The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113

Daniel’s POV:

The name hit me like a scalpel to the chest.

Blake Morrison.

I knew exactly who he was.

Last year’s admissions cycle, number forty-seven on the acceptance list. MCAT score barely above the threshold, undergraduate GPA hovering at 3.6, recommendation letters that praised his persistence more than his brilliance.

The kind of student who made it through on sheer determination rather than natural aptitude.

I’d actually considered him for my research team. There was value in tenacity, after all. The medical field needed workers as much as it needed geniuses.

“You know Blake Morrison?” Emma’s voice was quieter now. “He mentioned applying to your lab once.”

I walked to the couch, each step measured and controlled.

“Morrison?” I repeated the name as if searching my memory, keeping my tone carefully neutral. “I don’t recall that student.”

It was a lie. Emma didn’t need to know that I remembered every detail of Blake Morrison’s application, or that I’d actually been impressed by

his determination.

She didn’t need to know that jealousy was currently eating through my composure like sepsis through an untreated wound.

“I receive many applications each year, Emma. If he didn’t make it into my program, his qualifications likely didn’t meet the requirements.”

The relief on her face was immediate.

She shifted position, adjusting how she was kneeling at the coffee table, and several strands of her hair slid forward over her shoulder.

How the lamplight caught the fine strands of her hair.

I reached out slowly, carefully, and gathered the loose strands of her hair. My fingers brushed against the silk as I lifted it away from my leg and guided it back over her shoulder, where it belonged.

Emma startled slightly at the contact, looking up with those blue green eyes widening. A pink flush spread across her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and the breathless quality of her voice did absolutely nothing to calm the chaos in my bloodstream.

“You’re welcome, I managed, and my voice sounded rougher than I intended.

For a moment, we just looked at each other. The research papers were forgotten Blake Morrison’s annotations were irrelevant. The whole world

Chapter 113

narrowed down to this: Emma’s flushed face, her quick breathing, the way she was looking at me.

Then she blinked and turned back to the papers, breaking the spell.

Emma reached for the last paper-one of my earliest publications on minimally invasive cardiac surgery-and closed the folder with a soft thud

“Daniel.” My name in her voice always affected me. “I spent most of today reading through your work.”

I waited, uncertain where this was going.

“I knew you were an excellent surgeon,” she continued, her eyes never leaving mine. “Everyone knows that. But I didn’t really understand…”

She paused, searching for words. “And it wasn’t until today-going through publication after publication-that I truly grasped how extraordinary your work is.”

Her voice softened, and the admiration in her expression was so genuine it made my chest constrict.

“You’ve changed so many lives, Daniel. Saved so many people.” She swallowed, and I saw the sheen of emotion in her eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

I’m proud of you.

Four simple words that shouldn’t have affected me this much.

I’d won awards, delivered keynote speeches at international conferences, been praised by the most respected names in cardiac surgery. None of it had ever hit me the way these four words did.

Heat flooded my face, and I felt the telltale warmth spreading up my neck to my ears.

For the first time in my life-perhaps in my entire thirty-one years-1 found myself thinking that maybe I should reconcile with my

grandfather.

David Prescott Sr., with his iron discipline and impossible standards, the man who made my childhood a series of tests I could never quite pass

perfectly enough.

If enduring those brutal years of training, those lonely nights of studying while other children played, those constant reminders that adequate was never enough-if all of that suffering was necessary to earn this moment, this look in Emma’s eyes, then perhaps it was worth it.

I turned my face slightly away, trying to compose myself, but I could feel the smile tugging at my lips-uncontrollable, genuine.

“Emma,” I said, once I trusted my voice again. “About these notes.”

She glanced down at Morrison’s materials, and I saw doubt flicker across her face.

“While I appreciate this student’s… enthusiasm, I continued carefully, “I’ve noticed several maccuracies in his annotations

Emma’s eyes widened with concern. Really? Where?”

“Medical research evolves quickly. Some of the conclusions drawn in these papers have already been revised or contradicted by newer data

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Chapter 113

wasn’t entirely a lie-research did evolve. Morrison’s notes weren’t technically wrong, just… incomplete. “These could potentially mislead your project.”

I paused, letting that sink in, then offered what I hoped sounded like a casual suggestion: “If you’d like, I could prepare a more current set of notes for you. Since I’m the original author, I can provide the most accurate context and recent developments.

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