My Secret Husband Is My Cold Boss novel Chapter 60

"Mom, I already moved into a new place," Wendy interrupted smoothly.

A heavy, stunned silence suffocated the line for several long seconds.

"You found an apartment that quickly?" Kimberly sounded genuinely shocked.

"Yes."

Catching the crushing disappointment radiating through the phone, Wendy softened her tone. "I'll come visit for your birthday, Mom. We'll have dinner then."

"Oh... alright then." Kimberly sounded marginally brighter.

Right before his shift ended, Sampson was violently dragged into a brutal emergency surgery.

Scrubbing in, he fired off a rapid text to Wendy: [Emergency aortic dissection. Share your Uber tracking link with me. Go to sleep early.]

Aortic dissections guaranteed a minimum eight-hour bloodbath in the OR. She read the message right as she was changing into her street clothes to head home.

She shot back a quick confirmation before opening her rideshare app.

Wesley Thorne had snagged the coveted role of first assistant for the marathon surgery.

Watching his god-like Attending obsessively checking his phone all the way to the sterile corridor...

Wesley couldn't resist throwing a cocky grin. "Reporting in to the boss at home, Director?"

Sampson smoothly pocketed his phone, turning his head to fix Wesley with a lethally calm stare.

"Did you enjoy the massager I bought you?"

"Huh?"

Wesley blinked, completely thrown off guard. "Yeah, it's great."

"Then stop slacking and focus."

Wendy had originally planned to drag Jade to the mall to hunt down a decent swimsuit for the retreat.

Unfortunately, Jade was tied down with a massive corporate trial out of state.

She had no choice but to head straight home.

They stayed on a call for her entire commute.

"Babe, absolutely do not buy your own swimsuit. I already bookmarked this stunning new release, I'm buying it for you," Jade demanded.

Jade knew exactly who Wendy was sharing a hotel with this weekend.

And there was absolutely no way Wendy was wearing whatever ungodly piece of fabric Jade picked out.

"Thanks, but I'm going to hard pass on that," Wendy replied dryly.

The living room lights were still blazing.

His immediate thought was that she was still awake.

But the room was completely empty, save for a mountain of scattered documents absolutely burying the coffee table.

He washed his hands, walked over, and picked up a few sheets. It was her clinical research and handwritten notes.

Binder rings lay open, loose-leaf paper blanketing every inch of the glass surface.

He meticulously collated and restacked the files into perfect order before finally retreating to his bedroom.

The next morning, a blaring phone call violently woke Wendy up.

The property transfer must have leaked her data, because an army of relentless interior design telemarketers had been harassing her for days.

"Not interested, thanks."

She realized she had left her water glass on the coffee table the night before.

Her throat parched, she stumbled out of her bedroom, yawning widely.

Pushing the door open, she was immediately greeted by an incredibly bizarre sight—