Veil Bed Hospital Novels & Stories

On my wedding day, Levi Robbins' "close friend" Gina Fields suddenly fainted. Without hesitation, he dropped everything and rushed to the hospital, leaving me at the altar. My mother, witnessing this humiliating scene from her seat, suffered a heart attack. Yet, none of the guests bothered to help as they were too busy gossiping and laughing at my misfortune. By the time I managed to get her to the hospital, we had missed the critical window for treatment. Just then, Levi finally called, his voice urgent and demanding. "Caitlyn, where are you? Gina's condition is critical, and she needs your bone marrow!" "Levi, we're done," I said firmly, hanging up and walking away. This time, I would not look back.

Ten years ago, Rayden’s family was mercilessly slaughtered. He was left for dead, a mere shadow of a once-respected clan. In the eyes of the world, Rayden was gone. But in the darkness, he grew. Honing forbidden arts. Nurturing an unquenchable rage. Now, Rayden returns. Not as an heir, not as a hero. But as a sinner. A cultivator who has chosen a forbidden path for one reason—revenge. Beneath the veil of the modern world, cultivator clans hide their secrets, their artifacts, and their power. The Bramasta family, seemingly clean on the surface, is his first target. But the deeper Rayden infiltrates, the larger the web he uncovers, including a name that has haunted his every waking moment—Lucien Dorne. Every step Rayden takes will challenge the laws of cultivation, uncover old betrayals, and test his own moral limits. Because to destroy a monster, sometimes, you have to become a greater one.

Hidden from human eyes, Obscura Arcanum University has existed for centuries—where wolves, witches, and vampires sharpen their magic behind walls of secrecy. But when Nora—a runaway with nothing but scars and survival instincts—accidentally stumbles through the veil, everything changes. She isn’t human. She isn’t supposed to exist. The last ember of a bloodline buried in ash, Nora’s presence reignites an ancient prophecy whispered in fear and forgotten by time. Now, the heirs of the old Houses—the Fang, the Rose, and the Star—are watching her. Some want her gone. Others want her controlled. And the three most dangerous men on campus? They’re tied to her fate in ways no one expected. The world was never meant to let the bloodlines unite. But the world doesn’t get a choice anymore.

Half an hour later, Rowan called to say, "Chairman, I have checked, Miss Grainne is safe now, she is taking her son on a trip to Switzerland." "Are you in Switzerland?” Carwyn Levi frowned, the anxiety in his heart finally subsided. "Yes, that's right, Harry's school organizes an event for parents, it's going to Switzerland to see the snowy mountains. Did you forget? This activity is sponsored by you." Rowan said respectfully. Too many things happened in the past few months, so how can you remember something as small as this? Rowan continued: "Yes boss, there's one more thing, I don't know if I should say it or not." Carwyn Levi's face revealed an annoyed look, "If you have something to say, say it right away, don't hide it." Rowan replied: "Boss, Miss Grainne is going to Switzerland this time with Liam William of the William family. According to my investigation, Liam William participates in activities as the father of baby Harry." Carwyn Levi felt like he heard a thunderclap in his ears. Liam William as Harry's father to go to Switzerland with their mother and daughter? Just thinking about how Liam William would most likely be sleeping in the same bed as Grainne, hearing Harry coax an uncle William's voice, Carwyn Levi felt a chill all over her body. He clenched his fists and said to Rowan on the other end of the line: "Book me a plane ticket to Switzerland, tomorrow morning to the hospital and take me to the airport!" I was worried for her safety and rushed here to see if she was safe, but she and Liam William went to Switzerland to see the snow?

Seven years I spent with Jason Shaw, but I never got a ring. Rather, all I received was an invitation to another person's wedding. That day, as a wedding planner, I was at the rehearsal, making last-minute adjustments. Looking up, I saw the man whom I waited every day to reply to my messages, walking down the aisle, arm in arm with another bride. "Her boyfriend had something urgent come up, so I'm filling in for him," he said, standing straight, his tone light, a small smile on his lips. But his eyes couldn't hide the hurt, like a child who lost his favorite toy. As if that wasn't enough, he told me to hand over my wedding plan. He patted me on the shoulder, saying sincerely, "There's no rush for us. We've got plenty of time. I promise I'll give you an even better wedding. Just help me out this time. It's not like I'm not going to marry you." He didn't know that I had revised the wedding plan hundreds of times, even counted and recounted the bouquets seven times. To me, it wasn't mere work—it was a dream I held for five long years. I didn't argue anymore, just quietly stepped aside. Later, I lay alone in a hospital bed, listening to the rain tapping against the window from outside. I counted each drop as the hours slipped through my fingers. Perhaps those who worked so hard to create happiness for others had lost the right to their own happiness.

The story of a girl who was forced to marry a paralazed son of the Haydenon a sick bed but fell in love with him and helped him healed.

On the day I get discharged from the psychiatric hospital, my wife, Lisseth Gabler, speaks up all of a sudden. "When your mom was struck and killed by Donny's car, I was the one who hired a lawyer to defend him." My dad—the most elite doctor in the city—is still driving as he adds coolly, "I was the one who personally forged your mental illness records." Throughout the three-year torture I've received in the psychiatric hospital, I keep recalling the tragic way my mom died when she was struck by Donny Kaufman's car all the time. Meanwhile, my own wife chooses to defend him, whereas my own father has me admitted into a psychiatric hospital. I do my best not to collapse from the sheer shock. In a quivering tone, I ask, "Why?" Dad averts his gaze. Lisseth is the one who answers my question nonchalantly. "It's simple. You have everything. It's pitiful enough for Donny to be labelled as the illegitimate son. Now, I'm giving you two choices. Either patch things up with Donny, or stay in the psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life."

I got pregnant at the same time as a doctor from another department. But right after my nuchal translucency scan, the charge nurse came to see me. "The hospital is short-staffed. Leadership says only one female employee can be pregnant at a time." "This time, the slot goes to Dr. Valerie Stone. You need to terminate yours." I froze. "Dr. Stone and I aren't even in the same department. Our work doesn't overlap. "And I'm a nurse. She's a doctor. Our schedules are completely different." But the charge nurse only tapped stubbornly on my desk. "This is hospital policy. No one gets to be the exception. "Either you terminate the pregnancy, or you transfer to logistics. Your choice." A transfer to logistics meant my career would be over. No promotions. No clinical path. Just a rock-bottom base salary, barely above minimum wage. My fingers slowly tightened. I had worked at that hospital for eight years. I was one of the hardest-working nurses on the front line, and I won performance awards every year. Yet I was not even allowed to be pregnant. I took a breath and looked calmly at the charge nurse. "I agree to transfer to logistics." Less than a week after I left, the whole department fell apart.

After my daughter was seriously injured in a car accident and suffered heavy bleeding, she was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. When it was time to sign the surgical consent form, the nurse suddenly snapped the medical file shut and pressed it down firmly. "Hospital regulations state that only immediate family members can sign the surgical consent form. What proof do you have that you are the child's father?" I was stunned. "She is my biological daughter. Do I still need to prove it to you?" The nurse retorted, "Birth certificates can be forged. How do we know the child wasn't abducted by you? If you cannot prove it, we cannot proceed with the surgery." Seeing the nurse's self-righteous expression, I trembled with anger. "I am signing the surgical consent form for my own biological daughter. Do I need to provide DNA evidence as well?" She curled her lip. "These are hospital regulations. We are being responsible for the patient. If you cannot prove the child is yours, we will report you to the police for child trafficking." After saying that, she actually called security to report it and loudly accused me of being a human trafficker. Report me to the police? I took out my police uniform from my bag and put it on. I'd show her what a split-second response was.

During the long holiday, to accommodate the travel plans of my hospital director wife, I—someone who hadn't taken a single day off all year—begged and groveled, burning through every last bit of goodwill in my department just to scrape together seven days of comp time so I could go with her. But I waited at the airport from morning until night. After a hundred ignored calls, she finally rang me back, her voice totally casual. "The signal's a nightmare out at the scenic area. I forgot to mention—Julian booked the tickets a day early by accident, so we're already at Tamoe Mount! Since you missed your flight anyway, just go back to the hospital and cover some shifts. It's the hospital's busiest time. Didn't you say everyone in your department was upset about you taking time off? Go make it up to them." On the other end of the line, the wind was howling. Her young colleague, laughing brightly, jumped in. "Hey, Rita, I had no problem switching my shifts. I guess he just slacks off too much—no wonder nobody likes him." Not only did she not stand up for me, she actually agreed. "You hear that, Kevin? Learn to play nicer with your coworkers. Stop obsessing over fun all the time. Then later, it'll be easier for me to push through your raise and promotion." I didn't argue or make a scene. I just said "Got it," hung up, and walked straight to the hospital run by her biggest competitor. "Are you still looking for a vice director? I work hard, I don't need weekends off, and as long as I get normal comp time, I'm good."