Semua Bab The Billionaire Doctor's Unwilling Wife : Bab 1 - Bab 10

TWO Emily ​“Don’t go too far, my darling. You’re still recovering from that terrible flight,” Grandma’s voice echoed in my head as I walked down the quiet, tree-lined street the next afternoon. ​The autumn breeze was crisp, rustling the golden leaves above, but it did nothing to cool the frustration humming beneath my skin. It had been forty-eight hours since I caught Tristan red-handed and cut him out of my life like a malignant tumor. Forty-eight hours of trying to breathe, trying to process the sheer audacity of a man I had spent two years believing in. ​Work emails were already piling up in my inbox—urgent flags from department heads, budget approvals, and staff scheduling queries—but back here in my hometown, one specific name kept surfacing in every local conversation: Seth Hernandez. ​I scoffed under my breath, kicking a stray pebble down the pavement. ​Seth was the undisputed golden boy of the medical world. A brilliant neurosurgeon at just thirty-two, heir to the m

FOUR ​Emily ​“This is absurd,” I snapped, slamming my palm down against the polished mahogany conference table. The sharp crack echoed off the glass walls of the high-rise room. “I am the sitting President of this board. No merger moves forward without my explicit, written signature.” ​“With all due respect, Miss DelaRosa,” the Hernandez Group’s head attorney chimed in, smoothly adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses before turning the thick leather document to the signature page. “Your father held sixty percent voting control at the time of signing. The clause is entirely self-executing upon the five-year mark of his passing. Your signature is merely a formality—the transition is already legally underway.” ​My chest tightened, a cold sensation washing over me. The feeling of control slipping through my fingers was suffocating. My father had built Gifted Hands Hospital with his bare hands, pouring his sweat, soul, and integrity into its foundation. Why on earth would he secretly tie our

SIX ​Seth ​I stepped out of the boardroom, letting the heavy double doors click shut behind me. ​Behind those doors, Emily was still standing near the mahogany table—flushed, furious, and trembling with a dangerous mix of rage and shock. I could still feel the faint burn of her pulse against my thumb from where I’d held her wrist. ​She was going to fight me every step of the way. I expected nothing less from Dr. Emily DelaRosa. ​Daniel was waiting in the private corridor, leaning against the marble wall. The moment the doors closed and he caught sight of my face, he immediately straightened his posture. ​"How bad was it, boss?" he asked, falling into step beside me. ​"The longest meeting of my life," I muttered, unbuttoning my suit jacket as we walked down the glass-walled hallway. ​Instead of heading toward the private elevator, I veered toward the heavy door at the end of the hall. "Rooftop." ​Daniel nodded without asking questions. ​The sharp afternoon wind hit us the seco

EIGHT ​Seth ​One week. Seven days. ​Days had begun to pass like a slow, rhythmic drumbeat, each one drawing me closer to the court wedding with Emily DelaRosa. ​One week remained before our legally binding civil ceremony, with the official consolidation of Gifted Hands and Healing Grace set to follow immediately after. ​We had reached a mutual, unspoken consensus—a quiet court signing, no media circus, no lavish ceremony. Everyone in our respective inner circles had reluctantly accepted the arrangement. The elders were appeased, the corporate board was placated, yet despite the seamless business execution, an irritating tension gnawed at the back of my mind. ​I was sitting in the study of my penthouse, the sprawling city skyline bleeding dark blue and gold through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels. ​I had just finished reviewing the weekly regional patient intake reports when my personal phone vibrated against the dark mahogany desk. I picked it up, expecting a routine operatio

TEN ​Emily ​As soon as Tristan slammed the door and stormed out of my office, Xena slipped back inside, crossing her arms and eyeing me with a mix of sharp suspicion and amusement. ​“What?” I asked, attempting to suppress the smug, victorious smile that was desperately threatening to break across my face. ​“Tell me… how did that go?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe. ​To anyone walking into Gifted Hands Hospital, Xena was simply my quiet, extremely competent administrative secretary. They couldn't be more wrong. ​Outside these white corporate walls, she was my best friend, my primary sounding board, and the only person on earth who knew exactly how my mind worked. She knew when to joke, when to offer comfort, and when it was time to dive straight into work. We were gossip partners, sisters, and confidantes wrapped into one. ​“He came in here asking if we could get back together,” I said, finally letting the broad smile break free. “He actually apologized and asked me to