His Thirty-Fourth Accidental Betrayal

His Thirty-Fourth Accidental Betrayal

Nina Brooks

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My fiancé, the city's top surgeon, has always taken such good care of me. That's why our wedding has been postponed thirty-three times. Then, one night in the hospital, I overheard him talking to a friend. He confessed he was the one behind all thirty-three of my "accidents." He was in love with a new resident, Kalea, and couldn't bear to marry me out of family obligation. His cruelty escalated. When Kalea framed me for slapping her, he shoved me back onto my bed, calling me insane. When she faked a suicide attempt on a rooftop, he rushed to save her, letting me fall off the edge without a second glance. While I lay paralyzed in a hospital bed, he had my mother beaten in prison as punishment, and she died from her injuries. On the day of her funeral, he took Kalea to a concert. I was his fiancée. My father had sacrificed his career to save his. Our families had bound us together. Yet he destroyed my body, my mother, and my voice, all for a woman he'd just met. Finally, he let Kalea, the woman he loved, perform surgery on my throat, and she deliberately ruined my vocal cords, destroying my ability to ever sing again. When I woke up, voiceless and broken, and saw the triumphant smirk on her face, I finally understood. I snapped my SIM card, walked out of the hospital, and left everything behind. He had taken my voice, but he would not take the rest of my life.

Chapter 1

My fiancé, the city's top surgeon, has always taken such good care of me. That's why our wedding has been postponed thirty-three times.

Then, one night in the hospital, I overheard him talking to a friend. He confessed he was the one behind all thirty-three of my "accidents." He was in love with a new resident, Kalea, and couldn't bear to marry me out of family obligation.

His cruelty escalated. When Kalea framed me for slapping her, he shoved me back onto my bed, calling me insane.

When she faked a suicide attempt on a rooftop, he rushed to save her, letting me fall off the edge without a second glance.

While I lay paralyzed in a hospital bed, he had my mother beaten in prison as punishment, and she died from her injuries. On the day of her funeral, he took Kalea to a concert.

I was his fiancée. My father had sacrificed his career to save his. Our families had bound us together. Yet he destroyed my body, my mother, and my voice, all for a woman he'd just met.

Finally, he let Kalea, the woman he loved, perform surgery on my throat, and she deliberately ruined my vocal cords, destroying my ability to ever sing again. When I woke up, voiceless and broken, and saw the triumphant smirk on her face, I finally understood.

I snapped my SIM card, walked out of the hospital, and left everything behind. He had taken my voice, but he would not take the rest of my life.

Chapter 1

My thirty-fourth wedding was supposed to be tomorrow.

It was also the thirty-fourth time it had been postponed.

The first time, I fell down the stairs and broke my leg. The second time, a chandelier fell and gave me a concussion. The third time, food poisoning. The list went on.

Each time, it was an "accident." Each time, I ended up in the hospital, and our wedding was called off.

I lay in the sterile white bed, my body a map of old and new injuries. I was so weak I' d had several close calls, my life hanging by a thread. The doctors and nurses whispered about how unlucky I was.

I tried to sit up, a sharp pain shooting through my ribs. I just wanted to get some water, a small act of normalcy in a life that had become anything but. The effort left me breathless.

My fiancé, Drake Miles, was the most brilliant surgeon in the city. He always took such good care of me.

That' s what I used to believe.

As I slowly made my way down the quiet hospital corridor, I heard voices from a secluded balcony. One was Drake' s.

I stopped, hidden by the turn in the hall.

"Drake, are you serious? Another 'accident'?" It was his friend, a fellow doctor. "This is the thirty-third time Elyse has been hurt right before the wedding. Don't you think this is getting out of hand?"

My blood turned to ice. My hand, reaching for the wall to steady myself, started to shake.

Thirty-three times. He' d been counting.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Drake' s voice was cold, stripped of the warmth he always used with me. "I can't marry her."

"Then just break it off! Why do you keep hurting her like this? You almost killed her last time."

"It' s not that simple," Drake said, his voice laced with irritation. "My family owes her. My father ruined her father' s career, and we have a responsibility. This marriage is that responsibility."

A responsibility. Not love.

The truth I had refused to see for years was suddenly laid bare.

"A responsibility you're willing to fulfill by torturing her?" his friend asked, his tone incredulous.

"I don't have a choice," Drake snapped. "But it doesn't matter. I have to keep my distance. Especially from Kalea."

Kalea Hampton. The new medical resident. The one he mentored. The one whose name I' d heard him mention with a softness I' d once mistaken for professional pride.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Drake didn' t answer immediately. The silence was his confession. "I can't be."

His words were a final, brutal blow. My heart felt like it had stopped. The air left my lungs, and the hallway started to tilt.

I stumbled back, my vision blurring. Tears I didn' t know I was crying streamed down my face.

I ran, or as close to running as my battered body would allow, back to the safety of my room. I collapsed onto the bed, the flimsy mattress doing little to cushion the fall.

Thirty-three accidents.

The faulty stage light at my concert. The brake failure in my car. The "accidental" push into a swimming pool when I couldn't swim.

All of it. All of it was him.

All because he didn't want to marry me.

He was Drake Miles, the golden heir of the city's most powerful medical family. I was Elyse Maynard, an indie musician whose late father had been a brilliant surgeon. My father had sacrificed his career, taking the blame for a mistake made by Drake's father. Because of that, the Miles family had taken me in, promising to care for me for the rest of my life.

Our engagement was their way of fulfilling that promise.

I had thought his meticulous care, his gentle touches, his worried frowns when I was hurt-I had thought it was love.

Now I knew it was just guilt.

The pain from my injuries flared, a dull, throbbing echo of the agony in my chest. Every wound on my body screamed in protest, a chorus of his betrayal.

The door opened. It was Drake.

He walked in, his face a perfect mask of concern. "Elyse, you shouldn't be out of bed. Your ribs are still healing."

He mentioned his responsibility again, and the word made my stomach clench.

"Let me change your dressing," he said, his voice the soft, caring tone he reserved for me.

He sat on the edge of my bed, his medical kit in hand. As he prepared the antiseptic, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and for a second, his professional mask slipped.

I saw the phone charm dangling from it-a small, handcrafted sun. My eyes fixed on it.

I remembered giving him a similar charm years ago, one I' d made myself. He' d called it childish and tossed it in a drawer. But this one, this sun, was identical to the one worn by Kalea Hampton. I' d seen it on her coat just the other day.

He answered the call, his voice instantly changing, becoming warm and intimate.

"Kalea? What's wrong?"

I could hear her soft, anxious voice through the phone. She needed his help with a patient case, she said. She sounded panicked.

A genuine smile touched Drake's lips, a smile I hadn't seen directed at me in years. "Don't worry. I'll be right there."

He hung up. His good mood vanished as his eyes fell back on me. He seemed impatient, his movements now rushed.

He picked up the forceps and a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. He was supposed to apply a local anesthetic first. He always did.

This time, he didn't.

He pressed the stinging antiseptic directly onto my open wound.

A gasp of pain escaped my lips. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The world swam before my eyes.

"Drake," I choked out, my voice trembling. "The anesthetic..."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I was distracted," he said, his tone dismissive. He didn't stop. Instead, his movements became faster, rougher. "Just hold on. It'll be over in a second."

My body convulsed. I dug my nails into the sheets, biting my lip to keep from screaming. The physical pain was nothing compared to the truth that was searing itself into my mind.

He was hurting me so he could rush to her side.

He finished quickly, tossing the used supplies onto the tray with a clatter. "I have to go. There' s an emergency at the hospital. Be good and stay in bed."

He stood up and walked out without a backward glance.

The door clicked shut, leaving me in a world of pain and silence.

My heart felt like it was being shredded. A single tear rolled down my cheek, then another.

The agony, both from my wound and my shattered heart, was too much.

My vision went black as I fainted.

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