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Taming The Sinner: The Doctor’s Cold Game Novel Cover

Taming The Sinner: The Doctor’s Cold Game

I stood before the double doors of the master suite, my hand hovering inches from the polished brass. As a surgeon, I was trained to steady my heart before a cut, but the silence in the Alexander estate felt like the heavy, oppressive pause that always preceded a scream. I pushed the mahogany door open to find my fiancé, Authur, tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets with a woman named Jasmine. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and a floral perfume that wasn't mine—a brutal reality check just twenty-four hours before the merger meant to save my family from total ruin. Authur didn't look guilty; he looked amused, coldly telling me to close the door because I was letting in a draft. When his parents unexpectedly arrived, I was forced to hide his mistress and pretend our "intensity" had ruined the room, donning his discarded shirt to look disheveled just to protect the Lawrence family stock price. The humiliation only deepened on our wedding morning when Authur issued a sadistic ultimatum over the phone. "Wear your scrubs to the altar—the ones covered in blood—or I'll watch your father's company go belly up by lunch." He wanted to turn our wedding at St. Patrick’s Cathedral into a public execution of my dignity. I walked down the aisle in shapeless navy cotton and crimson stains, enduring the horrified gasps of the elite who labeled me an "insane gold digger." Authur stood at the altar, reeking of whiskey and malice, certain he had finally broken me and turned my professional oath into a circus act. But as the priest began the vows, I looked at the man who thought he owned me and realized I wasn't his victim—I was his surgeon. I had the footage of his debauchery ready to play for the world, and as we shared a punishing, hateful kiss for the cameras, I knew the real war had only just begun.
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Chapter 6

"I apologize for my appearance," Helena said. Her voice was amplified, clear and calm, cutting through the murmurs.

She touched the red stain on her chest.

"On my way here, my car was diverted down a service alley due to a procession. There was a gas explosion in a restaurant kitchen. A young prep cook was trapped under debris. The paramedics were blocked by the traffic."

It was a lie. A complete fabrication. But she delivered it with the conviction of a saint.

"I am a doctor first, and a bride second," she continued, her voice trembling just enough to sound emotional. "I couldn't drive past. I couldn't leave her bleeding. This..." She gestured to the simulated blood. "This is a badge of life, not a mark of shame."

The silence in the church shifted. It changed from judgmental to awed.

"My husband," she turned to Authur, her eyes wet with fake tears, "understands my oath. He encouraged me to come as I am. Because the Alexander family values life above appearance."

She handed the microphone back to the priest.

A woman in the third row started clapping. Then another. Soon, the entire church was applauding. "She's a hero," someone whispered.

Authur stood there, jaw slightly open. He had been outmaneuvered. If he denied it now, he would look like a monster. He had to play along.

"Yes," Authur gritted out, forcing a smile that looked painful. "She's... an angel."

"The rings," the priest urged.

Authur grabbed Helena's hand. He shoved the diamond band onto her finger roughly. It pinched her skin. "You are a liar," he whispered.

"I learned from the best," she whispered back.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Just as Authur leaned in, the massive projection screen behind the altar-meant to display a slideshow of their childhood photos-flickered.

The image changed.

It wasn't a baby photo. It was a video. Grainy, shaky, cell phone footage.

It showed Authur. He was on a table, surrounded by strippers. He was holding a bottle of champagne, pouring it into a girl's mouth.

"To hell with marriage!" Video-Authur screamed. "This is my last night of freedom! I'm going to make that boring little doctor's life a living hell!"

The crowd gasped. The applause died instantly.

Authur spun around. "Turn it off! Cut the feed!"

The video looped. Authur grinding on a woman. Authur mocking Helena's name.

Helena watched the screen. She had acquired the footage weeks ago, a little gift from one of Authur's discarded conquests, and had sent it to a trusted tech friend to be embedded in the wedding slideshow file, timed to replace a photo of his childhood pony. She had sent the video to the projectionist ten minutes ago. It was her insurance policy. If he humiliated her, she would burn him down.

She covered her mouth with her hand, feigning shock. She let a single tear roll down her cheek.

Grandfather Alexander clutched his chest, swaying. Charles caught him.

Reporters were already typing headlines: The Saint and The Sinner.

Authur turned back to Helena. His eyes were murderous. He knew. He knew she did this.

"You..." he started.

Helena looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Authur grabbed the back of her head. He pulled her in. He didn't kiss her gently. He crushed his mouth against hers, hard, punishing. It was a kiss meant to silence her, to hide his rage from the cameras.

His teeth grazed her lip. He tasted of mint and rage.

Flashbulbs exploded. To the world, it was a passionate embrace. To Helena, it was a declaration of war.

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