No Longer His Captive Surgeon Wife

Chapter 4

Word Count: 665 | Released on: 30/04/2026

lway was shattered by the sou

here!" a deep, panicked

row furrowing in confusion. She

od of death, his face a mask of terrifying, murderous

y holding the boy. His pupils

conds, bringing a rush of co

bed the boy's arm. He yanked the child out of

rror. He kicked his legs wildly in t

r maternal instinct flaring. She reac

e brought his free hand up an

heels skidding on the polished floor. Her back hit the cold stone pillar hard e

hind his legs, shielding

to Kevin?" Beckham roared, his voic

pped br

frozen against the pillar, her eyes darting frantically betw

he boy's age. Five years old. The exact same ye

realization clawed

mira had bought. The product of

wave of profound disgust and betrayal washed over her. She felt physically

shed herself off the pillar, her

ve years ago while I was bleeding out?" sh

The panic in his eyes instantly

osing her mind out o

Beckham snarled, stepping closer to her, his c

reached his small hands out from behind Beckh

ng shredded by broken glass. But she forced her jaw to lock. She turned

hed back and clamped his large hand ove

ped forward, forming a solid wall of mu

crying boy into his arms. He sh

of his shoes grew fainter and fainter unti

tood

d down the cold marble pil

her legs, and buried her face. Her shoulders shook violentl

Chapter End

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No Longer His Captive Surgeon Wife

Zhen Xiang Modern

“I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire. One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery. When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community. Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son-bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby. The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir. I slapped her across the face. The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital. She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium. My husband cornered me in the interrogation room. "Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear." I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion. He actually believed I was a jealous murderer. I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them. Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang. The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest. Only I had the surgical skill to save her. I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.”