Becoming Dr. Q: My Journey From Migrant Farm Worker To Brain Surgeon

They threw me away like I was nothing. Divorced me for my younger, prettier, fertile sister. I signed divorce papers while I suspected I was finally pregnant. Smiled while they handed me five thousand dollars and told me to disappear. I disappeared, alright. Off a cliff, Into freezing water. Nearly drowned carrying his twins. Someone wanted me dead. His family buried the investigation before my body was even cold, except there was no body. Because I survived. Ten years later, I walk back into their world as Dr. Scarlett Fox. The surgeon they're begging to save his dying mother. He doesn't recognize me until it's too late. Untill he sees my face and his entire world crumbles. Then he sees my kids, his kids. With his eyes and my fury. Now Nicholas's on his knees. Saying he spent a decade in hell thinking he killed me. Saying he's changed. But someone in his family is guilty, and as I dig deeper, people start watching. The man who saved me, Spencer, wants me to stop. He says it's too dangerous. That I should choose him, let the past stay buried. But I didn't survive murder just to run back scared. I'm Dr. Scarlett Fox now. Elite surgeon. Single mother. And I'm about to perform the most important operation of my life. Cutting out the cancer in the Cruz family. Even if it kills me this time.

"She’s just a legal vessel for my heir. Once the child is born, I’ll dispose of her." Those ruthless words shattered Serena’s three-year marriage to billionaire, Rafael Navarro. Hidden in the shadows, she watched her cold-hearted husband passionately entangle with his own stepsister, realizing she was merely a biological pawn meant to bear a healthy child to bypass their twisted, genetically doomed bloodline. Disgusted and fiercely protective of the newly discovered life growing inside her, Serena refused to be their sacrificial lamb. On a violent stormy night, she orchestrated her own tragic death, plunging a car off a cliff and burying her naive love at the bottom of the deep abyss. Five years later, the weak, discarded wife is dead. In her place stands Dr. S, a globally feared and untouchable medical genius. Karma strikes with absolute vengeance when the child Rafael ultimately had with his stepsister is born with severe, rotting genetic defects. Desperate and out of options, the once-arrogant billionaire is forced to his knees in public, offering his empire to beg Dr. S for the boy's life, completely oblivious that the ruthless woman looking down at him is the wife he drove to her grave. But Rafael's ultimate descent into madness begins when he crosses paths with Serena’s four-year-old prodigy possessing his exact emerald-green eyes, a son who coldly looks right through him, leaving Rafael to burn in the ashes of his late regret.

This year, as the country's leading neurosurgeon, I was invited to perform a high-profile specialist surgery at a hospital in another state. Twenty years ago, I stood in this very operating room. My mother suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and the surgeon's hand slipped by less than a quarter of an inch. She died. Back then, it was my first love, Ethan Lancaster, who helped me through the grief. Only later did I learn the truth. The surgeon listed on the case was Ethan's father, the hospital's renowned Chief of Neurosurgery. But the one actually holding the scalpel was Ethan himself, still a surgical resident at the time. He and Vanessa Hart had planned it all along. They used my mother's operation as a practice case to advance his career. After the tragedy, Vanessa used her status as the hospital director's daughter to bury the entire incident. From that day forward, I gave up my guaranteed research placement and sat for medical school entrance exams again. I studied from undergraduate through postdoctoral training. I spent twenty full years turning myself into the kind of surgeon who would never make that mistake. All so that one day, no one else would have to suffer the same tragedy my mother did. Today, my assistant slid a patient's file across the desk. Brainstem tumor. Late stage. Extremely high risk. The face in the photo had aged considerably, but I recognized it at a glance. I handed the file back to my assistant and removed my surgical coat. “I can't perform this surgery.”

On my birthday, my mother-in-law had just been wheeled out of surgery, only to be sent straight back into the ER. In a video newly posted by an intern, he was shown holding a scalpel and cutting my mother-in-law open, while the lead surgeon, who was my wife, was nowhere in sight. “Who says interns aren’t qualified to operate? No worries. My Dr. Lover dotes on me.” Colleagues flooded the comment section, saying the couple was sweet and that they were shipping them. I forwarded the video straight to the hospital director. Not long after, my wife called me. Her breath ragged and voice fragmented. “So I forgot your birthday. Is that reason enough for you to go to the director and accuse me of violating hospital rules? “I’m so done with your unreasonable behavior! Even if my mother sides with you this time, I’m still getting a divorce…” She hung up before I could respond. What she didn’t know was that her mother wouldn’t be taking my side anymore. Because the patient who went into massive postoperative hemorrhage and died during resuscitation, under the lead of an intern, was her mother.

"You have the hands of a goddess," he rasped, his blood staining my operating table. Even with three bullets in his chest, his grey eyes held nothing but command. He was Damian Volkov, the Bratva's heir, and I was the off-the-grid surgeon who just saved his life. "And you have a bill to pay," I told him, tying the final suture. His laugh was a dark, dangerous sound. "Oh, Doctor. I don't deal in cash." His hand closed around my wrist, not with force, but with the chilling certainty of ownership. "You belong to me now." He dragged me from the shadows of my clinic to his gilded cage high above the Vegas Strip. He thinks he's claimed a simple doctor. He has no idea I'm Evelyn Reed, daughter of a murdered senator, hiding secrets that could burn his entire world to the ground. He wants my submission. My skills. My body. But in this game of secrets and seduction, the most dangerous weapon isn't the gun in his hand. It's the scalpel in mine.

Doctor Catherine Ross is a surgeon on the rise. She is well liked by her colleagues and loves her job at the emergency department of a major hospital in the city. She has the heart in the right place and would do anything to save a life. But her confidence is only related to her occupation. When it comes to romantic relationships she is severely lacking. Her too full curves and being a bookworm has led to bullying and low self esteem. Alessio Peccati is a handsome bachelor on the outside and heartless mafia boss on the inside. He would never give up a chance to torture and harm a person who has done him injustice. He looks good and knows it. A new woman on his arm every week, all of them slim, made up, fake and perfect. Perfect for an official outing. Perfecty submissive for a few nights of hard fucking. But too fake to keep. When a member of his family is shot in a deserted parking lot and Catherine is nearby, she doesn’t hesitate to help. What she doesn’t know is that if you mix with the mafia, there is only one way out, by death. Now she is a captive of the Peccati family and forced to work as a doctor and a surgeon for the man holding her captive. Soon Alessio finds he has more interest in the confident and independent doctor than just business related. He has never wanted a woman like he wants Catherine. How will Catherine find her new life? Will she ever be free from her captivity? Will she ever want to be free? For a mature audience only! This book contains explicit content with violence, murder, torture, psycological abuse, depression, suicide attempt, rape, noncunsensual and forced sex.