The Surgeon’s Deadly Choice

Camilla Faye and I were cornered by a cartel gang during a shootout in Colombia.

He came to our rescue—my boyfriend, Chad Colon, the family’s chief surgeon.

He shoved me aside, rushing to hold Camilla—the same woman I had just risked my life to protect, who was completely unscathed. Then he turned on me, his voice cold as he insisted Camilla was in shock and needed him.

After I died, he sobbed uncontrollably at my memorial service.

That brilliant, arrogant doctor never set foot in New York City again.

lips. "Are these three my only options?"

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1

The gunshots were deafening, leaving my head spinning. Through the haze, the acrid stench of gunpowder and blood yanked me back to the present.

The next second, I saw Chad.

"Chad, my head hurts so much!"

I reached for him, my fingers brushing the fine wool of his trousers. I thought I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes, but Camilla Faye—the very woman I was cradling, safe and unharmed in my arms—chose that exact moment to let out a piercing shriek.

"Chad, I'm so scared, it's terrifying here! Are we going to die? I want to go home!"

Her scream shattered his composure.

He dropped to his knees, shoved me aside, and frantically checked Camilla from head to toe. Then, sighing in relief, he clutched her tightly to his chest.

Instinctively, I grabbed his trouser leg. "Don't go."

Chad's face turned to ice. He shot me a venomous glare. "God, Scarlett, can't you see? It's a flesh wound. Marcus can patch you up. But Camilla is terrified. She needs me right now!"

Before he could finish, another volley of gunfire erupted around us.

Chad violently shook my hand off and turned to leave, half-carrying Camilla.

My head throbbed as if it would split open, and I had no strength left to argue. I could only watch them disappear into the smoke.

I wanted to scream. Chad, what more do you want? I protected her. I tolerated her. All because you said she was like a sister. So why do you always assume I’m the villain?

I had once craved his love, his approval. But I would never again humble myself to beg for it.

God, my head… it hurts so much. Chad… I’m so cold. Just hold me. Please?

...

A group of men in tactical vests swarmed around me. I knew them. My men. The moment they found me, they moved me to a secure area.

Chad was not among them.

He never came back for me.

Dr. Marcus desperately performed CPR, but it was to no avail. As the ECG flatlined, my soul slowly drifted from my broken body.

I watched my men discreetly wipe tears from their eyes. They formed a line, bowing their heads in a final, somber tribute.