Shattered Ring: The Secret Surgeon Returns
I stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test, hoping this tiny heartbeat would finally save my cold, three-year marriage to Kayson Logan.
But when he returned from his long business trip, he brought the sweet scent of another woman's perfume, a brutal assault, and a divorce agreement.
The financial settlement was entirely under the name of his first love, Alyce Murray.
He tossed a box of Plan B onto the table, staring at me with absolute disgust.
"Take it. If you try to get pregnant behind my back, you will walk away with nothing, and you will never see that child."
The next day, I saw him at the maternity clinic, carefully guarding a pregnant Alyce as if she were made of glass.
His family mocked me for being a barren, pathetic loser, cheering as I was kicked out of the house.
He didn't hate children. He just hated the idea of having one with me.
My three years of devotion were nothing but a joke. He even ordered his men to hunt down the legendary underground surgeon—my hidden alter ego—just to save Alyce's complicated pregnancy.
Why should I risk my life to save the woman who destroyed my marriage?
I spat out the pill he forced me to take and signed the divorce papers without a second thought.
I smashed the multi-million-dollar diamond ring he gave me right at his sister's feet.
"Keep the garbage bought by a man who sleeps with other women."
Then, I walked away, ready to embrace my true identity and protect my baby alone.
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Chapter 4
Charlie swiped her access card and walked through the turnstiles of the Logan Group headquarters in Midtown Manhattan.
The security guards, who usually greeted her with polite nods, suddenly found the floor very interesting. They avoided her eyes.
Charlie ignored them. She stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the 15th floor.
Just as the doors were closing, two women from the finance department squeezed in. They were glued to their phones, whispering furiously.
"Did you hear? The CEO's first love is in the building today," one of them muttered.
"I saw her," the other replied. "She's got a tiny baby bump. Mr. Logan is guarding her like she's made of glass."
Charlie stood in the back corner. She kept her eyes locked on her phone screen, but her grip on the device was so tight her knuckles ached.
The women kept talking.
"What about that plain-Jane wife of his in the marketing department? The one who tricked her way into the family?"
"What about her? I heard the divorce papers are already signed. She's getting kicked to the curb."
The elevator chimed. Floor 15.
Charlie stepped forward, her face a mask of absolute indifference, and walked right past the two women.
They gasped, slapping their hands over their mouths as the doors closed behind her.
Charlie walked onto the marketing floor. The usual hum of ringing phones and chatter died the second her heels clicked against the carpet.
She ignored the pitying and mocking stares burning into her back. She walked straight to the women's restroom at the end of the hall.
She pushed the door open, walked into the furthest stall, locked it, and leaned her head against the cool metal partition. She just needed five minutes of silence.
A moment later, the restroom door swung open. The sharp clack of stilettos echoed off the tiles.
Two women walked in. Charlie instantly recognized the voice of Trina Dempsey, her subordinate who had always been a thorn in her side.
"I can't believe she actually showed her face today," Trina sneered, the sound of a lipstick cap popping off following her words.
"Right?" her friend chimed in. "Now that Ms. Alyce is here, Charlie's title as the CEO's wife is a total joke."
Trina laughed, a high, grating sound. "She's a country bumpkin. If she hadn't gotten lucky and saved the old chairman's life, she wouldn't even be allowed to clean the toilets at Logan Group."
"Well, once she's gone, that Marketing Director spot is yours, Trina."
"Obviously," Trina said smugly. "I've already backed up all her client files to my personal drive. When she gets thrown out, she's leaving with nothing."
Inside the stall, Charlie's eyes snapped open.
The exhaustion vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal clarity.
She reached out and unlocked the stall.
She kicked the door open. It slammed against the dividing wall with a violent bang.
Trina and her friend jumped, shrieking as the lipstick tumbled from Trina's hand and clattered into the sink.
Charlie walked out slowly. Her posture was perfectly straight, her expression terrifyingly calm.
She walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and began washing her hands. She stared at Trina through the massive mirror above the vanity.
The water ran. Nobody breathed.
Charlie pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dried her hands meticulously, and finally turned around.
A chilling smile curved the corner of her mouth.
"Backing up my client files to your personal drive?" Charlie's voice was low, but it carried the weight of an executioner's blade. "Trina, that is corporate espionage."
All the blood drained from Trina's face. She stumbled backward, her mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.
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9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.
9.6
For five years, I was Barron Santana's elite bodyguard and loyal shadow. I stood between him and bullets, giving him my youth and my entire heart.
But last night, the CEO announced his engagement to a flawless socialite on national television.
Heartbroken, I got blackout drunk and ended up crashing on the couch of Cassidy Gross, a billionaire tech CEO who saved me from a bar creep.
When I showed up late to work, Barron locked me in his freezing office. He pinned me against the glass, smelling Cassidy's cologne on my clothes.
"Are you already looking for your next meal ticket?"
He snarled the words, treating me like a cheap whore. When I defended myself, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his fingers, acting as if my very touch contaminated him.
Then, he coldly ordered his assistant to draft my termination papers.
Five years of risking my life for him, thrown away like garbage just because of his twisted ego.
Devastated, I ran out and collapsed in the hallway, sobbing uncontrollably until a kind coworker gently pulled me into his arms to comfort me.
I didn't know Barron had followed me out.
Seeing me clinging to another man, his legendary control completely shattered, replaced by a dark, violent possessiveness.
But it was too late. I was done playing his obedient dog, and it was time to take Cassidy up on his offer.
9.1
Elise thought her life was finally falling into place. She turned down her father's company to work as executive assistant to Marcus Grey-the boy she's loved since childhood, now the powerful CEO she's devoted her life to.
But when Marcus proposes to another woman, Elise's world crumbles. Enter Sebastian Deluca-Marcus's tattooed, ruthless, long-estranged brother. He's everything Marcus isn't: dangerous, magnetic, and determined to take back his place in New York.
But, there's something odd about him.
Something changed since he arrived.
Bound by family secrets and a mutual desire to expose Marcus's fiancée, Elise and Sebastian form an uneasy alliance. But as sparks ignite between them, Elise must choose: remain loyal to the boy she thought she loved, or risk everything for the man who sees her as more than a shadow.
Some loves are safe. Others are consuming. Which one will she survive?
7.4
Bailey, an invisible shadow to the powerful Douglas family, stood in the freezing rain, watching City Hall. For five long years, she’d been used to being forgotten. But today, her entire world shattered as her fiancé, Jameson, walked out with another woman, Haleigh, holding their fresh marriage certificates.
Jameson scooped Haleigh into his arms, treating her like fragile glass, convinced she’d saved him from a burning car five years ago. He never knew it was Bailey who pulled him from the flames, nor that Haleigh's "sickness" had left Bailey with an ugly scar from donating bone marrow, making her a mere family blood bank.
Watching them kiss, pure nausea rose from years of blame. Bailey later found a joyous celebration for Haleigh at the manor. Her wet arrival drew only cold annoyance; Jameson gave pitying instructions before all four men rushed to Haleigh’s side when she faked a cough.
Haleigh, with a sweet smile, presented Bailey a "gift"—a velvet box. Forced to open it, a venomous Brown Recluse spider dropped onto Bailey's hand, sinking its fangs deep. As white-hot agony exploded and her vision blurred, Haleigh theatrically screamed, deliberately scraping her forehead.
The men, blind with panic for Haleigh’s minor scratch, roared at Bailey, shoved her to the floor, and rushed Haleigh to the car. Left to die alone, struggling for breath as her body shut down, Bailey knew this was the end of playing their disgusting game. She had already activated her hidden trust fund, planning to buy a remote island and disappear forever.
8.5
Cecile jolted awake from months of prescription haze, only to realize she was trapped in a live reality show designed to destroy her.
Her billionaire husband had orchestrated the broadcast to publicly humiliate her and elevate his own PR image. He ordered her to follow a degrading script. What was worse, her five-year-old son, Damien, was genuinely terrified of her. When an empty wine bottle rolled across the floor, the tiny boy instantly threw his arms over his head, bracing for a hit.
The production crew shoved microphones into the trembling child's face, trying to trigger his trauma for ratings. The live chat cursed Cecile as a toxic abuser. The show's golden girl maliciously tried to poach Damien on camera to prove Cecile was an unfit mother. The crew even rigged the game, forcing Cecile and her son into a freezing, rotting mud shack with a collapsed roof. They were all just waiting for her to break down and beg.
"A toxic woman like you doesn't deserve to be a mother."
The crew read the hateful comments aloud, expecting a hysterical meltdown. The realization that she had been manipulated into destroying her own child hit Cecile like a physical blow. How could a father subject his own son to this public cruelty?
The weak, easily manipulated Cecile was dead. She threw the PR script away, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a rusted hammer. This time, she would protect her son and tear down anyone who stood in her way.
9.4
My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage.
Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer.
An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss.
They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them?
The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind?
I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."