Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 82

Chapter 82

Chapter 82

BIANCA

Each case was different, challenging, requiring the full range of skills I’d spent years developing. And each successful treatment felt like proof that I belonged here, that I was genuinely good at this work. And this was something that I was starting to believe

1. in.

By noon, I was starving and my feet hurt despite the comfortable shoes I’d invested in.

James found me in the break room wolfing down a sandwich I’d brought from home.

“Cafeteria run,” he announced. “Sarah’s orders. You need real food, not whatever sad desk lunch you packed.”

“This is fine-”

“It’s a peanut butter sandwich that looks like it’s been in your bag since yesterday. Come on, the cafeteria here is actually good. Plus, there’s prime people–watching opportunities.”

I let him drag me to the elevator, too tired to argue.

The cafeteria was on the second floor, a bright space with floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking a courtyard garden. The food options were extensive–a salad bar, hot entrees, a grill station, even a sushi counter.

Nothing like the sad vending machines that had sustained me through most shifts at my old hospital.

“See?” James said smugly. “Real food. Grab whatever you want–lunch is on me. Consider it a welcome–to–the–department gift.

11

We loaded our trays and found a table near the windows. I’d just taken my first bite of what was genuinely excellent pad thai when I overheard the conversation at the next table.

Two doctors in surgical scrubs, speaking in low voices that suggested confidential discussion.

“–finally got the consult results back on the council member’s son,” one was saying. “Three different curse specialists, and none of them can figure out how to break it completely.”

“How old is the kid?” the other asked.

“Five. Can you imagine? Some bastard cursed a five–year–old with advanced blood work. The ethics alone-”

“What kind of symptoms?”

“Seizures, organ deterioration, magical instability. They’ve been managing it with temporary fixes, but without breaking the curse at its source, he’s not going to make it past adolescence.”

My heart clenched with sympathy. A cursed child, suffering while multiple specialists failed to help him. That could have been any of my patients, could have been Louis if I hadn’t figured out his curse.

Louis.

The thought came unbidden, unwelcome. Louis had been cursed with sophisticated blood magic. Louis was five years old. Louis’s father had enough resources to bring in multiple specialists—

No. That was paranoid thinking. Lots of wealthy families hired multiple specialists. Lots of children suffered from curses. It

didn’t mean

“Blanca?” James was waving a hand in front of my face. “You okay? You zoned out completely.”

“Sorry. Just thinking about a patient.

“Eforced myself to focus on my food, to push away the uncomfortable connections my

Chapter 82

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mind was making.

Rivera would have told me if Louis was the council member’s son everyone was gossiping about. We were together now, building a life, he wouldn’t keep something that significant secret.

Right?

“You look exhausted,” James observed. “First days are brutal. How are you holding up?”

“I’m good. Tired, but good.” I smiled at him. “Thank you for this. For making me feel welcome, for the lunch, for everything.”

“Hey, we take care of our own here. And you, Dr. Morrison, are definitely one of ours now.” He raised his water glass in a toast. ‘ To your first day of many. May they all be this successful and significantly less stressful.”

We clinked glasses, and I let myself relax into the moment. This was my life now. These were my colleagues, my hospital, my purpose.

Whatever secrets Rivera might be keeping, whatever connections I might be imagining–they didn’t change the fundamental truth that I’d built something real here.

And I wasn’t going to let paranoia destroy it.

18

The rest of my shift passed quickly. More patients, more procedures, more opportunities to prove my competence to a department that was quickly becoming my professional home.

By the time 7 PM rolled around, I was beyond exhausted. But it was the good kind of tired, the kind that came from meaningful work well done.

I changed out of my scrubs in the locker room, pulling on jeans and a comfortable sweater, and headed for the main entrance.

And stopped short when I saw Rivera leaning against his car in the pickup area, Louis bouncing excitedly beside him.

“Mummy!” Louis shouted when he spotted me, breaking free of his father’s hand to run toward the entrance. “Mummy, we came to pick you up! Did you fix people with magic? Dad said you were going to use your special doctor magic to make sick people better!”

I caught him as he launched himself at me, his small arms wrapping around my waist with the kind of enthusiasm only five–year -olds possessed.

“I did fix some people,” I confirmed, ruffling his hair. “It was a very good first day.”

Rivera approached more slowly, his expression soft as he watched us.

“Thought you might appreciate a ride home,” he said. “And someone was very insistent about being here when you finished “

“I wanted to be the first to ask about your day,” Louis explained seriously. “That’s what families do. They ask about each other’s days and care about the answers.”

My throat went tight with emotion. “That’s exactly what families do, sweetheart. Thank you for caring.”

Rivera took my work bag, slinging it over his shoulder as naturally as if we’d been doing this for years.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home and fed. Louis and I attempted to cook dinner, and it’s either going to be delicious or a disaster. We’re not quite sure which yet.”

The drive home was filled with Louis’s chatter about his day at kindergarten–something about LEGO construction and a dispute over whose tower was taller. I let his voice wash over me, a comforting soundtrack to the domesticity of this moment.

Chapter 82

BIANCA

Each case was different, challenging, requiring the full range of skills I’d spent years developing. And each successful treatme felt like proof that I belonged here, that I was genuinely good at this work. And this was something that I was starting to belie

1. in.

By noon, I was starving and my feet hurt despite the comfortable shoes I’d invested in.

James found me in the break room wolfing down a sandwich I’d brought from home.

“Cafeteria run,” he announced. “Sarah’s orders. You need real food, not whatever sad desk lunch you packed.”

“This is fine-”

“It’s a peanut butter sandwich that looks like it’s been in your bag since yesterday. Come on, the cafeteria here is actually good Plus, there’s prime people–watching opportunities.”

I let him drag me to the elevator, too tired to argue.

The cafeteria was on the second floor, a bright space with floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking a courtyard garden. The food options were extensive—a salad bar, hot entrees, a grill station, even a sushi counter.

Nothing like the sad vending machines that had sustained me through most shifts at my old hospital.

“See?” James said smugly. “Real food. Grab whatever you want–lunch is on me. Consider it a welcome–to–the–department gi

We loaded our trays and found a table near the windows. I’d just taken my first bite of what was genuinely excellent pad thai when I overheard the conversation at the next table.

Two doctors in surgical scrubs, speaking in low voices that suggested confidential discussion.

11

“-finally got the consult results back on the council member’s son,” one was saying. “Three different curse specialists, and none of them can figure out how to break it completely.”

“How old is the kid?” the other asked.

“Five. Can you imagine? Some bastard cursed a five–year–old with advanced blood work. The ethics alone-

“What kind of symptoms?”

“Seizures, organ deterioration, magical instability. They’ve been managing it with temporary fixes, but without breaking the curse at its source, he’s not going to make it past adolescence.”

My heart clenched with sympathy. A cursed child, suffering while multiple specialists failed to help him. That could have been. any of my patients, could have been Louis if I hadn’t figured out his curse.

Louis.

The thought came unbidden, unwelcome. Louis had been cursed with sophisticated blood magle, Louis was five years old. Louis’s father had enough resources to bring in multiple specialists

No. That was paranoid thinking. Lots of wealthy families hired multiple specialists. Lots of children suffered from curses. It

didn’t mean

“Blanca?” Janies was waving a hand in front of my face. “You okay? You zoned our completely,

“Sorry, Just thinking about a patient “I ford myself in focus on my food, to push way the une Hortable connections my

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