The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

The storm had passed, leaving a heavy, humid silence in its wake. It was 3:00 AM.

Mia sat in the armchair, her head tipped back, eyes closed. She wasn't asleep. She was listening.

She heard the rhythm of Lucas's breathing shift. His eyes were moving rapidly under his eyelids-REM sleep. His brain was waking up, reconnecting the pathways she had stimulated.

The door handle turned. Slowly.

Mia didn't move. She kept her breathing shallow and even. Through her eyelashes, she saw the door crack open. She quickly slid her hand over the bedside table, her fingers closing around the sleek smartphone Dr. Hamilton had left behind on the chart clipboard. She tucked it under her leg, out of sight.

Julian slipped into the room. He wasn't wearing shoes. He held a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in one hand. The smell of whiskey drifted across the room.

He walked to the bed first. He looked down at his cousin.

He glanced up at the camera in the corner. Seeing the red light, he moved to the side of the bed that was in the blind spot created by the high-backed medical equipment stack.

"Stubborn prick," Julian whispered, his voice low enough to avoid the audio pickup on the wall. "Why won't you just die?"

He took a sip of his drink, then turned. His gaze landed on Mia.

She was curled up in the chair, the gray silk dress riding up slightly to reveal her ankles and calves. In the dim light, she looked vulnerable. Defenseless.

Julian smiled. It was a wet, sloppy expression. He set his glass down on the medical cart.

He crept toward her.

Mia heard the friction of his socks on the carpet. She tightened her core muscles, preparing to snap his wrist the moment he touched her.

"Too pretty for a convict," Julian murmured. He reached out, his hand hovering over her face. "Too pretty for a vegetable."

His fingers were an inch from her cheek when heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Julian froze. He snatched his hand back.

The door opened. It was Alfred, pushing a cart with fresh towels.

"Master Julian?" Alfred's voice was devoid of surprise, but heavy with judgment. "It is very late."

Julian straightened his jacket, composing himself instantly. "Just checking on my cousin, Alfred. And making sure our new... guest... has everything she needs."

Alfred looked at the whiskey glass on the medical cart. "The Master is asking for you in the study. Something about the Asian market accounts."

Julian's face palmed. "Now? It's three in the morning."

"The markets in Tokyo are open, sir."

Julian glared at Mia one last time. "Fine." He grabbed his drink and stormed out, brushing past the butler.

Alfred collected the dirty towels and left, closing the door softly.

The moment the latch clicked, Mia opened her eyes. They were cold, hard flint.

She pulled Dr. Hamilton's phone from under her leg. She had set it to record audio the moment the door handle turned. She stopped the recording.

Too pretty for a vegetable... Why won't you just die?

It was all there.

She stood up and walked to the bed.

Lucas's hand was clenched into a fist. The veins on his forearm were bulging, blue ropes against the pale skin.

Mia stared at his hand. He had heard.

"You heard him, didn't you?" she whispered, leaning down close to his ear. "Your dear cousin wants your wife and your company. He's drinking your whiskey and waiting for your funeral."

She saw Lucas's jaw tighten. A microscopic movement, but it was there.

"If you want to stop him," Mia said, her voice turning mocking, "you need to wake up. I can't do it all for you."

She decided to give him one more push.

She moved to the foot of the bed. She lifted the sheet, exposing his feet.

"This is going to hurt," she warned.

She pulled one of the silver wires from her sleeve. She found the Yongquan point-Kidney 1-at the center of his sole. It was the most sensitive, painful point in acupuncture, used to resuscitate consciousness.

She drove the wire in.

Lucas's leg kicked out. Violently.

His foot struck Mia in the shoulder, knocking her back a step.

"Good," Mia said, rubbing her shoulder. "Pain receptors are online."

She removed the wire quickly and covered his feet.

She sat back down and unlocked the stolen phone. She didn't use an app-that would leave a digital footprint. Instead, she opened the browser and typed in a seemingly random string of numbers into the address bar. It loaded a generic-looking error page. She tapped the top left pixel of the screen three times. A black command prompt opened.

To: Five

Message: Need full financials on Julian Kensington. And locate the child. I have a window. Accessing from unsecured node.

She hit send, then cleared the cache and history. Then she looked at Lucas.

"Your move, sleeping beauty."