The CEO's Regret: Chasing My Runaway Doctor

The automated glass doors of JFK's international terminal hissed shut behind Vivian, sealing out the freezing New York wind.

She walked directly to the nearest trash can and dropped her old smartphone into it.

It was a clean break, a final, brutal severing of the last digital thread connecting her to New York and the man who had broken her.

......

Four years later.

Vivian was no longer a silent, invisible woman waiting in the cold shadows of a loveless marriage. She was the most sought-after special consultant at the Hôpital de la Tour in Geneva, a brilliant, untouchable surgeon whose name could make billionaires hastily change their flight plans and arrogant hospital boards swallow their pride.

Her contract was absurdly simple and fiercely protected.

Unless a patient was actively dying on her operating table, she left by three in the afternoon.

No wealthy donor, no corrupt politician, no hospital director with sweaty palms could force her to stay a minute longer.

Her hands were simply that valuable. Her surgical outcomes were that impeccably clean. She had earned the absolute right to say no.

At 2:57 p.m., Vivian signed off on her last medical chart, changed into her tailored khaki trench coat, and picked up her designer bag.

The faded ultrasound photo was gone, replaced by a bright phone wallpaper of two blond boys with identical, wicked smiles.

Mason and Miles.

As she looked at their faces, so achingly, terrifyingly similar to the man she had erased from her life, a rare, genuine warmth softened her usually stoic expression.

They were her entire world. The only good things to ever come out of the Carlisle bloodline.

At three sharp, she walked out of the double doors. No one stopped her. No one dared.

At that exact moment, three armored black Maybachs screeched to a halt outside the hospital's VIP entrance, tires smoking slightly.

A heavily armed bodyguard leaped out to open the lead car's door.

Sterling IV emerged, his expensive black trench coat whipping violently in the alpine wind.

He radiated an aura of raw, terrifying power and dark impatience that made passing staff instinctively step aside and lower their eyes.

He supported a pale, fragile-looking Kara, who hid her face behind oversized designer sunglasses.

Behind them followed his head of security, Owen, his face an emotionless, lethal mask.

Kara leaned heavily into Sterling, intentionally and shamelessly pressing her surgically enhanced breasts against his muscular arm. Her grip on his sleeve was sharp, desperate, and deeply possessive.

"Sterling," she whined, making sure every terrified administrator in the lobby heard her pathetic, trembling voice. "What if even that famous doctor cannot help me? Will you abandon me?"

Sterling's expression remained perfectly stoic, a mask of cold marble, but he patted her hand mechanically. "If she cannot help you, then she is a fraud. And if she refuses to try, I will make sure she has no medical career left to protect anywhere in the world."

Kara lowered her fake lashes, a vicious, ugly satisfaction hiding behind her fragile, sickly facade. "I knew you still loved me."

The hospital director, Dr. Coleman, scurried out to greet them, a flock of sweating administrators trailing in his wake like frightened ducklings.

"Arrange for your best surgeon. Now," Sterling commanded, his voice crisp, cold, and carrying the weight of a king.

Dr. Coleman wiped a sheen of cold sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "Of course, Mr. Carlisle. Our very best, Dr. Vivian. She has just finished her day. I will get her immediately. Please, wait in the VIP suite."

The name made Sterling pause for a fraction of a second.

Vivian. The exact same name as the wife who had vanished without a single trace four years ago.

Then he instantly dismissed it. His Vivian had been a weak, quiet, submissive woman who lived entirely on his schedule and his money. She could not possibly have become a world-renowned surgeon who frightened hospital directors.

It was the same name, nothing more.

Upstairs, Vivian was already in her Volvo SUV, driving smoothly away from the hospital grounds.

Her day was done. Her sons were waiting.

Her secondary work phone buzzed violently in her pocket. The screen flashed with Dr. Coleman's private emergency line.

She sighed, annoyed, and answered.

"Dr. Vivian," the director's voice was breathless, bordering on hysterical. "I need you to return to the hospital. Immediately. We have a top-tier benefactor from New York. A billionaire."

The words New York made the muscles in her neck tighten painfully.

She forced them to relax, gripping the steering wheel.

"I am sorry, Director," she said, her tone cool and unyielding. "My shift is over. No benefactor, no matter how much money they have, comes before I pick up my sons."

"But you do not understand!" Coleman hissed, his voice dropping to a panicked, desperate whisper. "It is Sterling Carlisle. Of the Carlisle Group. We absolutely cannot afford to offend him. He will ruin us!"

The name hit her like a lightning strike. For a single, terrifying second, she could not breathe.

The world spun. The carefully constructed, steel walls around her past threatened to crumble into dust.

Then, the ice returned to her veins, thicker and colder than ever before. A humorless, dark smile twisted her lips.

"I do not care if he is the King of England," she said into the phone, her voice carrying the sharp, deadly edge of a razor. "Tell Mr. Carlisle to follow hospital protocol, make an appointment for tomorrow like everyone else."

She ended the call before he could utter another word of protest and powered the phone off completely, tossing it onto the passenger seat.

Let him wait. Let the great Sterling Carlisle burn with frustration.

Down in the director's opulent office, Dr. Coleman stared at his dead phone, his face ashen, looking as if he were about to faint.

He turned to Sterling, stammering uncontrollably. "Mr. Carlisle. It... it seems Dr. Vivian has refused."

Sterling's brow furrowed. The temperature in the room plummeted to freezing.

Kara whimpered, clutching his arm tighter.

"She refused you?" Kara sneered, instantly dropping her sweet, sick act for a moment, her true venom showing. "What kind of arrogant bitch abandons a dying patient? She just wants to extort more money from you, Ster. Fire her!"

Sterling's anger sharpened, a dark storm brewing in his gray eyes. He had tolerated arrogance from royalty and heads of state, but never from a mere employee.

"Do not worry," he said to Kara, his voice low and deadly calm. "If she will not come willingly, she will learn very quickly that my patience has limits."

His dark, dangerous gaze drifted toward the bank of elevators. A flicker of cold fury, mixed with a strange, grudging intrigue, sparked in his eyes.

This untouchable, arrogant doctor had just done what no one in his world ever dared to do. She had looked his power in the face and told him no.

He turned his head slightly, his voice a low growl directed at Owen. "Find out exactly who this Dr. Vivian is. I want her entire life, her secrets, and her weaknesses laid bare on my desk by tonight."