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Thirty Days To Marry: The Doctor's Escape Novel Cover

Thirty Days To Marry: The Doctor's Escape

I was Ethan Dejesus’s "glorified roommate" for eight long years. Even though I was a successful doctor, I lived in the guest room of his luxury penthouse and spent my mornings making his coffee like a servant while waiting for a ring that was never coming. The breaking point came when Ethan forced me to give his mistress, Delisa, a medical exam in the VIP wing of my own hospital. He didn't just want to break my heart; he wanted to destroy my professional dignity in front of the woman he was cheating with. During a paparazzi swarm at his estate, a heavy camera lens hit me in the temple, leaving me bleeding on the floor. Ethan didn't even flinch. He stepped over my body to protect Delisa, making sure he looked like a hero for the cameras while I struggled to stand. That night, I overheard him laughing at a bar, telling his friends I was like a "stray dog" that would always crawl back for scraps no matter how much he starved me. When I finally stood up to him, he shoved me out of his SUV onto a dark highway in the middle of a rainstorm and threw my purse into the mud. I walked for miles in the freezing rain, only to get home and find Delisa already moved into the penthouse, sitting at my vanity and wearing my clothes. "You'll be back in a week when the money runs out," he laughed as I packed my only suitcase. "You're a nobody from Queens. You have nothing without me." I looked at the man I had loved for nearly a decade and realized the woman who worshipped him was dead. He had murdered her on that highway, and he didn't even care. I blocked his number, dropped my key card on the floor, and walked out into the night without looking back. I wasn't going to be his "stray dog" anymore. I was heading to a small house in the suburbs to meet Carleton Schmitt—a total stranger I had agreed to marry in a moment of drunken desperation who was now my only way out.
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Chapter 9

Amira walked past the mountain of luggage. Her wet shoes squelched on the marble.

She walked into the master bedroom.

Delisa was sitting at the vanity-Amira's vanity. She was wearing one of Ethan's shirts. She was applying night cream, looking at herself in the mirror.

"Oh," Delisa said, spotting Amira in the reflection. "You made it back."

Ethan emerged from the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He looked at Amira, then at her wet clothes, and shrugged.

"Delisa is staying. Indefinitely," Ethan announced around the toothbrush.

"PR reasons," he added after spitting. "The paparazzi thing. We need to present a united front. She can't be alone."

"Where do I sleep?" Amira asked. Her voice was hollow, a ghost of a sound.

"The guest room is full of her clothes," Ethan said. "The couch? Or the floor."

Delisa laughed softly. "You're used to the floor, aren't you?"

Something inside Amira snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was the quiet, final sound of a lock clicking open.

She didn't scream. She didn't cry.

She turned around and walked to the storage closet down the hall. She found her old suitcase, the one she had brought with her eight years ago.

She went to the guest room, pushed past racks of Delisa's designer gowns, and began to pack.

She packed her laptop. Her medical degrees. Her passport. Her underwear. Jeans. T-shirts.

She left the diamond earrings Ethan had given her for their anniversary. She left the silk dresses he forced her to wear to galas. She left the shoes that hurt her feet.

She picked up the framed photo of her parents from the nightstand. She wrapped it carefully in a sweater and placed it in the bag.

Ethan leaned against the doorframe, watching her. He looked amused.

"You'll be back," he said. "You'll be back in a week when the money runs out. You can't survive out there."

Amira zipped the bag. The sound was sharp, decisive.

She walked past him.

"Leave the key card," he demanded.

Amira stopped at the console table in the foyer. She pulled the key card from her pocket. She dropped it. It hit the table with a plastic clatter.

"Goodbye, Ethan."

She walked out the door. She didn't look back.

She took the elevator down alone. She stepped out into the cold New York night. She had no home. She was about to have no job.

She pulled out her phone. 4% battery.

She opened the chat with Carleton.

Is the offer to stay still open?

Three dots appeared instantly.

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