The Surgeon's Cold, Calculated Resolve

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re. This time, a crisp, official-looking letter lay on my bedside table. My termination notice.

my career, the last vestige of my old life, was gone. What else was left to take? Clark hadn't visited. Not once.

pectations. I walked home, my footsteps echoing in the empty hall

e, cold and firm, carried from the living room. "I'm

thing, gave a small, painful

rious. "She tried to ruin me

nothing but trouble. She's damaged goods. Her hands are useless. And after that... incident... at the cemetery. The rum

. Useless. Unfit. The words, flu

wife." A tearing sound. "There. The papers. Shredded. And don't worry about children, Mother. I've bee

ys wanted children. Always. And he... he had

" Clark continued, his voice chillingly c

husband, my captor, my tormentor, was not just abusive, he was utterly depraved. His

I stumbled out of the house, my phone clutche

you to sell all my shares in Clark's company. Liquidate everythin

re? That's a significa

"And the divorce. You said it was in the fi

, it might get complicated, Dr. Frank. A cont

need to be out of this country in ten days. Do

oor of the mansion burst open. Clark stood ther

Addison?" he demanded,

nstairs. Clark's gaze flickered, a momentary distraction. He opened the d

her... her chest pain... it's getting worse!" Sh

at me, his eyes cold. "It's your fault, Addison. All of it

ly there was some rare herb, some ancient remedy to ease her pain. I heard about the 'Moonpetal Orchid' in the distant mountai

rd her, Addison. You owe her. This is your penance. Go. F