The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire

A dozen men in black suits swarmed the emergency department.

August's private security team moved like a military unit. They violently yanked the privacy curtains shut across every glass window, blocking out the waiting room.

A massive bodyguard stepped directly into Elisa's path. He reached out to snatch the triage clipboard from her hands.

Elisa took a swift step back.

The bodyguard scowled and unclipped the heavy baton from his belt. Behind the counter, the head nurse let out a squeak and ducked out of sight.

Elisa didn't blink. She stared dead into the bodyguard's eyes.

"Under the New York State HIPAA laws, touching this medical record is a federal offense," Elisa said, her voice sharp as glass. "Try it."

The trauma room doors swung open. August stepped out. He waved the bodyguard away and marched toward Elisa. His eyes were dark and stormy.

The hospital director sprinted down the hallway, sweating profusely in his tailored suit. He bowed his head to August before turning a frantic glare on Elisa.

"Give me the chart, Elisa. Now," the director ordered.

Elisa didn't fight him. She let her fingers slip from the plastic board. She watched the director hand it over like a loyal dog.

August reached into his suit jacket. He pulled out a leather-bound checkbook and a gold fountain pen. He scribbled a number so fast the pen scratched the paper.

He slammed the check down on the nurse's station counter.

"One hundred thousand dollars," August said, his voice a low, dangerous threat. "Keep your mouth shut."

The check slid off the slick surface and fluttered to the linoleum floor. Elisa looked down at the paper. A bitter, mocking smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

The double doors opened again. Paramedics wheeled Allena out on a transport bed. Her face was pale, but her eyes fluttered open.

Allena's gaze cut through the crowd and locked perfectly onto Elisa. A weak, highly intentional smirk formed on Allena's lips.

Bile rose in the back of Elisa's throat. She looked at Allena the same way she looked at a bag of medical waste.

August immediately turned his back to Elisa. He leaned over the transport bed, his large hand gently cupping Allena's cheek, blocking Elisa's view completely.

The paramedics pushed the bed toward the VIP exit. August walked right beside it.

Right before he pushed through the exit doors, August threw one last warning glare over his shoulder at Elisa. Then, he was gone.

The roar of the helicopter engines faded into the night. The ER was suffocatingly quiet. The director wiped his sweaty forehead and scurried away.

Claire, a young nurse, popped up beside Elisa. Her eyes were wide with excitement.

"Oh my god," Claire whispered. "Who was that? That girl must be his absolute soulmate. They must have been going at it so hard to end up here."

Elisa bent down. She picked up the hundred-thousand-dollar check, crumpling it into a tight ball in her fist.

She turned to Claire. She lowered her voice, adopting a deeply serious, clinical tone.

"I saw his chart," Elisa lied smoothly. "The man suffers from severe, organic erectile dysfunction."

Claire gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

"The injuries," Elisa continued, her face completely deadpan, "were caused by illegal, oversized mechanical toys. He can't perform naturally."

Claire's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. The romantic illusion shattered instantly, replaced by pure disgust. "Ew. Gross."

Elisa patted Claire's shoulder. "Patient confidentiality, Claire. Don't tell a soul."

She knew Claire. Claire couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it. By tomorrow morning, the rumor of August Chambers' impotence would be the absolute hottest topic of gossip circulating through every breakroom and nurse's station in this entire hospital.

Elisa walked into the breakroom. She shoved the crumpled check into the heavy-duty paper shredder.

The machine whirred loudly, chewing the paper into tiny, worthless strips.

She stripped off her scrubs, pulled on her tan trench coat, and pushed through the hospital doors. The freezing New York wind hit her face, and for the first time in seven years, she felt like she could breathe.