Secret Surgeon Novels & Stories

Blair smiled. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. Was she wrong? Could it be Draco? The voice at the other end of the phone soon put that thought out of her head. “Ms. Carson, my name is Doctor Featherstone, from Auckland City Hospital. Your father has been admitted with a heart attack. He’s stable at present, and we will need to operate. But he appears to be more concerned about his restaurant than his health. He refuses to consent to the surgery. Quite frankly, if we don’t operate he won’t be so lucky the next time around.”

"I swear to God, I will toss myself out of this car if you two start confessing your undying love right now." I shot him a nasty look. " Shut up and drive faster." He didn't dispute. There was nowhere the hospital could have chosen. We could not risk being found. Our options were limited to one. The clinic is hidden below ground. The doors opened the instant we started to pull up. Two guards accompanied a man in a white coat as he left. Ivan Petrov, doctor. a surgeon with a background as bloody as the patients he saw. He looked at Leo once and sighed. "Insert him within." fast.

He had severed the bond to make this easier for himself. Finally, the van slowed down. We pulled into a gravel lot. I could hear the sound of a heavy metal door rolling up. When the van door opened, the fluorescent lights of a hidden clinic blinded me. It looked like a basement, sterilized and cold, hidden away from the world where laws and morals mattered. "Get her up," Silas commanded. They dragged me inside. There was a man there in a white coat, his scent smelling of chemicals and death. He didn't look like a doctor; he looked like a butcher.

Eve's POV Dr. Luke Sanders. They call him the cold-hearted- doctor. Kinda ironic for a heart surgeon. The guy is a genius and built the hospital from the ground up. He is the youngest heart surgeon in history, well as far as New York is concerned. He flew through school and graduated early. He's got about a million awards somewhere, but he never shows them off... I wonder if he tossed them in the trash? I only know about them because I've looked him up when contemplating murder charges...

My voic‌e‌ cracked in my own me‍mor‍y. “Tell me exact‍ly wh‌at Dr. Pate‌l said. Is there‍ a way​ o‌ut?”⁠ ‌ Silas had b‍een too dr⁠unk for wo‌rds to come‍ smooth. “Patel said it’s growing. But⁠ th‌ere’s this surgeon … Dr. Lukas⁠ Kell‌er… fro​m zuri‍ch. The best, for this kind of tumor. He’s co​ming to LA nex⁠t week t​o see me.”‌

"Who authorized it?" "That's the question," Harrison shook his head in the mixture of amazement and professional admiration. "The operating records were sealed under a Tier-One federal executive protocol. The signatures on the bypass charts were encrypted using the generic medical board license number. Nobody on the floor saw a face, he or she scrubbed in from the private surgical airlock and left the place even before the post-op rounds began. According to the rumor, this person has been quietly correcting impossible surgical cases in three states." "A ghost surgeon with executive clearance?" Maya laughed mockingly. "Sounds like an urban legend the attending doctors invented to scare the in

She walked straight into my office, her voice hoarse as she said, "Scott, you're my secretary—" "Former secretary." I cut her off expressionlessly and slid a freshly prepared resignation letter across the desk toward her. "Sign it, Ms. York. Also, this is my lawyer's contact information. He'll liaise directly with your legal team regarding the lawsuit against Mr. Moore for misappropriating trade secrets."

For the road. Cho's throat tightened. Who? The one man in this whole business who never made a mistake. He took another drink, and his mouth twisted. We called him the Chemist, in the old days, though never to his face. He is a surgeon. A man of the most exquisite precision. He has handled every awkward matter the Hargroves ever had for thirty years, and he has never once been seen. The microphone crackled softly in Cho's collar. His name, she said quietly. Lyle, Whitlock said. He swallowed and blinked, as though something had caught in his throat. Ambrose Lyle. Mount Sinai. Quiet. Pleasant. Rather deaf in the left ear. You would never look at him twice.

It was his obsession, after all—he was the ghost-surgeon the world whispered about. I nodded. "You're a healer, Aaron, even if you keep your hands in the shadows. Do you know of any peers—any master surgeons who could operate without Lexi Hart’s interference?" "Well," Aaron replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Arranging such a feat could be done. I know a prominent cardiac runeweaver, but he practices in the distant Nord City. If it means peace for your friend, I can arrange a secret consultation." For the sake of his sister’s hidden plea, Aaron was ready to move mountains. Seeing the tension leave my shoulders was payment enough for him.

"Mr. Kessler... shall we initiate the structural reduction now?" The chief surgeon spoke with a visible tremor, beads of cold sweat tracking his brow. Dominic leaned back against the headrest, tossing the protective drape aside with his left hand. Without opening his eyes, a low, gravelly affirmation vibrated in his throat. "Do it." The surgeon seized the misaligned bone structure, executing a sudden, massive traction before driving the segment back into its anatomical alignment— Snap.