When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 86

Amelia

"This wouldn't have happened if your daughter hadn't been so difficult," a woman in her fifties wearing a Chanel suit and too much jewelry spat out. "All this stress can't be good for my son or my grandchild."

"Difficult?" the other woman retorted, her simple sweater and jeans a stark contrast. "You mean because she found out your precious son was cheating on her? Or because he didn't want the baby when he found out it was a girl?"

I froze in the hallway, not wanting to intrude but unable to walk away.

"My son made a mistake," the well-dressed woman said dismissively. "Men do that. She didn't have to threaten divorce in her condition."

"A mistake?" The other woman's voice rose dangerously. "He put my daughter in the hospital! She has brain damage because your son couldn't keep his hands to himself when she confronted him about his affair!"

A younger man in an expensive suit stepped forward, his face pale. "I didn't mean to push her that hard. She fell against the coffee table. I tried to catch her, but..."

"But you were too drunk to have decent reflexes," the modest woman finished coldly. "This isn't over. When my daughter wakes up - and she WILL wake up - we're getting her away from you. We don't have much, but we have enough to make sure you never hurt her again."

The wealthy woman laughed, a brittle sound that sent chills down my spine. "Good luck with that. My son's family has the best lawyers in Manhattan."

"Excuse me," Dr. Matthews, the department head, stepped in firmly. "This is a hospital. There are other patients and families here who deserve peace and respect during difficult times. I'm going to have to ask you all to lower your voices or move this discussion elsewhere."

I started to approach, feeling I should say something, when Rebecca grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

"Don't get involved," she whispered. "That's the Hartwell family. Old money, major donors to the hospital. That kind of domestic drama is beyond our pay grade."

Back in my break room, Rebecca handed me a cup of coffee and collapsed into a chair across from me.

"Jesus, what a mess," she sighed, running her hands through her short auburn hair. "That poor woman. Did you see the CT results? Subdural hematoma. And all because that rich asshole couldn't handle being called out for cheating."

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, trying to process what I'd witnessed. "I can't believe he admitted to pushing her. Just like that, in a hospital hallway."

"Rich people think they're untouchable," Rebecca shrugged. "And sadly, they often are. His mother probably already has the family lawyer working on a plea deal."

I stared into my coffee, thinking about the fragility of relationships. "Marriage is essentially a gamble, isn't it? You never really know what you're getting into, no matter how well you think you know someone."

Rebecca nodded grimly. "Tell me about it. I've seen too many cases like this. Women who thought they married Prince Charming only to end up with a monster."

"What are your absolute deal-breakers?" I asked suddenly. "In a relationship, I mean."

Rebecca didn't hesitate. "Physical abuse, emotional abuse, and cheating. The unholy trinity of 'get the fuck out now.'" She took a sip of her coffee. "What about you?"

I thought about my own failed marriage to Ethan. "The same, I guess. Though I'd add profound dishonesty to the list."

"Like lying about who you really are?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

"Exactly," I said, thinking about how Ethan had used our marriage as a cover for his investigation. "I can forgive a lot of things, but I can't be with someone who fundamentally misrepresented themselves."

Rebecca studied me for a moment. "You know, you talk about this stuff like you've lived it."

I felt a flush creep up my neck. "I've seen enough bad relationships to know what I don't want." I glanced at my watch. "I should get going. I need to check on our NICU admission before my shift ends."

I had just finished updating the new mother's chart and was heading to the restroom when Jenny, one of the senior nurses, intercepted me in the hallway.

"Dr. Thompson! Thank goodness," she said, her voice tinged with relief. "Could you possibly help with something?"

I suppressed a sigh. My shift was technically over, and I was exhausted after the emergency C-section. "What is it, Jenny?"

"Room 56 needs blood drawn for labs, but..." she lowered her voice, glancing around nervously. "It's that VIP patient, and honestly, I'm a little intimidated. Those bodyguards are intense, and Mr. Black... well, you know how he can be."

Ethan was still here? I was hoping I wouldn't have to see him again before he was discharged.

"I'm not sure I'm the right person for this," I said carefully. "Isn't Dr. Matthews handling his case?"

Jenny nodded. "Yes, but he's in surgery now, and these labs were ordered STAT. Please? The last nurse who went in there came out looking like she was going to cry."

I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the weight of professional obligation warring with personal reluctance. "I just finished a five-hour emergency surgery, Jenny. I'm exhausted."

"I know, and I'm so sorry to ask," she said, looking genuinely apologetic. "The last nurse who went in there came out looking like she was going to cry. He refused to let anyone but a doctor touch him, and frankly, you're the only one who doesn't seem affected by his... intensity."

Little did she know how affected I actually was. But I couldn't exactly explain that the intimidating VIP patient was my ex-husband and the father of my children.

"Fine," I relented with a sigh. "But I need to use the restroom first. Have the phlebotomy kit ready when I get back."

As Jenny hurried away, relief evident in her posture, I leaned against the wall for a moment, gathering my strength. Seeing Ethan again would be difficult enough under normal circumstances. Seeing him as a patient, vulnerable and possibly in pain, added layers of complexity I wasn't prepared to navigate.

But I was a doctor first. Personal feelings had to take a backseat to professional duty.

With a deep breath, I pushed myself off the wall and headed to the restroom, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable confrontation with the man I'd spent three years trying to forget.