The Unwanted Healer's Thirty-Day Fake Marriage

The Acela Express train tore through the tracks between Washington D.C. and New York, the metal carriage vibrating with a slight, continuous sway.

Cynthia Bowers sat by the window, her fingers digging into the worn fabric of her canvas tote bag. She kept her eyes glued to the blurred trees outside, forcing her breathing to stay even. The enclosed space of the train car made her chest tight, a mild claustrophobia she fought to suppress every time she traveled.

"Sir. Sir, look at me."

The low, urgent voice came from the seat right next to her. Cynthia didn't turn her head, but her peripheral vision caught the sudden, violent movement.

Dominic Church was suffocating. His large hands gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles turned completely white. The veins on the back of his hands bulged against his skin. His chest heaved in rapid, shallow jerks, but no air seemed to reach his lungs.

Leo, a heavily built bodyguard sitting in the row ahead, twisted around in a panic. He reached out, his thick fingers fumbling to loosen Dominic's expensive silk tie.

Dominic blindly swatted Leo's hand away. A low, agonizing groan ripped from his throat. His massive frame curled inward, pressing into the wide leather seat. The severe paranoia he suffered from had triggered a full-blown neurological spasm. His muscles were locking up, betraying him.

Whispers broke out across the first-class cabin. Passengers turned their heads, their eyes wide with curiosity and alarm. Yet, the freezing, dangerous aura radiating from Dominic kept everyone glued to their seats. No one dared to step forward.

Cynthia stared harder at the window. Not my business, she told herself. Keep your head down.

Then, Dominic let out a ragged, wet gasp. His face drained of all color, turning a sickly, ashen white. His lips began to take on a bluish tint.

The instinct of a healer-the instinct of The Surgeon-bypassed her brain. Cynthia unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up.

Before her foot even hit the aisle, Leo's massive arm shot out like an iron bar, blocking her path.

"Step back," Leo barked, his eyes scanning her plain sweater and frayed bag with intense suspicion. "Stay away from him."

Cynthia didn't flinch. She met Leo's aggressive glare with eyes as cold as ice. "Move, or he dies in two minutes. I can fix this."

Dominic's body convulsed violently against the leather seat. His eyes rolled back. He was seconds away from going into shock.

Leo glanced back at his boss, his hesitation lasting exactly one second. In that tiny window, Cynthia ducked swiftly under his thick arm.

She dropped to one knee beside Dominic's seat. Sweat coated his forehead, his jaw locked in a terrifying grimace.

Without wasting a breath, Cynthia reached up to her messy bun. Her fingers quickly unclasped a long, sharp-tipped metal hairpin that held her hair together. Her dark locks tumbled down over her shoulders in a wild cascade, but she didn't care. It was the only sharp, clean object she had on her.

Leo saw the glint of the metal. "What the hell is that?" he roared, lunging forward to grab her hand.

Cynthia didn't even look at him. In that split second, her survival instincts kicked in. She ducked low, dropping her shoulder with a raw, almost feral agility to narrowly evade Leo's massive hand. It was a completely unrefined, clumsy movement, but it was fast enough to keep her out of his reach. At the exact same moment, her right hand moved.

She drove the silver needle directly into the acupressure point on the inside of Dominic's wrist. It was fast, brutal, and perfectly accurate.

A sharp, piercing pain sliced through the fog in Dominic's brain. His eyes snapped open. His vision was heavily blurred from the lack of oxygen, the world reduced to hazy shapes and shadows.

Through the blur, he saw the sharp, cold line of a woman's jaw. And right in front of his eyes, a delicate silver bracelet gleamed on her wrist as her hand hovered over him.

The violent spasms in his chest instantly began to loosen. Air rushed back into his lungs in a harsh, greedy breath.

But the deep-rooted paranoia in his mind screamed at him. A threat. Someone is touching me.

Dominic's large hand shot out like a trap. His fingers clamped down around Cynthia's wrist with crushing, terrifying force.

Cynthia gasped, her face twisting in pain. The bones in her wrist ground together under his grip. "Let go," she hissed, her brow furrowing deeply.

The train suddenly lurched, the brakes engaging with a heavy screech. The automated voice over the intercom announced their imminent arrival at Penn Station.

Using the train's massive forward momentum, Cynthia yanked her arm back with all her strength.

Snap.

The fragile clasp of her bracelet broke. The thin silver chain slid off her skin and tangled itself tightly around Dominic's custom cufflink.

Footsteps pounded down the aisle. A train conductor and an armed transit officer rushed toward them, carrying a bright orange medical kit. Chaos erupted as passengers stood up to look.

Cynthia didn't hesitate. She grabbed her canvas bag, shoved the needle inside, and blended straight into the crowd of people moving toward the exit doors.

Dominic's heavy eyelids fluttered shut. As he slipped into an exhausted, drug-like sleep, his fingers curled inward, trapping the broken silver chain tightly in his palm.