The following morning, Kristina woke with a dry throat. She pushed herself upright with effort, intent on getting a glass of water.
A dull soreness lingered through her back and limbs, and fragments of the night before surged back into her thoughts.
She faintly remembered climbing onto a man and tugging off his clothes, only for him to lift her up and drop her straight into the bathtub.
Water had splashed across her body, cool and invigorating.
Pressing her fingers to her temple, Kristina hesitated to acknowledge the truth that she had spent the night with a male escort.
In her mind, the man's face gradually came into focus, stirring an odd sense of recognition.
Still, she had no luxury to dwell on it. The smartest move now was to leave at once.
The outfit she had worn the previous night was no longer suitable, so she pulled the blanket around herself, planning to locate a robe.
The moment her feet touched the floor, the door swung open.
A man stepped inside, a paper bag held in his hand.
Clad in an impeccably tailored suit, he carried himself with effortless poise and command, entirely unlike the sort of male escort who lingered in nightclubs and survived by sleeping with clients.
"You're awake." His gaze rested on her for a brief moment, and his voice emerged low, calm, and faintly alluring. "I brought fresh clothes. They've already been washed and dried. Change into them."
He placed the paper bag beside the bed and, without pausing, turned and walked out of the room.
Those few seconds were enough for Kristina to recognize the familiar face. Braeden.
In the family photograph taken at the Cooper estate, he had stood at the outermost edge, yet he remained the most striking and unforgettable figure in the entire portrait.
So the man she had slept with the previous night had not been a male escort but Braeden instead?
The realization only made the situation more difficult for her to accept.
She wanted no further connection with anyone from the Cooper family.
Inside the paper bag lay a simple dress along with a set of underwear.
To her surprise, the size suited her perfectly.
She dressed quickly. When she opened the door and stepped outside, she saw Braeden seated in the living room, casually scrolling through something on his tablet.
Soft morning light settled over his sharply defined features, outlining the hard angle of his jaw. His appearance was strikingly attractive and undeniably sensual, yet a faint aura of danger lingered around him.
On the gentle rise of his Adam's apple, the bite marks remained clearly visible, tinted red, their contrast oddly vivid.
"Braeden..." she greeted in a low voice.
His eyes darkened slightly, and a faint, unreadable smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "So you recognized me?"
Kristina nodded, then hurriedly shook her head. "Last night, I didn't know it was you."
She quickly added, "I was drunk. It was only an accident. We're both adults, after all. There's no need to make a big deal out of it."
Braeden leaned back against the couch. Although his posture appeared loose and unrestrained, an indefinable presence around him made others feel uneasy.
"You're surprisingly broad-minded," he teased. "You slept with your husband's uncle, yet you behaved as though nothing occurred."
For the first time, Kristina found herself unable to decipher someone's thoughts or intentions. A trace of coldness settled over her expression.
"I'm already preparing to divorce Matthew..."
Kristina stopped there. The lingering fog from her hangover finally lifted from her mind.
Only then did she realize the man she had truly married was Braeden.
A trace of warmth returned to her gaze; the purpose behind it was perfectly clear.
"What happened last night will stay between us. No one else will hear a word," she said quickly. "But there's something I need you to agree to."
Her abrupt shift in tone made his brows knit faintly together. "Go ahead," he replied.
"Please come to the courthouse at three this afternoon. I'll be waiting there."
Once the words left her mouth, she gave him no opportunity to refuse. Lifting the edge of her dress, she rushed out of the room.
The moment she stepped out of the hotel, her phone rang. Mabel was calling.
"Kristina, where did you disappear to last night? I kept calling you, but you never answered. All I got was a message saying you were leaving. Didn't any of those eight escorts catch your interest?"
Kristina glanced at her phone and confirmed that she had indeed sent a reply, though the details escaped her memory. She dismissed the matter with a vague response.
Mabel had her own concerns and did not pursue the subject. "Can you come to Wellness Hospital? There's a complicated patient here, and the specialists we brought in can't manage it. The family is already causing a commotion."
Wellness Hospital belonged to Kristina, though Mabel had been in charge of running it for the past three years. If it were not something she truly could not resolve, she would never have disturbed Kristina.
"Alright. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Kristina answered.
After three years, Kristina finally slipped back into surgical scrubs, and an unfamiliar ease settled over her, as though she had finally stepped back into her true self.
The operation lasted two hours, and everything went flawlessly.
Once it ended, Kristina quietly left through the side exit.
Mabel, who had observed the entire procedure through the video feed, lifted her thumb in praise. "Looks like you haven't lost your edge at all, Mr. Kirk. You're still a brilliant physician."
Kristina shot her a glance. "Cut the Kristina cast her a sideways look. "Enough with the compliments. When did I ever lose my edge?"
"Never!" Mabel laughed, looping her arm through Kristina's and blinking at her with playful mischief. "There's another thing. Someone posted an offer on the internal network—fifty million for Mr. Kirk to perform a heart surgery. Want to guess who it is?"
For three years of marriage, Kristina had poured all her effort into being the perfect wife.
During that time, the identity she used as the doctor known as "Mr. Kirk" had long been inactive.
Now that she had returned, the dealings on the internal network would naturally resume as well.
"Who?" Kristina asked.
"Matthew!"
