Doctor Donald Blake Novels & Stories

I startled crying. Robert gasped. “Oh, Lord!” he covered his mouth. Blake entered the operating room. The doctors were shocked. “Sir, you are not allowed to enter!” Blake’s shoulder shake. “Da-Damon,” he whispered, looking at Damon unconsciously getting operated on. The nurse pushed Blake away from the operating room. “Sir, get out now, or we will be having hard times recovering the patients,”

I turned to look at Dowen and asked, "What is it?" "King Blake is ill and won't take his medicine. Ms. Wyatt, will you talk to him?" Dowen looked concerned. Blake wouldn't take his medicine? That was funny. "I'm not sure if I can help with anything." I didn't think I was still important to him that he would listen to me. "Ms. Wyatt. Please. I'm begging you!" Dowen said sincerely. I nodded. "OK. I'll give it a try." Dowen and the doctor left the room. There was only me and Blake.

“Tell me everything." We sat in Frank's office, me on his leather couch, him across from me, posture deceptively relaxed. "His name is Dr. Magnus Vance. Chief of Surgery at Boston Memorial. "My hands twisted together hard enough to hurt. "I was a third year resident. And I watched him kill patients." Frank went very still. "Explain." "Medication errors that weren't errors. Post-op complications in healthy patients. Overdoses ruled accidental." I swallowed hard. "I started tracking it. Too many deaths in his cases, all with massive insurance payouts."

Tyler says sounding angry. Blake uses the heel of both his palms to rub his eyes. "I'm sorry guys, I'm just so tired of everything and it doesn't help that she looks like Daisy, which automatically means she reminds me of Bloo-HER" he says and I feel bad for him. He has been through more shit than any of us have and he still turned out great. I never would have thought Blake would turn out to be a doctor. A professional football player? Definitely. But a doctor? I did not see it coming.

My child deserved better than that. Blake came into the hospital to finally take me home, and as usual, he was sour. He did not ask how I was feeling or if the doctor said anything important. He instead plunged into his usual interrogative mode. "Why did Dr. Wood hang out in your room so long?" he asked while driving me home. I sighed, too tired to argue. "He's my doctor, Blake. That's what he's supposed to do." Blake snorted. "You're close to him for someone who claims nothing is going on."

I offered him a small, warm smile. "Okay," I said softly. "I'll see you tonight at seven." Blake walked slowly toward the front door. He opened it, stepping out into the cold, empty hallway. Before he closed the door, he stopped and looked back at me one last time. His dark eyes were hollow, completely devoid of the tender warmth from last night. "Put on the beautiful dress tonight, Dr. Ford," Blake said, his voice flat, formal, and chillingly quiet. "Arrive on time. The truth will finally have its stage."

“This has to end.” He has to be mine. No matter what it takes, Blaze has to be in my arms and no one else’s. I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts, landing on Donald’s name. “Hey, Donald,” I say when he picks up. “Yes, Sir?” “Those men you followed the night Blaze was molested—I need every fucking detail about his deal with the old man,” I order, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Understood, Sir,” Donald replies.

A few minutes later, the doctor in his late fifties, who had introduced himself as Harmon Blake, came in. He took his seat right in front of us. "I'm sorry for taking up your time. It's just that we had to run a series of tests to be sure of what exactly we're dealing with. And I will say, this case has... complicated elements." Well… I didn't like the sound of that. "Complicated how? And how is he? Is he okay now? Because i've got a lot of questions to ask him," I asked, getting straight to the point.

My lips curved into a crescent smile, hoping he wouldn't dig further. "Oh absolutely. Yeah." Brooke nodded, showing me her pearly white teeth, hint of mischief glinting in her eyes. Oh no. Did she see something? Our conversation was cut short when a knock sounded at the door, and the doctor came in. Checking up Blake's condition, he prescribed medication and discharged him. Thanking him as he left, I closed the door of the cabin and turned back when someone knocked again. Frowning, I pulled the door open. "Yes, doc..." I trailed, my frown deepening. "Mr Kingston?"

Diana said. Dr. Blake arrived at eleven; she'd been working with us since the early reconciliation period before the proposal, before the wedding, through the arena and the recovery, and the first words and everything in between. Regular sessions, formal and professional, the kind of work that didn't have shortcuts and didn't pretend to. She came in, set her bag down, and looked at both of us. "This is the last session," she said. Not a question. "You tell us," Joshua said.