌟 I’m so excited to try this sun lamp for the first time, and I can’t wait to hear how it works for you, too! Let’s start 2025 on a brighter note—together! 🌟 (Be on the lookout: I will be posting stories over the next several days with more information about the sun lamp! 🌞 ) #Giveaway #LightUpYourLife #WinterWellness #EmpoweredLiving #ThriveHealEmpower #SunLamp #SelfCareGiveaway #TherapyLamp #MoodBoost #EnergyBoost #SeasonalWellness #VeganWellness #HealthyHabits #SelfCareForWomen #WomenOver50 #WinterBlues #LightTherapy #HealthyAndHappy #EmpowerYourself #ThriveInWinter #HealthJourney #WomenSupportingWomen #HealthyLivingTips #WellnessJourney #MindBodySoul #GlowUp #FeelGoodVibes	VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE	http://instagram.com/thrive_heal_empower	thrive_heal_empower	https://www.instagram.com/_u/thrive_heal_empower	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Visit Instagram profile	instagram.com	VIDEO		http://instagram.com/thrive_heal_empower	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-19/469731775_565607473202117_1521451630043620378_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s206x206_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=525117&_nc_ohc=iEIOFUIBhwoQ7kNvgGCaK8c&_nc_zt=24&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com&oh=00_AYAkI6HSO3zjpZmQgh3ZyEZa-0OcgjhKF480NtgruTStqg&oe=6773C6CA	IG_ADS_IDENTITY	1	thrive_heal_empower	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,652,405	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2652427}'	No	2024-12-27 08:03	active	2108	THE PAN OF THE FUTURE.	The Always Pan® Pro is everything you ever wanted in a pan. 🔥Combines high-heat searing power and the ease of nonstick 🫧Dishwasher safe ✅Free shipping & returns	SHOP_NOW	https://fromourplace.com/products/titanium-always-	Our Place	https://www.facebook.com/fromourplace/	76,265	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop Now	fromourplace.com	DCO	Try it 100 days, risk-free	https://fromourplace.com/products/titanium-always-pan-pro	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-3.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/467910505_762698286033441_278420383365276785_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=B0rzCzBPcrcQ7kNvgFqIoH7&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-3.xx&_nc_gid=AAoHkDe7L27Kjs2HPATpqHF&oh=00_AYBny3hVHFlm5qMYWCIDRPSPMuLSwqET3eg5F14HipqI3g&oe=67749188	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Our Place	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,651,416	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2651415}'	Yes	2024-12-27 07:00	active	2104	BMW M4 Competition + $40K Cash!	🚨Our shortest giveaway ever. This BMW M4 Competition X-Drive could be on your driveway by next week!	LEARN_MORE	https://tunercult.com/	TunerCult.com	https://www.facebook.com/officialtunercult/	576,677	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	tunercult.com	DCO	66 Past Winners Clicked The Link!	https://tunercult.com/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/471297645_580812698029037_7380033897136160451_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Mt7FFiAvTIoQ7kNvgETRLyP&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A8JbBqrpbaQq6lKex7MCI1P&oh=00_AYB5mCIkwMZCPJfufFbK2HbU5VFYnoLWpm0zmilnrH7igA&oe=67745AF9	PERSON_PROFILE	0	TunerCult.com	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,653,389	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2653437}'	Yes	2024-12-27 10:27	active	2141	He drunkenly hugged her “Call me husband again ......”	💔Nyla Jayston was in her third month of trying to conceive when she saw a message on her husband Clark Sumner's phone from a contact named "Jordyn Cheatham". Jordyn: [I think my new nightgown is a bit tight. Why don't you come over and check if it fits?] Attached was a selfie of a woman in a deep V-neck red slip dress, her body partly exposed, exuding seduction. Nyla's grip on the phone tightened. She scrolled up and found Clark and Jordyn's previous exchanges to be strictly work-related, which made her frown. 'Was the text sent by mistake? Or…' A hand wrapped around Nyla's waist from behind, breaking her thoughts. Clark pressed his warm body against hers and gently nibbled her earlobe. "Honey, I'm all cleaned up. Do you want to do it on the couch or the bed?" Before Nyla could respond, Clark picked her up and laid her on the couch, his tall frame looming over her. "Since you're not saying anything, I'll choose. Let's do it on the couch," Clark said, his voice husky and his eyes filled with a flicker of fire that made Nyla blush instantly. Nyla was already beautiful, and the slight flush on her cheeks made her look like a tempting, ripe, juicy peach under the light. Clark's gaze grew darker. He leaned in to kiss Nyla, but she suddenly turned her head away. Sensing her resistance, he looked at her with confusion. "Honey, what's wrong?" Clark, usually assertive at work, now looked at Nyla with a mix of confusion and hurt, which softened her heart momentarily. Despite that, she hadn't forgotten the explicit selfie she had just seen. She stopped him with one hand on his chest and held up his phone with the other, showing him the screen. "Explain this first." Clark glanced at the screen and immediately frowned, grabbing the phone to make a call. It was quickly answered. "Mr. Sumner, what can I do for you?" Clark glowered, and his voice turned icy. "I didn’t know my secretary started soliciting clients." There was a moment of silence before Jordyn's panicked voice came through. "M-Mr. Sumner, I'm sorry. That message was meant for my boyfriend. I must have sent it to you by mistake..." "Next time it happens, pack your things and leave!" Clark hung up and looked back at Nyla, his expression softening, even showing a hint of grievance. "Honey, she sent it by mistake. If you're still upset, I'll fire her tomorrow. It's late now, so let’s not waste time on someone unworthy. We haven't seen each other in a week. You need to make it up to me tonight." Clark pulled Nyla in for a kiss, but her mood was ruined despite the issue being cleared up. She wasn't in the mood anymore and pushed him away. "I'm tired tonight. Let's continue tomorrow." A flash of disappointment crossed Clark's eyes, but he didn't pressure her. "Alright, you sleep first. I'm not tired yet, so I'll go to the study to handle some work." "Okay." … It started raining heavily in the middle of the night. The sound woke Nyla, and she reached out only to feel the cold space beside her. She glanced at the clock—3:16 a.m. Nyla wondered whether Clark was still working. She got up, put on a robe, and went to the study, but it was dark and empty. Her grip on the doorknob tightened, and her heart sank. Nyla’s phone suddenly chimed, startling her in the quiet night. Seeing that it was a text from a stranger, she had a gut feeling that reading it would mean no turning back for her and Clark. A thunderclap boomed outside, startling her into accidentally pressing it. [Still awake? Because your husband isn't with you?] [I was scared because of the thunder and power outage, and he came to comfort me.] [Don't you want to know where your husband is?] As Nyla read the messages and the boastful tone, her hands trembled uncontrollably. After a long while, another text came in with an address and a series of digits. Nyla bit her lip, grabbed her car keys, and drove straight there. By the time she reached the villa, it was past 4:00 a.m. She entered the code, and the door unlocked. The living room lights were on. From the entrance to the bedroom door, a man's suit and a woman's lingerie were strewn about, revealing the urgency of their actions. Seeing the torn red nightgown at the bedroom door, Nyla felt a sense of absurdity. Although the distance from the entrance to the bedroom was only a few meters, it felt like an eternity to Nyla. Standing at the bedroom door, she felt light-headed and dizzy. She reached out, trembling, and slowly pushed the slightly open door. The sight of the messy bed and the bared couple entwined—their heavy breathing filling the room—pierced Nyla's heart. The couple was so engrossed that they didn't notice her standing there. Nyla's hand on the door frame turned white from gripping it too hard, leaving red marks on her palm. She had been with Clark for eight years, from school days to marriage, envied by everyone around them. Until today, she had never imagined betrayal between them. Now, reality dealt her a cruel blow. Even the most sincere wedding vows couldn't withstand a fickle heart. Unable to bear the sight, Nyla turned and stumbled out, driving away. She stopped by a bar on the way and decided to go in. … By the time Valarie Weir arrived, Nyla had already downed two bottles of whiskey, her gaze slightly unfocused. "Valarie, you're here..." Seeing Nyla surrounded by several men, Valarie frowned. "All of you, leave!" "No, they're fine here—" "I said, leave!" After driving the men away, Valarie sat next to Nyla. "What happened? Did Clark really cheat on you?" Valarie was Nyla's university roommate and had witnessed Nyla and Clark’s journey from school to marriage. She had seen Clark treat Nyla well all these years, so she couldn't believe he would cheat. Upon hearing Clark’s name, Nyla's gaze dimmed, and the heart-wrenching pain came rushing back. "I don't want to hear that name right now." Chapter 2 Nyla downed her drink in one gulp. She had never imagined Clark would betray her. Seeing him in bed with another woman felt like a dagger through her heart. "I just can't believe it. He loved you so much. He didn't seem like the type to cheat. Maybe there's a misunderstanding," Valarie suggested. Nyla let out a cold laugh. "I saw it with my own eyes. How could that be a misunderstanding?" The room fell silent. Watching Nyla drink like there was no tomorrow, Valarie grabbed the glass from her hand. "Even if he cheated, you shouldn't punish yourself by getting drunk. What are you going to do now?" "I'm getting a divorce. Just thinking about him with that woman makes me sick." Upon seeing the defiance in Nyla’s red eyes, Valarie's heart ached. "Don't think about it now. You need to rest. Decide what to do next once you’re calm. I'll take you home." Nyla shook her head. "No... I don't want to go back." Returning to that house would only bring back the sickening images of Clark’s betrayal. Each recollection made her feel nauseous. Seeing Nyla’s reluctance, Valarie didn't insist. "I'll book you a hotel room then." … After booking a room, Valarie took Nyla to the hotel entrance. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you up?" Nyla shook her head. "No, you go rest. I'll be fine." She waved with the room card and walked into the hotel. Seeing Nyla walk steadily, Valarie finally breathed a sigh of relief and drove away once Nyla was inside the hotel. What she didn't know was that Nyla, when drunk, appeared sober but was actually a mess inside. Nyla entered the elevator, scanned her card, and the elevator began to ascend. Soon, the doors opened with a ding. As Nyla stepped out onto the carpet, her legs almost gave out. She steadied herself against the wall, massaging her aching temples while searching for her room number. The wine was taking its toll, and her vision blurred. She found Room 8919 and tried the card on the door. Hearing no beep, she frowned and was about to push the door when it suddenly opened. Nyla froze. Before she could react, a large hand yanked her into the dark room. The door slammed shut, cutting off the light from the hallway. She was pressed against the door, a man's breath hot against her ear, making her shiver. The familiar scent of pine filled her senses, but before she could place it, she felt the warmth of his lips on hers. "Mmph!" Realizing what was happening, Nyla struggled. Damon was strong, and with the wine dulling her strength, her hands felt weak, almost inviting as she pushed against his chest. Damon’s hands roamed her body, leaving a trail of fire, and her body grew more responsive under his touch. Nyla tried to push him away, but he easily caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Let— Mmph! Let me go…" He stopped kissing her and chuckled. "No need to play hard to get." His fingers traced her collar, the cool touch making her shudder. His body heat seemed to melt her, and her legs grew weak. In the dark, Nyla’s senses heightened. She felt Damon unbuttoning her clothes, her mouth dry, her last bit of rationality warning her that this was going too far. "Let me go!" She mustered all her strength to push him, but he simply picked her up and threw her onto the bed. The bed was soft, so Nyla didn’t feel pain, but the impact made her head spin. She tried to get up, but Damon pinned her down. Soon, her clothes were gone, and they were both nearly bared. He pressed against her, ready. His dominating presence made her tremble. She pushed against his chest, biting her lip to stay calm and clear-headed. "Mister, I think I entered the wrong room. Please let me go…" Nyla’s voice shook with tension. "Tsk!" Damon's voice was impatient, his tone cold. "Still playing?" He was about to get up and kick Nyla out when the room light suddenly came on. Nyla had accidentally hit the light switch in her struggle. The sudden light made Damon squint. He was shocked when he saw the terrified woman beneath him. Nyla, recognizing Damon, felt the blood drain from her face. The fear sobered her instantly. She couldn’t believe it—the man who almost violated her was Clark’s uncle, Damon Summer! "Uncle Damon…" Nyla had always been wary of Damon. He was the youngest son of Richard Sumner and Marie Thorne, doted on by them and known for his unpredictable, cold nature. Even outsiders avoided crossing him. When she married Clark, he had warned her to steer clear of Damon. "Shut up!" Damon's face was dark, his gaze icy, as he contemplated whether to silence her for good. Then, his eyes shifted to her bare body, darkening further. He turned away, getting off the bed. "Get dressed and get out!" As Damon moved, Nyla caught a glimpse of him where she shouldn't, and her face turned red with embarrassment. Upon seeing her flushed face, Damon's expression soured even more. "Still not leaving?" Nyla could not care less about her embarrassment as she hastily dressed and left without looking back. Once outside, she checked the room number and realized her mistake—it wasn’t Room 8919, but Room 8916! She had entered the wrong room and almost slept with her husband’s uncle. The thought made her headache worse. She should have let Valarie take her up. Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets now. After Nyla left, Damon dialed a number with a glower on his face. "Delete all surveillance footage from the Empire Skyview Hotel tonight!" Upon hanging up, he looked at the messy bed and sheets, his irritation growing. He had almost slept with his nephew’s wife... What a mess! Chapter 3 On Nyla's way back, she hesitated for a long time before finally messaging Damon, someone whose contact she had had for three years but had never contacted. Nyla: [Uncle Damon... Can we pretend tonight never happened? I was really drunk and went to the wrong room.] She waited for a long time, but there was no response from Damon. Frowning, she sent another message. Nyla: [?] As soon as she sent it, a red exclamation mark appeared: [You are no longer friends with this user. Please send a friend request to continue chatting.] Nyla bit her lip. Damon had deleted her. He must not want to bring this up again. Relieved, she finally felt a bit of peace. … When Nyla got home, it was already past 6:00 a.m. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Clark sitting on the sofa. He turned sharply at the sound of the door, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. "Where were you last night? I called you dozens of times. Why didn’t you answer?" Clark stood up and walked quickly toward her, reaching out to grab her hand, but she pulled away. He froze, about to speak, but she spoke first, her tone icy. "You can stay out all night, but I can't?" Nyla had always been gentle. In their eight years together, they had hardly ever argued. This was the first time she had spoken to him so coldly. Clark sensed something was wrong and noticed her red, swollen eyes. His expression changed, and his hand clenched at his side. "You know, don't you?" His voice was calm, without a trace of guilt or panic, as if he had expected this day to come. Upon seeing his unapologetic demeanor, Nyla's long-suppressed emotions finally exploded. She swung her bag at him, her eyes red with fury, like a madwoman. All the good times they had shared, all the happy moments, were shattered the moment she saw him in bed with another woman. They could never be pieced together again. "Clark Sumner, how could you do something so disgusting?! If you didn’t love me anymore, you could have divorced me. Why did you have to hurt me like this?" Nyla had assumed that no third party could ever come between them. Unfortunately, reality gave her a harsh slap, waking her from the lies he had woven and turning her love for him into a joke. Seeing her red, tear-filled eyes, Clark felt a pang in his chest. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Nyla, I’m sorry..." Nyla shoved him away, wanting to laugh but only tears came. "Don’t touch me with your filthy hands! "Is it that hard to stay faithful? "Since we got married, I’ve met many excellent men, and some have shown interest in me. But I’ve never crossed the line. If I can do it, why can’t you?!" Clark clenched his fists when he saw the disappointment and anger in her eyes. "Nyla, you’re the only one I love… It was just an accident with her…" His explanation sounded so weak that Nyla found it both laughable and nauseating. "So you’re saying I could sleep with another man and then tell you it was an accident? That I may have betrayed you physically, but my heart still belongs to you?" A flash of ruthlessness crossed Clark's eyes. "If you dare, I’ll end you and that man together in bed." Seeing his icy gaze, Nyla felt a chill in her heart. If he knew betrayal was unforgivable, why would he still betray her? She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Do you remember what I told you when you proposed?" She had said that if he ever betrayed her, she would not forgive him but leave him. Clark’s expression changed. "I will not let you leave!" Nyla wiped her tears, her expression a mixture of ridicule and hatred. "Whether you agree or not, I’ve made up my mind. I’m divorcing you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness." With that, she ignored his reaction and went upstairs. Clark stared at her back, his gaze dark. … Back in the bedroom, Nyla went straight to the bathroom to shower, unable to stand the smell of wine on herself. While applying body wash, she noticed red marks on her chest and paused. The image of Damon’s hands roaming her body flashed through her mind, making her frown. She scrubbed the marks hard until the skin around them turned red, trying to erase his touch. After her shower, she saw Clark sitting on the bed with his head down, lost in thought. She frowned and decided to ignore him. They would be divorced soon anyway. Clark looked up and saw Nyla coming out in just a towel. Her damp hair dripped water, her freshly washed face flushed like a blooming rose with an enticing fragrance. The towel barely covered her behinds, revealing her long, fair legs. His breath hitched, his gaze glued on her. Nyla didn’t notice Clark's reaction. She walked to the wardrobe to grab her pajamas when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. "Nyla..." Clark's voice was husky, filled with undisguised desire. Clark had been thinking about how to win her back downstairs after she left. The only way he could think of was to have a child with her. He had come upstairs to discuss this with her, planning to take it slow. However, he lost control upon seeing her just out of the shower. In the past, such behavior would have stirred Nyla's feelings, but all she felt now was disgust. She turned and pushed him away, her gaze full of revulsion. "Don’t touch me. I feel dirty." Hurt flashed in Clark's eyes. He grabbed her hands, his expression earnest. "Didn’t you always want a child? Let’s have one now, okay?" Nyla shook him off at his matter-of-fact attitude. "That was before. I might have a child in the future, but it won’t be yours." Her words enraged Clark. He grabbed her and threw her onto the bed, pinning her down. "Say that again!" His eyes were full of anger, but Nyla didn’t care. "It doesn’t matter how many times I say it. I’m disgusted by you. I’d rather die than have your child." As soon as she finished speaking, Clark kissed her fiercely. Chapter 4 Nyla froze for a moment, then struggled desperately. Just the thought of Clark kissing another woman the night before filled her with disgust and rage. "Let go!" Her struggles were futile against Clark, who only tightened his grip around her waist. As she fought, her towel loosened, revealing her body. His gaze darkened, and he felt a rush of desire. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and Nyla quickly noticed the change in Clark. Furious, she bit him hard, tasting blood in their mouths. Instead of letting go, Clark's other hand slipped under Nyla's towel. She had nothing on underneath, having just come out of the shower. She stiffened and struggled even more fiercely. "Clark, get off me!" Clark ignored Nyla, his fingers teasing her sensitive spots. "Nyla, you need me too, don't you?" Nyla’s struggles were in vain, and she grew increasingly desperate. As Clark positioned himself, she closed her eyes in despair. "Clark, don't make me hate you." Clark halted abruptly. Seeing Nyla filled with despair and pain, like a fragile porcelain doll about to shatter, made him pause. He wanted her desperately, but a voice in his head warned that if he took her now, it would be the end of them. He stared at her, his hand tightening around her waist. After several tense seconds, he suddenly let go and got off the bed, leaving the room quickly. The door slammed shut with a loud bang, making Nyla flinch. She clutched the blanket tightly. … For the next few days, Clark didn't come home. Nyla called him several times to discuss the divorce, but he didn't respond. … The weekend arrived. Nyla was in the living room, sending out job applications when she heard the front door open. Clark walked in, looking haggard. They stared at each other in silence until Nyla broke it, closing her laptop and standing up calmly. "Since you're back, let's talk about the divorce." Clark frowned. "I told you, I won't divorce you. I'm here to remind you that we have to go to the family dinner tonight." The Sumners held a monthly dinner, and ever since their wedding, Clark and Nyla had attended together. The family wasn't kind to Nyla, often treating her poorly. She endured it because she believed Clark loved her. After seeing him with another woman, however, she couldn't lie to herself anymore. "I don't want to go. Go by yourself." Clark’s expression turned impatient. "Nyla, how long are you going to keep this up?" He had ignored her calls and messages, hoping she would calm down, but she was still the same. "I'm not keeping anything up. I just want a divorce." Upon hearing the word "divorce", Clark's patience wore thin. He looked at Nyla as if she were unreasonable. "Divorce? You haven't worked since we got married. How will you support yourself? Which company would hire you? And what about your father's exorbitant medical bills? Can you afford those? "Nyla, you're not a teenager anymore. You're 28. It's time to grow up. "I'm the CEO of the Sumner Group. I face temptations all the time. Sometimes, it's hard to resist, but those women will never take your place as my wife. What more do you want?" Clark couldn't understand why Nyla didn't see that he still loved her, even if he couldn't commit to being with her forever. Seeing Clark’s arrogant demeanor, Nyla couldn't reconcile this man with the shy boy who had once blushed while confessing his love and promising never to hurt her. Maybe this was his true self—selfish, proud, and condescending. "If being mature means tolerating your infidelity, then I'm sorry, I can't do that. Find someone else. Here are the divorce papers I've had drafted. Sign them when you have time." Clark glanced at the documents, sneering when he saw the section on asset division. "Quite the appetite you have, asking for half my assets. Do you really think that's possible?" "I deserve it. Why not?" Clark chuckled, his tone mocking. "Look around this house. Did you buy anything here? I've been covering your father's medical expenses for years. If we tally things up, you should be paying me. Should I have my lawyer do the math?" As Nyla watched his bitter expression, she couldn't believe she had once loved this man. He had hidden his true self so well that, until she caught him cheating, she had thought he was a great guy. "Don't forget, if it weren't for me giving you that patent, you wouldn't be the Sumner Group's CEO. And you were the one who told me to stay home after we got married. If I had continued my research, I would have earned far more than what you've given me." Unfazed, Clark replied, "Who would believe you about the patent now? "I don't want to argue about money, but if you insist on a divorce, we'll have to settle accounts. Nyla, as long as you drop the divorce idea, my money is still yours to use." "Clark, you're despicable!" Since he refused to divorce, she'd have to sue. She turned to leave, but he blocked her. "Change your clothes. We're going to the family dinner." "I said I'm not going. Tell them I'm not feeling well." Clark grabbed her wrist. "Nyla, I'm running out of patience. Don't force me to cut off your father's medical expenses." "You wouldn't dare!" Clark took out his phone and called his secretary. "Cancel my father-in-law's medical payment for next month—" Furious, Nyla grabbed his phone and ended the call. "You're crossing a line, Clark." "Crossing a line?" Clark's gaze was full of contempt as he yanked her closer. "Everything you have is because of me. Don't you think you're the one crossing the line? Change your clothes, or I have numerous ways to make you comply." Chapter 5 Seeing the coldness in Clark's eyes, Nyla realized how blind she had been to fall in love with such a man. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she refused to show any vulnerability in front of him. She yanked her hand away, took a deep breath, and headed upstairs. The only thought in her mind was to find a job quickly so she could move out and divorce Clark. She grabbed a random outfit, tied her hair up with a hairpin, and went back downstairs. She was never one to fuss over her appearance. In the past, she had dressed up for the Sumners' gatherings to make a good impression. Now, she couldn't care less. Hearing her footsteps, Clark looked up. Nyla wore a fitted white dress, her waist so slender it seemed it could be encircled with one hand. Her hair was secured with a jade hairpin, revealing her delicate neck. She was breathtakingly beautiful. The grace she exuded was just like when they first met. However, the look in her eyes now was devoid of any warmth. "Let’s go," she said. They drove to the Sumner residence in silence. As they arrived and were about to get out of the car, a black Range Rover sped up and stopped abruptly in front of them. Upon recognizing the car, Clark's expression darkened. It was Damon's car, someone he both feared and disliked. Damon was known for his reckless and unpredictable behavior. He had refused to take over the Sumner Group when Richard wanted him to run the company, choosing to start his own business instead. Everyone had expected him to fail, but within five years, his company had grown to be worth several times more than the Sumner Group. Clark couldn't stand Damon, partly out of jealousy. Once, a comment Clark made about Damon reached Damon's ears, and in retaliation, Damon refused to collaborate with the Sumner Group, costing them millions. Damon rarely attended family dinners, and Clark had hoped to avoid him. Luck wasn’t on his side today—they met at the door. He didn’t notice Nyla’s stiffened expression when she saw Damon get out of his car. Clark opened the car door and greeted, "Uncle Damon." Damon glanced at him indifferently, his gaze briefly landing on the passenger seat before he nodded and walked into the house. Nyla let out a deep breath. When Damon looked her way, she had forgotten to breathe, fearing he might say something outrageous. He was known for his unpredictable nature, always doing whatever he pleased. Fortunately, he said nothing. She decided she needed to talk to him privately later. As Clark and Nyla walked into the living room, they saw it was already filled with people. Richard and Marie, the family heads, were chatting with Damon. He was the kind of person who naturally stood out in a crowd. Noticing Nyla’s gaze on Damon, Clark frowned. "Why are you staring at my uncle?" Nyla withdrew her gaze and replied coolly, "None of your business." Her coldness irritated Clark. "Nyla, you know I don’t like you paying attention to other men." Ever since they got together, Clark had been extremely controlling, not allowing Nyla to interact with other men. She used to think this was a sign of his love, but now it seemed laughable. She sneered. "And I don’t like you sleeping with other women, but you seem to enjoy it just fine." Clark said through gritted teeth, "This is a family dinner. We’ll deal with this later." "If you don’t want me to bring it up, then stay out of my business," she retorted. Clark didn’t want to cause a scene now because it might affect the Sumner Group and his standing with Richard, who still held all the company’s shares. As they talked, Marie called out, "Nyla, Clark, you’re here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she approached. She might not like the Sumners, but she maintained basic manners. "Hello, Grandpa, Grandma," she greeted with a smile. Marie, who had been urging Damon to settle down and get married, looked pleased to see the couple. "Come, sit down." She turned to Damon with a hint of dissatisfaction. "Look at Clark. He manages the company well and has a beautiful wife. They might have children soon. And you? Almost 30 and still single. If you don’t bring a girlfriend next time, don’t bother coming!" Damon glanced at the couple with a smirk. "She is indeed beautiful." He just wondered how that petite frame would suffer if she were to have children. Nyla frowned, feeling uncomfortable with Damon’s gaze. Clark also noticed the inappropriate way Damon looked at Nyla. It wasn’t the look of an elder but more like a man admiring a woman. His hand clenched into a fist, and his body tensed. Marie sighed. "My point is, when will you bring me a daughter-in-law?" "Depends. If I meet someone I like, maybe I’ll bring her back tomorrow," Damon replied nonchalantly. "You’re too picky! I’ve arranged a good match for you. Date's tomorrow, don’t ruin it." "Then you’ll probably have to apologize to another old friend tomorrow." Frustrated, Marie snapped, “You’re going to drive me crazy!” Damon glanced at Clark. “Clark's been married for years. Instead of pushing me, why don’t you encourage him to have kids?” Marie nodded, realizing Damon wouldn’t listen to her. She turned to Nyla and Clark, her expression softening. “Nyla, you and Clark have been married for a few years now. When are you planning to have children?” Chapter 6 Nyla lifted her head to speak, but Clark grabbed her hand and smiled. "Grandma, we're working on it!" Nyla tried to pull her hand away, but Clark's grip was too tight. If he wouldn't let her be, she wouldn't make it easy for him either. She turned to Marie. "Grandma, I'm looking for a job right now, so having children might have to wait." The room fell silent. Clark's grip on Nyla's hand tightened painfully, and she winced. Damon glanced at Clark's hand on Nyla, noticing the bulging veins, then looked away indifferently. Clark’s aunt, Anne Sumner, sneered. "Nyla, don't blame me for being blunt. You've been married for years. How can you not have a child yet? If it weren't for Clark insisting on marrying you, do you think your family could have ever married into the Sumners? "You should be grateful. If you don't want to have Clark's child, there are plenty of women who do. If someone else steps in, you’ll be the one looking silly." Besides, Anne thought, "Who knows if Nyla is fertile?" She sounded like she meant well, but her gaze at Nyla was filled with an air of superiority. Marie frowned at Anne, disapproving. "Anne, enough." Anne pursed her lips but stayed silent. Marie turned back to Nyla with a kind smile. "Nyla, you and Clark are still young. If you don't want children yet, that's fine. Just don't overwork yourself. Our family isn't short on money. You can work if you want, but take it easy." Nyla nodded. "I understand, Grandma." With that, the awkward moment passed, and the room returned to its previous warmth. Seeing the attention shift away, Clark pulled Nyla out of the living room. Once they reached the gazebo in the backyard, he released her. "Nyla, have you lost your mind? Do you want everyone to know about our fight?" Nyla rubbed her sore hand and said, "I was just being honest." "Honest?" Clark scowled. "Should I call your father then?" Harrison Jayston was ill and couldn't handle stress. Nyla planned to divorce Clark before breaking the news to him gently. She glared at Clark. "You wouldn’t dare! You were the one who cheated. What right do you have to be so self-righteous?" Clark clenched his hands, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it was replaced by impatience. "I promised it wouldn’t happen again. If you don't want to see Jordyn, I'll fire her. What more do you want?" Nyla felt like there was a communication breakdown between them and turned away. "I don't want to argue with you here." When Clark saw her red-rimmed eyes, he softened. "Nyla, I truly know I was wrong. Just don't mention divorce, and I'll make it up to you. I love you. I can't let you go." Nyla found it laughable. How could he claim to love her while being with another woman? Just thinking about him with someone else made her sick. "I will never forgive you." Betrayal was her bottom line. She couldn’t pretend nothing had happened or reconcile with him. Clark knew Nyla well enough to understand that he had to be patient. He believed she still had feelings for him. Otherwise, she would have made a bigger scene when she found out. As long as he refused to divorce her, she would eventually forgive him. "Fine, we won't talk about it now. If you don't want kids yet, we’ll postpone it to two years later. Since you want to work, I'll have my secretary find you a position at the Sumner Group." Nyla laughed at his arrangement, a mocking look in her eyes. "Clark, do you see me as a puppet you can control?" Hurt by her gaze, Clark frowned. "How am I controlling you? You don't want kids now, so I agreed to wait two years. You want to work, so I'll arrange it. What more do you want?" "Stop pretending. I don't want kids because I want a divorce. I want to work to sever ties with you." Clark looked at Nyla's stubborn face, displeased. Since their wedding, she had been like a canary in his cage. He couldn't let her go. "As long as I don't agree, this marriage won't end. Even if you tell a lawyer I cheated, do you have proof?" Clark's confident tone and controlling demeanor made Nyla step back, trembling with anger. She finally saw how selfish and disgusting he was. She had wasted eight years—the best years of her life, from 18 to 26—loving this man. "You make me sick, Clark!" 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