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Falling For My Cheating Boyfriend's Uncle
"I'm badly injured. Get over here right now!" Fresh off a grueling twelve-hour open-heart surgery, I received a frantic call from my boyfriend, Derik. Without even changing my scrubs, I rushed through Boston's freezing autumn rain to the bar. But the moment I pushed open the VIP room door, my blood ran completely cold. Derik was sitting perfectly unharmed on the sofa, with a scantily clad, third-rate model straddling his lap. Seeing me soaked to the bone and looking like a mess, the model didn't get off him. Instead, she leaned into his chest with fake innocence: "Sorry to bother you, sis. I just twisted my ankle, but Derik was so worried he insisted a top doctor like you come take a look." The cold rain dripped from my hair. Swallowing the sharp pain in my chest, my voice trembled: "I'm a cardiothoracic surgeon. I can't treat an ankle." "If you can't even look at a twisted ankle, what use are you?" Derik interrupted impatiently, looking at me like I was a cheap object. "Don't forget, my family funded your medical degree. You're nothing but a free maid we took in out of charity! As long as you behave, I might still let you keep the title of my girlfriend." In that instant, my four years of walking on eggshells and compromising felt like a massive joke. Instead of crying and begging like he expected, I looked at him coldly. "You're right, I can't treat it. So I'm officially giving up the position of your girlfriend to her." Leaving Derik staring in shock, I turned around, walked out of the room, and rushed straight into a restroom stall. Just as I was about to let out a sob, the door was violently kicked open. A towering, blood-soaked man forced his way in, pinning me hard against the wall. The overwhelming scent of fresh blood and dangerous masculinity instantly enveloped me. "Keep your mouth shut if you want to live." Hearing the assassins' footsteps approaching outside, my doctor's instinct kicked in. I yanked his belt loose, grabbed his collar, and kissed him fiercely. I thought I had just saved a stranger, until a few days later when Derik's grandmother suffered a severe heart attack. Her life was hanging by a thread, and the surgery required the signature of the family's ultimate patriarch. Outside the ER, Derik arrogantly showed up with his arms around that model. "She's already carrying my child! Once my grandmother wakes up, I'm kicking you out of this hospital!" he yelled at me. Suddenly, the temperature in the hallway seemed to drop below freezing. Flanked by two rows of bodyguards, a terrifyingly powerful man strode out. Derik, who was acting so high and mighty a second ago, instantly turned pale. He shrank like a frightened mouse, trembling as he bowed his head: "U-Uncle..." My mind completely short-circuited, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. The dangerously lethal man I had fiercely kissed and stripped to bandage in that dirty restroom late that night... was actually Derik's most feared and revered billionaire uncle?!Gracelyn POV:
Fresh off a grueling twelve-hour coronary bypass surgery, I received a frantic call from my boyfriend, Derik Mccarthy, claiming he was badly injured and needed me immediately.
I rushed through Boston's freezing autumn rain and burst into the VIP room of the sports bar he had texted me, only to find a blonde woman with her pale, slender legs draped shamelessly over Derik's thighs, her eyes rimmed with red.
It was Krystle Paul, a minor model desperate to claw her way into the NHL WAG circle.
"Gracelyn, you're finally here. Krystle hurt her ankle. Hurry up and look at it," Derik ordered. There wasn't an ounce of guilt in his voice, just impatient entitlement.
Soaked to the bone by the freezing rain, my heart plummeted.
So he had panicked me into rushing over in a storm just to treat his new fling's ankle?
Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I crouched down anyway. But just as my hand reached out, before my fingers even brushed her skin—
"Ah! It hurts!" Krystle let out a shrill, agonizing gasp, burying her face into Derik's neck.
"Gracelyn, are you blind? Can't you be gentle?!" Derik snapped, his eyebrows knotting together in furious annoyance.
I froze. "I haven't even touched her yet."
"If you didn't touch her, why would she cry out in pain?" Derik glared at me, his large hand gently rubbing Krystle's back to soothe her.
Looking at the man in front of me, the extreme contrast felt like a scalpel slicing straight into my chest.
I had been his girlfriend for four years, but before that, we had known each other for twelve years. We went to the same private schools. Every off-season, I meticulously managed his diet. When he ran a fever during his rookie season, I stayed awake for forty-eight hours straight, applying cold compresses so he wouldn't miss a game.
He had known this girl for what? Four days? Yet he chose to believe her cheap tears over me.
I slowly stood up, my spine perfectly straight. "I'm a cardiothoracic surgeon, Derik. I can't treat this."
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