You Called Me A Cripple: He Called Me His Wife

Vanessa's voice nearly cracked.

I froze for a moment, then looked up.

I didn't know when Damian had gotten so close. One hand rested behind my wheelchair, his body leaning forward, almost enclosing me within his arms.

From where I sat, all I could see was the sharp line of his throat and the tension along his jaw.

So his last name was Sterling.

"She's my VIP patient." His voice carried a pressure that was impossible to ignore. "Miss Whitmore, please show some basic courtesy."

Vanessa froze.

Her gaze flicked back and forth between me and him.

After a moment, she let out a soft laugh. "I see."

She spoke slowly. "Evelyn, you move fast."

I frowned.

Before I could understand what she meant, she continued.

"So you're cheating too."

My whole body went stiff.

Vanessa looked as if she had found leverage, the smile on her lips growing sharper.

"Who's any better than who?"

She tilted her head, her eyes tinged with mockery.

"Tell me—if Julian finds out you're cheating, do you think he'll divorce you right away?"

My chest tightened.

I was about to speak, but she had already straightened up.

Her heels clicked sharply against the floor.

"But that works too. After all, the position of Mrs. Crawford was always meant to be mine."

With that, she turned and walked away.

The guards had already approached, but seeing her leave on her own, they didn't stop her.

The onlookers in the lobby were gradually dispersed.

The tension in my body finally loosened.

Only then did I realize how close I was to him—almost pressed against his body.

He was standing very close.

Close enough that I could smell the faint scent of antiseptic on him, mixed with a clean, subtle woody note.

The scent made me suddenly uneasy.

Instinctively, I tried to lean back.

But at that moment, a familiar wet sensation spread beneath me.

My legs weakened, and heat rushed to my face.

I bit my lip, trying to steady my breathing.

Damian quickly noticed something was wrong and glanced down at me.

His gaze lingered on my face for two seconds.

His brows slowly drew together.

"Miss Ashford." His voice dropped low. "Is it acting up again?"

I closed my eyes.

I couldn't speak, only giving a faint nod.

The hollow sensation inside me made it almost impossible to sit upright. There was only one thought in my mind.

I wanted the man in front of me.

He fell silent for a second.

The next moment, he had already moved behind me, pushing the wheelchair. "I'll take you to the treatment room."

I tried to refuse, but a low moan slipped out before I could stop it, startling me into clamping my mouth shut.

I leaned back against the chair, letting him push me, my mind completely blank.

I didn't know how long had passed before the wheelchair stopped outside an office.

He pushed the door open. The room inside was empty.

He wheeled me inside and closed the door behind him.

The room fell silent.

I forced my eyes open.

He was already standing in front of me, leaning down to examine me.

"This needs to be handled." He said it calmly, as if stating a simple medical fact.

I instinctively grabbed his wrist.

"Dr. Sterling…"

His hand paused.

My voice trembled. "I have a husband."

His gaze darkened, his expression hard to read.

After a moment, he let out a quiet chuckle.

"Miss Ashford." His tone was calm, controlled. "I'm a doctor. Relieving a patient's symptoms is my responsibility."