[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐃𝐔𝐄𝐓 #𝟐 ]
𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 cold-hearted millionaire. After taking over Meadows Enterprise: Consultancy company. Involved in crime organizations. A man who doesn't see the good in people just deceives them and use...
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*YOU CANNOT PROCEED WITH READING THIS WITHOUT READING THE FIRST BOOK : BLISSFUL CHAOS*
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"Hand me the scalpel," I whispered, the words cutting through the sterile air, barely audible over the sound of the beeping heart monitor. My hands were steady, but my pulse was anything but. This was it—the moment that would define me as a surgeon. As a last-year resident in trauma surgery, you either made it, or you didn't. And tonight, I was going to make it. I glanced up at the heart monitor. The heart was stable. For now. The chief resident raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. I could see the skepticism in her eyes, but I wasn't going to flinch.
I moved my hand with precise control to grab the towel, wiping away the blood. "The wound stopped bleeding. Good job," the chief muttered. It wasn't a compliment; it was an acknowledgment, but that was all I needed. I was a twenty-six-year-old woman, scarred by the past but capable as hell. I didn't need anyone's approval.
"You earned it, Russel. Go tell the patient's family he made it. And get me two copies of the reports from last week, I need them for follow-up." Her voice was firm, but I could hear the subtle note of approval beneath it.
I nodded, stepping out of the operating room and into the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway. My legs felt heavy as I made my way to the waiting room, the weight of the long day pressing down on me. I informed the family that their loved one had pulled through, but as I spoke, my mind drifted. It had been three years since I became a resident, and five years since I'd last seen my father. He'd retired, or so I'd heard. Damon said he was running some underground business now, but it didn't matter. I was done with him.
I grabbed the stack of reports from last week, the papers sharp against my fingers as I walked toward the chief's office. When I handed them over, she barely looked up. "You're dismissed for the day," she said, surprising me. I didn't question it; I just nodded.
"But I have three more patients to check on," I argued, my exhaustion barely concealed.
"Someone came looking for you. A family emergency. You should go." The chief's tone left no room for debate.
