When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 167

Amelia

I walked alongside Rachel through the hospital's front entrance, both of us clutching our morning coffees like lifelines.

"So how's domestic bliss with Mr. Wall Street?" Rachel nudged my shoulder playfully.

I was about to answer when I noticed something odd. People were staring—not just one or two, but nearly everyone in the reception area. Patients sitting in the waiting area glanced up from their phones, whispering to each other. Even some of the nursing staff were shooting furtive looks in our direction.

"Did I forget to put on pants today?" I muttered, instinctively checking my outfit. My navy pencil skirt and white blouse were perfectly professional. I caught my reflection in a glass door and quickly examined my face. Had Ethan left some embarrassing mark on my neck last night? Nothing visible.

"What the hell is going on?" Rachel whispered, noticing the attention too.

As we approached the nurses' station, Jenny, our head nurse, waved us over urgently. Her expression was a mixture of concern and something that looked alarmingly like pity.

"Amelia, honey, you might want to check your phone," she said quietly, sliding her own smartphone across the counter. "It's trending."

I looked down at the screen and felt my stomach drop. There I was, my name in bold letters across a gossip site headline: "BLACK WIFE: FROM SCRUBS TO RICHES? The Sordid Past of Amelia Thompson."

"What the fuck?" I muttered, scrolling down. The article was a masterpiece of innuendo and outright lies—claims about my "promiscuous past," accusations that I'd had children out of wedlock to "trap" a wealthy man, suggestions that I was using my position as a doctor to network with wealthy patients.

The comments section was even worse, with strangers dissecting every aspect of my life they could find online.

"This is bullshit," Rachel hissed, reading over my shoulder. One call to James, and we can get this hot search taken down—"

"No," I said, handing the phone back to Jenny. My voice was surprisingly steady. "I'm not giving this garbage the dignity of a response."

Jenny squeezed my hand. "The entire nursing staff knows it's trash, Dr. Thompson. We've got your back."

"Thanks, Jenny," I smiled, appreciating the support. "But really, I'm fine. This kind of pathetic attack means nothing to me."

Rachel looked skeptical. "You sure? I can call James—he can make this disappear in five minutes flat."

"I'm sure," I replied, heading toward the locker room. "If I pull it now, it'll just make me look guilty."

The truth was, I knew exactly who was behind this. Emily, my father's precious princess, had always been threatened by me. This reeked of her jealous scheming. But I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.

---

Three hours into my shift, I was examining a pregnant woman in her forties. Her teenage daughter sat in the corner of the exam room, eyes glued to her phone, the very picture of adolescent disinterest.

"Your baby is developing beautifully," I said, pointing to the ultrasound screen. "See this? That's the heart—beating nice and strong."

She beamed, but her daughter barely looked up.

"At twenty-eight weeks, the baby can hear voices," I continued, trying to include the girl. "Talking to your future sibling now can help form a bond before birth."

The teenager finally glanced up, but not at the ultrasound. She was staring at me with sudden recognition.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "You're her! You're Dr. Thompson—the one who married Ethan Black!"

Her mother looked embarrassed. "Lily, that's inappropriate—"

"Can I get a selfie?" The girl was already standing, phone in hand. "My friends will die. How did you do it? How did you land someone like Mr. Black? Do you have tips?"

I blinked, momentarily speechless. This was a new level of unprofessionalism I hadn't prepared for.

"I'm afraid I don't take selfies during medical examinations," I said firmly. "And the best tip I can offer is to focus on your mother right now. She's doing something incredible, bringing new life into the world. That deserves your attention far more than gossip about my personal life."

The girl looked chastened, and her mother shot me a grateful look as I finished the examination.

---

Just before lunch, Rachel burst into my office without knocking, her face flushed with excitement.

"You're going to need tissues," she announced, thrusting her phone at me. "Like, a whole box."

"What now?" I sighed, expecting more online drama.

"Just watch," she insisted, pressing play on a video.

It was a CNBC interview. The financial news ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen, but my attention was immediately captured by Ethan sitting across from the interviewer. He looked impeccable in a charcoal suit, his posture commanding, his expression serious.

"Mr. Black, before we discuss the Asian markets, there's been some personal news circulating about your wife, Dr. Amelia Thompson," the interviewer said. "Would you care to comment?"

My breath caught. What was Ethan going to say?

His blue eyes hardened. "Actually, I would." His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of steel that I recognized—the tone he used when someone had crossed a line. "The rumors are entirely false. My wife is a dedicated physician who has earned every achievement through her own merit and hard work."

The interviewer seemed surprised by his willingness to address the topic. "Some sources suggest that she's interested in the Black family fortune—"

Ethan cut him off. "Let me be perfectly clear. Amelia didn't marry into wealth—I married into character. She didn't pursue me; in fact, our separation was her decision because I failed to be the husband she deserved."

My heart pounded as he continued.

"Anyone spreading these malicious rumors should be prepared for legal consequences. Black Investment Group doesn't take kindly to defamation of our family members, and we have considerable resources to pursue those responsible."

His gaze seemed to burn through the screen, directly into the camera. "And to address the most important point—Amelia, if you're watching this: Three years ago, I let you walk away. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I won't make that mistake again. I love you. I've always loved you. And I will spend every day proving that to you, if you'll let me."

The tears Rachel had predicted were already streaming down my face.

"I think he just proposed on national television," Rachel whispered, grinning.

I grabbed a tissue, wiping my eyes. "Rachel, I need you to cover my patients for the afternoon."

I pulled off my white coat, grabbed my purse, and slipped on my sunglasses.

"Where are you going?" Rachel called after me.

I turned back, a determined smile on my face. "Wall Street. I have a husband to find."

As I hurried toward the elevator, I felt lighter than I had in years. The gossip, the stares, Emily's pathetic attempts to hurt me—none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to Ethan as quickly as possible.