Plot Twists Short Stories & Doctor Countdown Novels

To marry Lorenzo Vincenzo, I gave up my photography career. A dream I had held for ten years. But on our fourth anniversary, I asked my sister Greer to draft the divorce papers. She kept asking, over and over. "Why would you leave Lorenzo? He's the top surgeon at St. Vincent's. Rich, gorgeous. Half the city is dying for a shot at him." I swallowed the bitterness clawing up my throat. "Because of a gift." Greer followed my gaze to the music box on the table. The card was in Elara's handwriting. Lorenzo's junior from med school. [Thank you for flying out to do my aunt's surgery, senior. I know it was a long trip. You worked so hard. The little dancers on this music box remind me of us at graduation prom. Hope you like it, Lorenzo.] That day, my father was in a car accident. I rushed him to St. Vincent's. Only Lorenzo could do the surgery. I searched every floor of that hospital, every corridor. Nowhere. I told myself he must be on a business trip. But no. He had left his post for Elara. The same man who once swore he would never abandon the OR for personal matters. Finally, my father died on the table. Greer pulled me into her arms. "The Vincenzo family owns this city. Their reach is everywhere. Where could you possibly go that he would not find you?" I glanced at the flight confirmation on my phone. "Three days. I am flying to Paris, to a photography studio there. And I will make sure he never, ever finds me."

On my birthday, My wife told me there was an emergency at the hospital and she couldn’t come home. She sent me five hundred dollars with a note: Happy birthday. Love you. Ten minutes later, her young resident, Evan Hayes, posted a screenshot of a transfer. Fifty thousand dollars. Congratulations on becoming an attending. I’ll be there for every milestone from now on. Seven years ago, Claire lost both her parents and was buried in debt. I gave up a senior architect position overseas, stayed by her side, and helped her through medical school, residency, and every exam that stood between her and the life she wanted. The first time she put on a white coat, she held me and said, “Adrian, I wouldn’t be here without you.” Years later, she gave someone else the time, patience, and care she once gave me. That night, I didn’t argue. I accepted the London offer I had turned down three times, took off the ring I had worn for seven years, and left. Claire wasn’t worried. “He loves me too much. He’ll come back.” A month later, she called in tears. “I’ll give you everything. Just come home.” She still didn’t understand. I never left because Evan got more. I left because the woman I spent seven years lifting up had finally made my love feel worthless.

Ten days after giving birth, I told my husband, Ethan Reed, that something was wrong with me. He turned his phone face-down on the coffee table and looked at me for a full three seconds. "Sophia, you just had a baby. It's normal to feel tired." Then he flipped the phone back over and went on texting his office nurse, Serena Blake. That was the last time I brought it up. Everything that happened after that, I assumed was my own fault. That changed when I reached into his coat pocket and felt a collar I'd never seen before. Real leather, brand new, with a round metal tag hanging from it. It wasn't my size.

A week before the marking ceremony, my fiance, Alpha Mason Wallace, suddenly switches the venue to Firefly Grove. His friends tease him. "You changed the venue just because Serena wants to see fireflies? And you didn't even tell Cora? What if she shows up at an empty site? "Besides, Cora's the one who picked Moonlight Bay. Do you really think she'll go along with this?" Mason says casually, "She burned her skin saving me. She won't fight me over a venue change. Besides, she planned every detail herself. She'll notice the update." I stand outside the doorway, listening in silence. Then, I slip away without a word. When the day finally comes, Mason calls from Firefly Grove, panic in his voice. "The ceremony's about to start. Where are you?" I stare at the shimmer on Moonlight Bay and answer calmly, "I'm already here. My ceremony is about to start too."

I was operating on my husband, Don Cassius Vitelli, when I removed a bullet lodged less than an inch from his heart. He'd refused general anesthesia just so he could stay on the phone with his childhood sweetheart, Mia Russo. He'd insisted on local anesthesia instead. "Stitch faster," he ordered, gripping his phone and fighting not to tremble. Watching him wince in pain, I fought to keep my nerves in check as I pulled out a document and slid it in front of him. "It's a consent form for your post-op medication. Standard procedure." I looked at him. "Sign it, and I'll take care of the rest." Cassius didn't hesitate for a second. Cassius had fought his way to the top and he trusted no one. He normally double-checked everything, down to the supply lists. But he was so focused on Mia's soft breathing over the phone that he signed the document without even looking at it. He had no idea he'd just signed divorce papers. I'd followed him for seven years. For three of them, I'd been his secret wife, the woman he could never show to the world. In 15 days, I would finally be free.