The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 113

The sweet, innocent voice seemed completely useless this time. If anything, Zoey's comforting words made Ferris's expression even darker.

Maybe in his eyes, as long as an outsider was present, I was supposed to know my place and give him face no matter how angry I was—especially since that outsider was Zoey.

After all, setting aside the fact that he was legally my husband, in the massive system of Capital General, everyone who saw him had to respectfully call him Director Sterling.

For a lowly intern like me to be so insolent was a direct blow to his ego.

But if I gave him face, who was going to stand up for Leon?

The man had been dragged into this mess and wronged just to protect me. How could I turn a blind eye to that?

"Let me ask you, what do you mean I'm acting impulsively?" Ferris suddenly raised his voice, his tone laced with heavy displeasure. "That I'm letting personal feelings cloud my judgment?"

Look at that. I spoke a tiny bit of truth, and he entirely dropped the respectful title of "Dr. Hayes."

I glanced at Zoey standing to the side, then back at Ferris, my tone perfectly level. "Dr. Sterling went to my room first thing in the morning and painstakingly urged me to take two days off. What was your motive?"

At those words, both Ferris and Zoey looked shocked. Ferris was so choked up he couldn't form an answer, while Zoey anxiously tried to explain, "You misunderstood, Selena. Ferris just didn't want The Anonymous Whistleblower Report to blow up, so he..."

"Is Dr. Zeller going to take time off?" I interrupted her, shifting my gaze to the suddenly silent Ferris. "Dr. Sterling, you're better off managing your Department of Neurosurgery. We don't need you worrying about the Department of Anesthesiology," I said calmly.

That line was a direct jab at his earlier remark about his department "not being afraid of trouble."

Leaving those words behind, I pushed the door open and walked out, faintly hearing the young woman's self-blaming voice from inside. "I'm so sorry, Ferris. It seems I said the wrong thing again."

Not at all.

I had genuinely said it to defend Leon.

As soon as I returned to the department, the head nurse rushed over, handing me an ice pack. "How did it go? Did you decide how to handle this?" she asked in a low voice.

Against people like that, a civilized man like Leon wouldn't stand a chance. The head nurse was right—if this couple was dead set on destroying us, both of us would be in deep trouble.

I was just an intern already drowning in controversy; a few more rumors wouldn't ruin me. But if I caused Leon to get disciplined or even fired, my guilt would be insurmountable.

No. Before this situation escalated any further, I had to figure out a solution.

As my fingers touched the ice pack, I felt the swollen bump on my bruised forehead, and suddenly, an idea sparked in my mind.

At seven-thirty that evening, long after my shift ended, I arrived at the VIP ward carrying a custom, premium fruit basket. When I knocked and entered, Terrence—the same man Leon had lifted by the collar—was currently doing a goofy seaweed dance beside the hospital bed. The atmosphere was surprisingly wholesome.

It was a far cry from the gangster vibe the head nurse had described.

Hearing the knock, the couple turned toward me simultaneously. Before I could even speak, Terrence's face fell. "Aren't you that anesthesiology intern with the character issues? What are you doing here?"