My Fiance's Deadly Betrayal

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, his face etched with worry. "Deacon, what in God's name are you doing? The patient from the bridge

"Dr. Lee, I already told Brenda. I' m unavailable. Dr. Sharma is fully capable

"She's a resident! This isn't a training case, De

up, his eyes cold. "I assessed her at the scene. She just needs

s pulverized! She has a massive epidural hematoma! She's had multiple car

dramatic. She'll be fine. A little rest, and she'll be back to herself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important famil

is mouth as if to argue, then closed it, his shoulders slumping. He turned a

no longer beat, felt a phantom ache, a searing pain unlike any physical wound. The

t, over the frantic pleas of an experienced trauma surgeon.

s, or the convenience. But he never saw me. Not truly. And in that moment, floating above his cold, indifferent face, I d

to handle crucial hospital business, delegating everything else. On the third night, after Kimberlee had finally drifted off to sleep, a

cern for me, or guilt over his actions. It was annoyance. Annoyance that I hadn't

im to decide he was ready to acknowledge me again. He expected me to apologize for being "dramatic," for getting in the way of his preci

ing that game any

ere. He pulled it out, then frowned. It was cracked, the screen dark, unresponsive. He must have damaged it when he threw it in his ra

rabbed his personal cell phone, scrolling through his contacts, his t

assistant. "Has Clarissa cal

rom St. Jude's has reported on her condition either. I tried to

s. Annoyance? Unease? A phantom chill ran down his spine, a

ste bin. He grabbed his office phone, punched in a number. "Brenda, use your personal phone. Send a message to Claris

, a hollow, bitter sound. He was still trying to control me, e

profound weariness settling over my

him back. Not no