His Doctor Bride

Chapter One .

Damien Grayson had never been this sure about anything in his life.

Not about his company. Not about his money. But about her Clara.

The night had to be perfect. He made sure every single thing was exactly how she liked it.

Fancy.

The rooftop of Le Ciel, her favorite restaurant.

Roses lined along the table. Her favorite champagne. And a small black box that carried a ring he believed would change his life forever.

He had pictured the moment so many times. Her walking in with that confident smile that always made him forget every other woman in the room. She’d probably act surprised, cover her mouth, maybe even cry.

And he’d drop down on one knee, say a few words he’d practiced all week, and ask her to marry him.

It was supposed to be a new beginning.

But she was late.

Twenty minutes late.

He kept glancing at his watch, then at the elevator doors, waiting for her to appear. The waiter approached with a polite smile, asking if he should open the champagne, and Damien just shook his head. “She’ll be here soon,” he said, forcing a smile.

She always was late. Fashion shows, parties, events — Clara lived in a different kind of world. He knew that. He’d accepted it.

Still, something about tonight felt different.

He stood from his seat and walked to the glass railing, looking down at the city lights below. The view was beautiful, but his mind wasn’t there.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm the strange uneasiness that had been sitting in his stomach all evening.

Maybe she got caught up with work. Maybe she just forgot the time. He kept telling himself that.

But when he looked down again, that uneasy feeling turned into something worse.

There she was.

In the lounge downstairs — same red dress she’d told him she would wear tonight. Blonde hair falling perfectly over her shoulder. But she wasn’t alone.

A man sat across from her.

A man sat across from her.

He leaned closer, said something, and she smiled. For a second, Damien thought it was innocent — until she reached across the table, touched his face, and pulled him in.

Their lips met.

It wasn’t a quick kiss. It was slow, familiar, intimate — the kind shared between two people who already belonged to each other.

Damien froze. Every sound around him disappeared. The music, the chatter, the city — all gone.

He just stood there, staring at the woman he was about to propose to, kissing someone else like he never existed.

His stomach twisted. He felt something sharp inside his chest, something he couldn’t even describe.

She kissed the man again, this time deeper, her hand sliding to the back of his neck. The way she smiled against his lips was the same way she used to smile at Damien.

And just like that, the night he thought would change his life ended before it even began.

Something broke inside him.

He stepped back from the railing, his pulse beating faster. He didn’t want to believe what he saw. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. Maybe it was a friend. Maybe it was work. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He’d seen that look before. The same one she used to give him.

Damien turned away, his throat tightening. The ring box in his pocket suddenly felt useless.

He walked straight out of the restaurant. The waiter tried to stop him, asking if everything was alright, but he didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

The elevator ride down felt endless. His reflection stared back at him from the metal door — tired eyes, tight jaw, the look of a man who’d just realized he’d been played.

When the doors opened, he headed straight for the exit. The night breeze hit his face as he stepped outside. He pulled his coat tighter, but it didn’t help the cold spreading inside him.

His black Lamborghini sat parked under the lights. He opened the door and sat inside without even starting the engine.

He just sat there, staring at the steering wheel, breathing hard.

Everything started rushing through his mind — the way she’d told him she loved him, how she said money didn’t matter, how she’d sworn she wasn’t like the others.

And he believed her.

Every damn word.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box. He flipped it open, stared at the diamond, and let out a shaky breath. Then he tossed it onto the passenger seat like it meant nothing.

His chest felt like it was caving in.

He started the car, but his hands were shaking too much. He gripped the wheel tighter, trying to steady them. His heart raced faster, his breathing uneven. He could feel the pressure building in his head — the kind that always came before his episodes.

Not now. Not here.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of Clara with that man kept flashing through his mind, again and again. Her laugh. Her smile. Her hand on someone else’s face.

He slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “Why, Clara?” he muttered. His voice broke halfway through.

The ringing in his ears started — the sound he hated most. His hands twitched. His vision blurred. The world around him began to twist, like the lights outside were spinning too fast.

He tried to breathe, but it came out rough and short. His body wasn’t listening anymore.

Then the seizure hit.

His muscles stiffened, his fingers jerked against the wheel. He tried to reach for his phone, but it slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

He could feel the darkness closing in, slow and heavy.

He gasped once, then again, and his head fell back against the seat. His entire body trembled.

Everything around him started to fade — the streetlights, the cars passing by, the sound of the city.

The last thing he remembered was her name echoing in his mind.

Then everything went dark