A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 18

"Everyone, please step back! We have emergency trauma patients who need immediate attention. Dr. Shultz doesn't have time right now!" the nurse shouted.

"Oh! Well, make way then! Don't hold up the doctor!" an older woman with a booming voice yelled out, and the crowd immediately parted, shuffling back to their spots in line.

Dr. Shultz was escorted into the urgent trauma room. The moment she stepped inside, her sharp eyes took in a scene that could only be described as earth-shattering. Five grown men were crowding the clinic's resident surgeon.

One was Miles Bauer. He had a gash on his forehead and was pressing a wad of tissues against it, blood seeping through his fingers. Another man had a swollen red eye and hair covered in dust—she didn't recognize him. The other three were Holden Lockwood and his two closest friends.

Holden's right arm was resting limply on the examination table. By the looks of it, he was the one who needed his bone set.

Three years had passed, and Holden's appearance had changed drastically. He was wearing a black baseball cap pulled down low, hiding half of his sharp eyebrows, along with a fitted black t-shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders and bulging muscles. He paired it with black trousers and black sneakers. He looked as if he were dressed for a funeral. It was a stark contrast to the slick, arrogant corporate heir aesthetic he used to flaunt.

Looking closely at his face, she noticed the youthful arrogance was gone. His features looked hardened, almost weathered, radiating a grim, intimidating maturity. There was a cold, haughty distance about him now, tinged with an unmistakable violent edge, as if the entire world had wronged him. He looked like a man harboring a blood feud.

Yet, even though fate had dragged the very people who shouldn't exist in her world right to her doorstep, she looked at them and felt... nothing. They might as well have been dead. In this doctor's eyes, seeing a ghost from a past life didn't stir up a single ripple in her heart.

The trauma surgeon practically jumped out of his chair. "Dr. Shultz, please, take a seat."

The surgeon quickly moved to another station to stitch up Miles's forehead.

Dr. Shultz nodded and sat down, pulling on a fresh pair of surgical gloves. She palpated Holden's immobilized arm on the table, immediately diagnosing the issue. Lifting his forearm with her left hand, she gripped his palm firmly with her right. With slow, deliberate movements, she massaged the tendons and aligned the bone.

Crack!

Done. She let go, intentionally lowering her voice to sound older and raspy. "It's set. Try moving it."

Winifred had no idea how he had recognized her, but she truly didn't care that he was here. Her heart remained a stagnant pool. She stood up to leave.

Suddenly, a dark shadow blocked the door. Holden's lazy, arrogant drawl drifted down from above her. "To think... you actually fooled me! Hah!"

"Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about."

The moment the words left her mouth, a large hand lunged for her face. Winifred jerked her head back with lightning speed to protect her mask. At the same time, she lashed out with a backhand strike, smacking the baseball cap right off his head.

A blinding flash of white hit her eyes.

She looked up, only to find herself staring at a perfectly bald head.