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The Doctor's Return  Novel Cover

The Doctor's Return

Dante Moretti, a cold mafia leader, once betrayed Elara Vance. After using her to secure an heir, he intended to discard her in a facility. Elara fled to survive, but seven years later, she returns to New York a transformed woman. She seeks neither his wealth nor his love; her only interest in his heart is surgical. As Dante faces death and begs for redemption, the woman he once broke is now the only surgeon capable of saving his life.
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Chapter 1

"Elara."

I jumped, nearly dropping a tray of vials. Dr. Aris stood in the doorway. He wasn't supposed to be here until eight.

"Dr. Aris?"

"I need you to run an errand," he said while fidgeting with a black folder. "Some materials need to be picked up from a private courier. It's downtown."

I paused, wiping my hands on my apron. My back ached, and my legs felt heavy.

"Doctor, I'm in the middle of the blood panels for the oncology study. Picking up materials isn't in

my job description. That's for the logistics team."

Aris stepped into the room, finally looking at me. "The logistics team isn't cleared for this. I need

someone I trust. Someone discreet."

"I'm exhausted," I said flatly. "I've been on my feet for sixteen hours. I'll do it, but only if it's

overtime. Double pay for the hours I'm off-site, plus a voucher for the subway back."

He nodded quickly.

"Fine, no problem. Don't worry about the subway. There's a car waiting outside the east exit. They'll bring you back when you're done."

That was the first red flag. Aris was usually stingy enough to count the number of latex gloves we used. For him to agree to double pay without an argument meant he was desperate, or someone else was footing the bill. I stripped off my lab coat, grabbed my bag, and headed for

the exit.

The car was a black sedan with tinted windows.

 Two men sat in the front. They were wearing

identical black suits and sunglasses, despite the sun not being up yet. They didn't speak when I

approached. One of them simply unlocked the back door.

I hesitated. New York had taught me to be suspicious of everything that felt too easy.

But then I thought about the notice I'd received yesterday morning, the one informing me that

my tuition payment was overdue and my student account would be frozen in forty-eight hours.

Aris wouldn't set me up to be kidnapped. He needed me for the lab work too much.

So, I got in.

The car pulled up in front of a heavy steel door with no signage.

I knew this place.

It was an elite private club, the kind where the membership fee cost more than my four-year

degree.

"Out," the driver said. It was the first word anyone had spoken.

"This isn't a courier office," I said, my heart beginning to thud against my ribs. "What is this?"

"Go inside, Ms. Vance. You're expected."

The second man got out and stood by my door, gesturing toward the entrance. His posture told

me that getting back in the car wasn't an option.

I walked toward the door. It opened before I could touch the handle.

The two men led me down a hallway and opened a set of double doors.

The room was large, and a man was seated at the center. He was tall, even while sitting, dressed in a black tuxedo. He had dark hair pushed back from a face that looked like it had

been carved out of stone. He didn't smile. He didn't even look like he breathed.

I sat down in the chair across from him because my knees were starting to shake.

I needed to appear stable.

He didn't introduce himself or even offer a drink.

Rude.

He simply reached into a leather briefcase and pushed a thick stack of documents across the

table towards me.

"I am going to pay off your medical school debt," he said. His voice was low. "Every cent. I will also buy you a medical practice in any city you choose, and I will deposit ten million dollars into

a private account in your name."

I stared at him.

The silence in the room was absolute. Then, a laugh escaped my mouth. I couldn't help it. It was the most absurd thing I had ever heard.

"Is this a joke? Is there a camera hidden in the wall?"

The man didn't react to my laughter at all.

The room remained silent, heavy and suffocating.

My laughter died instantly. I realized he wasn't waiting for a punchline.

"What's the catch?" I asked, clearing my throat."Nobody gives away ten million dollars for free."

"You will marry me," he said with absolute certainty.

I laughed again, unsure if this was all a prank.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"You will live in my home. And you will give me a male heir within one year of my next birthday.

Once the child is born, you receive your final payment and your freedom."

I leaned back, trying to process the madness."You don't even know me. You picked a random lab assistant out of a university basement to carry your child? What happened to strippers or girls in your world?"

"I don't do anything at random, Elara," he said."I requested a survey to be sent out to all students in your school, and you were among the few that met all criteria. I told your employer I needed time to speak with you, hence the lie."

I looked down at the papers, a contract. Ten million dollars, my debt wiped clean, and a future

where I didn't have to choose between a subway fare and a sandwich.

I looked at his face again. He was cold, yes, but he looked trustworthy.

"All you need is a son?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Yes. After that, our business is concluded."

I thought about my dorm room with the leaking ceiling, the six-figure loan on my shoulders that

would take thirty years to pay off and the fact that I was completely alone in the world.

If I disappeared tomorrow, nobody would even notice until my shift started at the lab.

This was dangerous.

I knew that.

But poverty was its own kind of danger, one that was currently killing me by inches.

At least this way, there was a finish line.

"Is the contract binding?" I asked.

"Legally enforceable?"

"My lawyers ensured it," he said.

I picked up the pen sitting on top of the documents.

This was the only way out of the life I was living. I signed my name on the bottom line of every page, right next to his.

Dante Moretti.

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