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He Saved His Mistress, Not His Wife

Chapter 6 

Word Count: 938    |    Released on: 26/12/2025

he chemical bite of bleach and th

e in trauma centers just like this one, stitching up bodi

, I wasn't

the

g on an operating table with a col

he counter. My leg throbbed inside its fiberglass cast-a dull, r

?" the nurse as

chest, her eyes darting nervousl

und. I knew exactly what-

was

kerchief. A small, pristine bandage covered a cut on her forehead. It was

e save him! He swerved t

the station exchan

tress?" one murm

at the wife. She is just sta

nd took the pen

didn't

e thoracotomy?" I asked, my

open him up to stop th

t the sign

t sign, he

uld be a widow.

eductive and dark, offering a release

ng her grief like it was the final aria i

he tragic love of his life. Th

ive her that

pen to the pap

Viti

Cava

, shoving the clipboard b

waiting room, ignoring the murmurs. I sat as

zing hours

t like a contented cat. I didn't sleep. I watched the

double door

announced, looking exhausted

om the loveseat

" she c

d the doors withou

. I followed, my pace

fia was already staged. She was draped over

ets. Tubes snaked from his arms, and a ventilato

en-groggy, unfoc

ing to clear th

d around

. I was standing at the foot

dn't

t the woman weep

ounded like broken glass grindi

" Sofia sobbed, clutch

ispered, closing h

tom pain twis

He hadn't asked about me. He hadn't asked

on his mist

ed me. A cold

ped open. He fina

the relief vanis

"Good. The paperwork would have

brow furrowing in

ll you hav

a fruit basket the hospital had provided for VIP

with my chin. "She is fine. Your bond must be

ned. His voice was weak, but

y, Sofi

from her fingers

scre

hriek that made the heart

ring at her arm. "I can't fe

limp hand, shaki

p, triggering a casc

! What

iled, terror distorting h

f his finger. He clawed at the IV

he nurses rushing into the

't look

wn life support apar

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He Saved His Mistress, Not His Wife
He Saved His Mistress, Not His Wife
“I was trapped under a massive oak bookcase, my leg shattered, dust filling my lungs. My husband, Dante, the Underboss of the Chicago Outfit, finally found me. But just as he lifted the heavy beam to free me, his earpiece crackled. It was news about Sofia, his childhood friend and the woman he truly loved. "She scratched her arm on the car door, Boss. She's hyperventilating. She won't board the jet without you." Dante froze. He looked at me, bleeding on the floor, secretly ten weeks pregnant with his child. Then he looked at the door. "It's just a broken leg, Elena," he said coldly, slowly lowering the crushing weight back onto me. "You are a doctor. You know it's not fatal. Sofia needs me." He ran to comfort a woman with a papercut, leaving his wife and unborn child to be buried alive in the rubble. I miscarried alone in the dark, tracing the number of a divorce lawyer on the floorboards in my own blood. Three days later, while he was peeling grapes for Sofia in a VIP hospital suite, I packed my medical degree and a single gym bag. I didn't go to a hotel. I boarded a military cargo plane to a war zone in South Sudan. By the time the Ice Prince realized his castle was empty, I was already thousands of miles away, and I wasn't coming back.”
1 Chapter 12 Chapter 23 Chapter 34 Chapter 45 Chapter 56 Chapter 67 Chapter 78 Chapter 89 Chapter 910 Chapter 1011 Chapter 1112 Chapter 1213 Chapter 1314 Chapter 1415 Chapter 1516 Chapter 1617 Chapter 1718 Chapter 1819 Chapter 19