Just A Plus Size Ugly Woman Nah Shes His Unreachable Queen

OLIVIA

I was trembling all over as I stared at the man inside the consultation room, fear crashing over me like a storm.

"A cheap, fat girl like that? I would never date her."

That was what he had said to his friends after a one-night stand.

Now, he had become my daughter's doctor-Dr. Noah Ezekiel Morgan.

The woman he had despised had given birth to his daughter.

He knew nothing about what happened afterward. Seven years had passed since the last time we met, and I had never imagined I would run into him again.

As if fate were mocking me, he was now the very heart specialist assigned to treat my daughter.

I bit down on my lower lip. Should I turn around and leave immediately? I glanced at the little hand holding mine. My daughter looked up at me, confusion filling her eyes. I forced a smile and shook my head, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay.

I thought I had already run far enough.

Three months ago, I moved with Hannah from Hanover, New Hampshire, to Manhattan. Not because we liked the noise or the chaos, but because I had no other choice.

In Hanover, I had lived with the shadows of my past for far too long. The town was so small that even changing my hairstyle could become gossip at the church lunch table-let alone raising a child "without a father."

I wanted better medical resources for my daughter. And I wanted a chance to start over.

Manhattan was expensive, loud, and cruel-but no one knew me here. I no longer had to endure pointing fingers or fake smiles with my uncle's acquaintances. I now worked as an advertising sales rep at a Manhattan ad agency, earning just enough to scrape by.

When Dr. Smith suggested transferring Hannah to the city's top cardiac specialist-Dr. Harrison-I believed it marked the beginning of our turnaround.

That was, until I stood at the doorway of this office and saw that familiar back.

I was here today for my daughter's appointment. My six-year-old, Hannah, was born with congenital heart disease caused by premature birth. To ensure her condition was closely monitored, I had been bringing her in for regular checkups.

Dr. Smith, who had cared for Hannah since birth, recommended consulting Dr. Harrison-a renowned cardiologist and the director of Palo Alto Medical Center. According to his latest evaluation, my daughter needed surgery.

Just hearing the name of the hospital where Dr. Harrison worked told me I would need a huge sum of money to cover the procedure. But I didn't care how much it cost-as long as it could save my daughter's life.

After we arrived at the hospital, the nurse told me Dr. Harrison was out of town and recommended Dr. Morgan, who had just returned from overseas. She explained that Dr. Morgan was Dr. Harrison's favorite student and held both an MD and a PhD. After hearing his credentials, I agreed.

Who could have imagined that the Dr. Morgan she mentioned was Noah?

"Come in."

Noah's low voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

He lifted his head and looked in our direction. His gaze lingered on me for a moment before he returned to his work. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat, and instinctively, I clenched my fists.

"Mom, you're hurting me," Hannah whispered.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," I said immediately, loosening my grip. Just as I was about to explain, Noah spoke again.

"Ms. Evans, how can I help you?"

His tone was calm-professionally neutral, like any other doctor.

In that instant, I felt a rush of relief, followed almost immediately by the urge to laugh at myself. There was no way he recognized me. The woman standing before him now was nothing like the girl in his memory.

I had never planned to tell him we had a child. What happened between us that night was nothing more than a transaction. And with so many women lining up to sleep with him, how could he possibly remember someone like me?

He was the heir to a billion-dollar business empire spanning three continents, with interests in finance and energy. I was just an orphan adopted by my uncle after losing my parents. There was no way he would remember me.

Yes, we had attended the same university-Dartmouth College. But on that campus, he was always the star of every party. I was the girl hiding in the shadows of the library, wrapped in oversized sweaters.

Back then, I weighed over two hundred pounds. I had social anxiety. No matter how good my grades were, no one noticed. I didn't belong in his world. Even if we passed each other in the hallway, his eyes would never pause on me for even half a second.

I smiled politely and led Hannah to his desk. "Dr. Morgan, we were referred by Dr. Smith," I said as I took Hannah's medical file out of my bag. "This is Hannah's latest record. It should give you a clearer picture of her condition."

Noah's long fingers picked up the file. He didn't even look at me as he opened it and began reading carefully.

From this close distance, I observed him again. He looked far more mature than he had seven years ago-his hair was shorter, his features sharper. Even beneath the white coat, the muscles in his arms looked like those of a beast, ready to spring at any moment.

He had always been popular. Women were easily drawn to him. So it wasn't surprising that I meant nothing to him. I shook my head, forcing away the unnecessary disappointment. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Hannah's treatment.

After what felt like an eternity, Noah finally looked up from the file. His sharp gray eyes locked onto mine.

"Ms. Evans, based on Hannah's condition, we need to proceed with surgery as soon as possible," he said evenly. "Her heart is in a very critical state. Any further delay could make the condition harder to control and may affect her long-term health."