Vince Mcmahon Plastic Surgery

The Sullivan brothers had always treated me like I was their whole world. That changed the day I was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor. The pain soon grew unbearable, and I was told I might lose my memories if I opted for surgery. I reached out to the brothers. I did not want to forget them, and I needed their help. However, when the call connected, the only thing I heard was an icy, sharp voice. "Summer, it's Yvonne's birthday today. Can you not ruin it for once?" I blacked out from the pain. When I woke up in the hospital, there was a message from Yvonne on my phone. "Summer, the boys gave me these lucky charms for protection." Attached was a photo of three silver pendants, each engraved with the brothers' initials. I knew those pendants well. I had spent seven hours in the freezing rain just to get them blessed. That was the moment I gave up. I went abroad alone for the surgery, and with it, all my memories of the brothers faded away. I completely forgot about them until one day, three strangers knocked on my door, begging like madmen for my forgiveness.

“Just stay married to me for three years. After that, we divorce. In return, I’ll help you destroy your husband and the woman who took your child.” I agreed. Not because I was weak. But because I survived. I was once a devoted wife. Obedient. Loyal. Pregnant with a child I believed would save my marriage. Then his first love returned, and everything I trusted turned to blood and betrayal. We were rushed to the same hospital. I was bleeding. She was crying in his arms. There was only one operating room left. He chose her. He wheeled his mistress, his first love, into surgery and left me behind to miscarry alone. I lost my baby on a cold hospital bed while my husband held another woman’s hand. I divorced him. But some wounds do not heal. They sharpen. Now I have a contract marriage, a man with no love to give, and a plan written in patience and pain. I will take everything my ex-husband values, piece by piece, and make him beg for what he threw away. Forgiveness is for the dead. And I am very much alive. Watch out, husband. I will ruin you.

The mother of Mr. Burr, the hospital director, was critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My wife, wanting to help her beloved crush, Cedric Grey, take the spotlight, deliberately kept the surgery time from me. By the time I finally arrived—late, Mr. Burr stopped me from entering the operating room and scolded me harshly for being unprofessional and unethical. Once I realized what my wife was doing, I handed the lead surgeon position over to her beloved crush. “Well, since you're so eager to shine,” I said coldly, “you’d better not screw it up.” The nurses tried to talk me out of it. They said I was being impulsive, that this was a rare chance to prove myself. However, none of them knew that I was the only doctor in the entire country capable of performing this rare and complex heart valve surgery. Even if Cedric managed to buy time with some miracle drug and made it look like the patient was improving, without my diagnosis and surgical skills, the operation was doomed to fail. And when that happens, he’d be held responsible. As for my wife, her blind favoritism would come back to haunt her.

I was dying of kidney failure. Henry Colombo—the ruthless Mafia heir who once swore he’d burn the world to keep me alive— found me a donor. But the price… was her. Susan Miller, the woman who’d always lingered between us, smiled as she set her terms: “Be mine for one month. Pretend you love me—and I’ll save her life.” He agreed. He said it was just to save me. But every lie, every kiss, every photo she posted online was another nail in my coffin. Each time the surgery drew near, she invented a new delay—a fever, a nightmare, a tender bruise. And Henry believed her. He always believed her. The night my heart flatlined on the operating table, he was across the city, feeding her grapes under candlelight, whispering her name—the name of the woman who had let me die. When he finally learned the truth—that every tear she shed was rehearsed, every promise she made was poison— he destroyed everything. Her lies. Her wealth. Her family name. His own empire. But none of it brought me back.

Van and Demani's story began like any other typical love story you read in books or watch in movies. They met, fell in love, got married, and planned a future together. They seemed perfect for each other, and their family even called them "the perfect couple." But like any regular married couple, Van and Demani went through a series of arguments and misunderstandings. They had their ups and downs, too. But because they loved each other so much, they tried to get through it all, hand in hand. Until Demani had a miscarriage... and Van cheated on their marriage. From there, everything began to unravel. They couldn’t fix their problems, and eventually, they separated. They went through a bitter breakup, and Demani thought she would never hear from her husband again. Until two years later, Demani received a letter from Van’s lawyer. Van had been involved in an accident and needed surgery in the United States. One of the requirements for him to leave was to have a family member accompany him. And who else could it be but Demani? They were technically still married because Van had never filed for annulment. Despite her doubts, Demani agreed to help. But there was one condition: They would legally separate after the surgery. But Van had other plans...

My mother fell critically ill and was rushed to the hospital. Desperate, I knelt before my fiancé—the department's chief surgeon—and begged him to take charge of her operation. But outside the ICU, he was carefully tending to a scraped knee. Lucy Wendell's scraped knee, to be exact. Just as I was drowning in hopelessness, Cameron Mitchell—the hospital director and my childhood friend—pushed open the operating room doors and handed me a marriage proposal. "Marry me, and I'll personally perform your mother's surgery." With trembling hands, I signed my name, clinging to the last shred of hope that she could be saved. But she never made it through that stormy night. Cameron handled all the funeral arrangements himself, and our wedding proceeded as scheduled. Seven years later, in the hushed silence of the hospital archives, I overheard Cameron speaking with the deputy director. "Cameron, why did you transfer your mother-in-law's organ to Lucy's mother during that surgery? Weren't you afraid of getting caught?" "I owed Lucy," he replied. "If I hadn't hesitated back then, Lucy never would've chosen medical aid work in Africa… and her mother wouldn't have fallen ill from the grief."

Five years of love, loyalty, and promises—destroyed in one wedding vow. Judy believed Clark was the man she would spend her life with. After dating for five years, meeting his family, and planning their wedding, she thought love was enough. She was wrong. On the day she was supposed to be his bride, Judy watched Clark marry his rich ex-girlfriend instead—leaving her humiliated, heartbroken, and mocked by the world. As if that wasn’t enough, Judy’s mother’s life hangs on a thread, with a surgery bill of $45,000 she can’t afford. When Clark, the man who promised to help her, turns his back on her completely, Judy hits rock bottom. That’s when she meets David Jones—a ruthless billionaire CEO and Clark’s sworn business rival. Cold. Powerful. Dangerous. David offers her a deal: A one-year contract marriage. No love. No emotions. In return, he will pay for her mother’s surgery. Judy agrees—not just to save her mother, but to take revenge on the man who betrayed her. What starts as a loveless contract soon turns into a dangerous game of desire, power, and buried secrets. As Judy steps into the world of wealth and revenge, she must decide— Is she just using David for survival… Or is she slowly falling for the man she was never supposed to love?

I gave birth prematurely, just twenty days before the due date. Two hours after I entered the surgery room, I had a stillborn baby. I did not cry at all. I did not even spare a glance at the dead baby. I endured the pain from childbirth and calmly walked into the hospital nursery. After the door was tightly shut, I turned down the temperature of the air-conditioning. The temperature inside the nursery would be too cold for newborns to bear after an hour. The doctors and parents were begging me on their knees to let their babies live. They screamed and cried. They said I was a mother and hoped that I would understand. Instead, I laughed and said, “Yes, I was a mother. But my baby died!” The gynecologist knelt on the floor and begged, “We may be at fault for not being able to save your baby, but these babies are innocent! “Please don’t be reckless just because you lost your baby! You’re so young. You’ll have more babies in the future.” I gritted my teeth and roared, “But my baby isn’t dead! “She’s still alive. I’ll give you one hour. Bring her back to me!” But I was unsure if she would still be alive after an hour.

My Alpha King mate Ethan Stone didn't know that our four-year-old daughter Lily suffered from kidney failure. Before her surgery, her greatest wish was for her father to take her to the amusement park on her birthday. She wanted to spend time with him alone. I knelt before Ethan Stone, begging him to fulfill our daughter's wish. He promised he would. But on her birthday, Lily waited in the cold wind for him. She waited until she coughed up blood and fainted, yet he never showed up. Her condition worsened, and the emergency treatment failed. Before she died, she asked me with tears in her eyes, "Mommy, why does Daddy like Victoria's daughter Emma but not me? Am I not good enough?" My daughter left this world with regret in her heart! From her small hand fell a phone, playing a video. In the video, her father had rented out the largest amusement park in town and was celebrating a birthday with Victoria's daughter. After her daughter died, Olivia completely gave up and left Ethan, but the high-handed Alpha King looked for Olivia all over the world, begging her to give him another chance.

My son, Andy, had a sudden liver failure and needed a liver transplant. The only compatible match was my wife, Vivian Grant. I had begged her for 20 days to give Andy a liver transplant. Finally, she caved in. I waited the entire day in front of the operating theater, but she didn’t appear. On the same day, her first love, Jason Sanderson posted on his social media. [20th day of traveling around the world. Dr. Grant had given up her career to help fulfil my son's dream of traveling the world.] Only then did I find out that Vivian had been travelling the world with Jason and his son, Luke, since day one. That night, I received a call from Vivian. "Charlie, Luke had gotten full marks on his exam. His wish was to have his Daddy and Mommy travel around the world with him. As you know, he doesn't have a Mommy. I couldn't bear to watch him not get his wish. "We'll return in three days. We can have the surgery for Andy then." She had no idea that what awaited her at the hospital was Andy's lifeless body.