The True Heiress Leaves The Billionaire

The harsh, blinding fluorescent lights of the emergency room burned through Calista's eyelids.

The sharp smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol filled her nose.

Finn Sandoval had bypassed the waiting room entirely. He pushed her directly into a private trauma bay.

He snapped on a pair of sterile blue gloves. He grabbed a bottle of saline and began washing the thick, matted blood out of her hair.

The wound on the back of her head was deep. The edges of the skin were jagged.

"You're going to feel a pinch," Finn said. His voice was incredibly calm and steady.

He pushed the needle of local anesthetic into her scalp.

Calista gasped. The sharp, burning pain shot through her skull. Her body jerked upward. Her hand shot out blindly and grabbed Finn's forearm.

Finn stopped the injection. He turned his hand over and wrapped his warm, steady fingers around her freezing ones. He held her hand tightly until her breathing slowed down.

It took twenty minutes of meticulous work. Finn tied off the final stitch and taped a thick white gauze pad over the wound.

Before helping her up, Finn pulled her phone from her clutch. "I'm calling your emergency contact," he stated firmly, unlocking the screen with her guided touch. He quickly dialed the first name on her list, Zara, giving her the hospital details.

He gently gripped her shoulders and helped her sit up on the edge of the bed. He handed her a paper cup of warm water.

Calista's lips were completely white. She took a small sip.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice raspy.

Heavy, aggressive footsteps pounded against the linoleum floor outside the frosted glass door.

Finn opened the door to help her walk toward the CT scan room.

At the far end of the hallway, Jett Holder was walking fast. He had just settled Kassandra into a luxury VIP suite upstairs. He was holding a plastic ice pack in his hand.

Jett looked up.

His eyes locked onto the green dress. Then, his eyes locked onto the man holding her.

Calista was leaning heavily against Finn's chest. Finn's arm was wrapped securely around her waist. He was looking down at her, speaking softly.

A violent, blinding wave of possessive rage slammed into Jett's chest.

He threw the ice pack violently into a nearby trash can. He charged down the hallway.

Jett reached them in seconds. He reached out and grabbed Calista's upper arm, yanking her backward with brutal force.

Calista screamed. The sudden jerk ripped at the fresh stitches in her scalp. White-hot pain exploded in her head.

Finn's eyes turned lethal. He stepped forward and reached for Calista.

Jett slammed his palm flat against Finn's chest, shoving the doctor backward.

"Who the hell do you think you are, touching my wife?" Jett roared. His voice shook the windows of the ER.

Finn caught his balance. He didn't back down an inch. He stared right into the eyes of the billionaire.

"I'm Dr. Finn Sandoval," Finn said coldly. "And as a husband, you're doing a pathetic job. She has a severe head trauma, and you're screaming at her."

Jett's eyes snapped down.

For the first time, he saw the thick white bandage on the back of her head. He saw the massive, dark bloodstain covering the back of her green dress.

His pupils contracted. A sharp, painful squeeze gripped his heart.

But his massive ego and his blind faith in Kassandra instantly crushed the guilt.

Jett's jaw tightened. He let out a dark, cruel laugh.

"She got exactly what she deserved for what she did tonight," Jett sneered. "I don't need an outsider playing hero."

Jett pointed a finger right at Finn's face. "Stay away from my wife, or the next research grant your hospital applies for will mysteriously vanish. And so will your supply chain for imported surgical equipment."

Jett wrapped his arm around Calista's waist. His grip was like an iron vice. He ignored her gasp of pain and dragged her down the hall, shoving her into an empty private hospital room.