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My Fiancée Let His Secretary Cut Me—Now I Let the World See Them Crumble Novel Cover

My Fiancée Let His Secretary Cut Me—Now I Let the World See Them Crumble

A sudden, agonizing eye injury leaves her vision clouded in blood, forcing her to rush to the hospital for emergency surgery. Instead of help, she is blocked by a hostile assistant demanding the operating room for a cosmetic procedure. The assistant arrogantly threatens her using the power of her boss, Lochlan Hargrave. Little does she know, Lochlan is actually the billionaire fiancé the protagonist has yet to meet. Taking matters into her own hands, she dials him to demand immediate answers.
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Chapter 2

Olivia's smile dropped when she saw I wasn’t backing down.

Her eyes narrowed and in one sudden motion, she lunged at me—heel landing squarely on my foot, driving sharp pain through my bones.

“You heard that? Now, get out while I’m still nice!”

I was already woozy from the pain in my eye. The sudden blow to my foot sent me reeling and before I could steady myself, the back of my head cracked hard against a fire extinguisher box mounted to the wall.

A loud thud echoed in my ears, followed by an unbearable ringing. My vision went completely black. Whatever faint light I could still sense in my left eye vanished in an instant—replaced by an explosion of blinding pain.

Gritting my teeth, I struggled to my feet, one hand pressed tightly over my wounded eye. My voice shook—not with weakness, but fury. “If something happens to my eye, you and your precious Hargrave Global won’t be able to pay your way out of it. This is on you, Olivia. And Lochlan is going to deal with the mess you’ve made.”

She stared at me like I’d just told her the sun rises in the west. Like I was the crazy one here.

What she didn’t know—what none of them knew—was that this eye wasn’t just mine. It was part of a national research effort involving high-risk neurosurgery, a classified government project. Losing it wouldn’t just change my life. It would cost the country millions. It could derail years of medical progress.

But Olivia just laughed, tipping her head back like she’d heard the funniest joke of the year.

“Consequences?” she repeated, then waved her hand dismissively. “Honey, in Ardelis, Mr. Hargrave is the law. No one dares make us pay for anything.”

As if on cue, several hospital security guards came marching toward us.

“Clear the way!” one of them barked, shoving aside bystanders. “Move along, folks. Nothing to see here!”

Another guard shouted, “Dr. Boatman is only seeing one VIP today—Miss Charles. If you’re not her, go wait somewhere else.”

One of them reached toward me, clearly intending to drag me away like I was the one causing a scene.

I snapped, my voice cutting through the chaos like glass. “Where’s Dr. Boatman? Bring him out here. Is this how he runs his hospital—letting people abuse patients under his nose?”

Almost instantly, a short, sweaty man burst through the office doors, his face lined with panic—and a false, too-wide smile.

“Miss Charles!” he called out, completely ignoring me. “Who upset you? My apologies, truly. You shouldn’t have had to raise your voice—something this minor, I would’ve handled it personally!”

He rushed straight past me, bowing and scraping in front of Olivia like she was royalty.

It was infuriating.

So this was it? The director of a prestigious hospital, groveling at the feet of a corporate assistant while a bleeding emergency patient lay ignored?

She wasn’t just throwing her weight around—he was the one handing it to her.

The longer I watched, the hotter the fury in my chest burned.

I pulled myself up using the wall, barely managing to stay on my feet. My fingers reached for the encrypted phone in my coat pocket—the one with direct access to the Institute.

Fine, I thought coldly. If Dr. Boatman won’t deal with this, maybe the national board will.

But before I could hit “call,” a voice boomed down the hallway.

“Enough. Ingrid.”

I froze, heart leaping despite myself.

I looked up and saw him.

Lochlan.

He strode toward us like a thundercloud in a tailored navy suit, expression carved from ice, his jaw tight with something between frustration and contempt.

For one brief second—despite everything—I felt a sliver of hope. No matter how cold he’d sounded on the phone, I was still his fiancée—on paper, at least. Maybe seeing me injured would be enough to shake something loose inside him. Maybe he’d remember the engagement both our families arranged.

I started forward, leaning on the wall to steady myself. “Lochlan,” I said, voice strained, “my eye—it’s an emergency. Your secretary—”

But Olivia darted ahead of me and launched herself into his arms like some damsel from a bad soap opera.

“She attacked me!” Olivia sobbed, her voice trembling with fake emotion. “She barged into your operating room and started yelling at me! Then she pushed me!”

Lochlan immediately pulled her into his arms like she was some fragile little girl, shielding her protectively. Then he turned to me.

His eyes sliced through me like a blade of ice.

“Are you done making a scene?” he snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you, Ingrid?”

The disdain in his voice hit harder than anything he’d ever said over the phone—colder, sharper, crueler. It wasn’t just anger now. It was personal.

I staggered a little, the world tilting slightly and pointed at my face. Blood was still seeping from the cut near my temple.

“I’m the one who needs emergency surgery,” I said, my voice barely holding steady. “She jumped the line for eyelid surgery. Eyelid surgery, Lochlan. And you’re really just going to ignore that?”

“She owes me an apology,” I added, forcing the words out. “After that, she can leave. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

“An apology?” Lochlan echoed, his brows lifting like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke. His eyes raked over me from head to toe like I was some filthy stray that had wandered into his perfect little world. “What makes you think Olivia owes you an apology?”

The disgust in his voice was almost tangible, worse than anything he'd ever said. “Look at yourself. Dressed like some backwoods nobody. And you still have the nerve to call yourself my fiancée? Just arguing with you makes me look bad!”

Backwoods nobody?

The plain white shirt I wore wasn’t some bargain bin disaster. It was custom-designed for lab work—stained with blood and chemicals from three sleepless nights of experimental research. From trying to save lives.

And he dared to call me that?

I pointed at my injured eye, biting each word like glass

“If I lose this eye, you will be responsible. Can you live with that?”

He didn’t even blink.

Instead, he turned to Olivia with a gentleness so foreign, it made my stomach twist. He reached up and carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You okay, Liv?” he murmured, voice warm and full of quiet affection. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s not worth it.”

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