No Longer His Captive Surgeon Wife

Chapter 7

Word Count: 707 | Released on: 30/04/2026

her blood boiling, her heart hammering against her ribs

The high-tech security lock on

A blast of freezing New York ni

private nurses, wearing a custom silk ho

foyer, directly beneath th

d collar, her flushed cheeks, and her swollen lower lip. A

a smoothed her face into a sicken

ng in the high-ceilinged room. "Did Bec

ave of absolute disgust. She stepped to

One of them immediately stepped side

k a step closer to Amy. She lowered her v

ph. "After all, not every woman is capable of bearing an heir for the Graham family

ords hit her brain like a physical club. A l

sides. Her perfectly manicured nails dug

sea rising in her stomach. She stared at Amira's mov

into a cruel sneer. "It must be hard for you. Knowing you're just a b

ok in her eyes vanished, replaced by a s

warning, Amy rais

d a crisp, resounding slap across Amira's cheek. It wasn't a heavy blow, mi

the cavernous lobby. Amira's hea

mbled backward, clutching her rapidly swelli

sped and lunged f

ed, her voice radiating such dark, commanding

he lapels of Amira's expensive sil

smile stretched

ith venom. "I'm not signing those divorce papers. I am going to sit on

until her lips were in

ey cut your chest open... I am the one ho

dulterated terror filled her eyes. She began

a look of utter disgust, like she was throwing aw

cterial wipe, and slowly cleaned her hands. Sh

the heavy brass door, and walked out into the

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.”