The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 151

"Liar?"

Ferris emphasized the word, his tone heavy and deliberate.

It was a stark contrast to his usual breezy indifference.

But why was he calling me a liar?

Looking back on our three years of marriage, I had always centered my entire life around Ferris. I had been nothing but polite to the entire Sterling family and never kept any secrets from him. How did I suddenly earn the title of a liar?

I stared at the man in front of me, baffled, and cut straight to the chase. "Dr. Sterling, it sounds like you're implying something."

Ferris held my gaze, the corners of his mouth turning down into a mocking scoff.

Right. I get it. He just wanted to insult me.

But why? He had taken Zoey's side during the skiing accident, and now that he was done having fun, he still couldn't resist throwing a jab my way. Just because the Hayes family owed him a favor, did that give him the right to humiliate me over and over again?

I swallowed my resentment and kept my expression perfectly polite. "Excuse me."

If I couldn't afford to offend him, I could at least walk away.

I dragged my injured left foot forward.

Just then, a waiter carrying two heavy crates of drinks hurried past. His vision obscured by the boxes, he didn't see me in his path. I scrambled backward to get out of the way, but my sprained ankle completely gave out.

Before I hit the floor, a hand caught me.

I knew that hand. The long, elegant fingers and perfectly proportioned joints belonged to no one else but Ferris.

He was too close. The sharp scent of cedarwood mixed with alcohol washed over me, sending a jolt down my spine. I immediately shoved him away, putting distance between us. Just then, Zoey's soft, sweet voice drifted over from behind.

Zoey didn't say anything, but the moment the words left my mouth, she visibly relaxed. She couldn't even hide the triumphant gleam in her eyes.

She clearly saw me as her rival.

But she was overthinking it. I might be Mrs. Sterling in name—and legally protected, at that—but in Ferris's eyes, I was absolutely nothing compared to his Little Mischief.

The party dragged on until eleven o'clock.

By the time I finally collapsed into bed, I was completely exhausted. The dull throb in my medicated ankle was a relentless reminder of how unloved I truly was.

I pulled the covers over my head, hiding in the dark, terrified someone might see the tears silently slipping down my cheeks.

Exhaustion eventually took over, and I fell into a heavy sleep. Hours later, the relentless buzzing of my phone violently yanked me awake.

I fumbled for the device, squinting through bleary eyes. The screen flashed with the caller ID: Vivian.