Who Knew My Assigned Mechanic Husband Was a Big Shot? novel Chapter 15

Tristan strutted in, a wildly arrogant grin plastered on his face. "See? I told you there'd be consequences for rejecting me."

Tristan had specifically gone to his father, demanding he rip the surgical opportunity away from Sloane.

Director York had initially refused, knowing the hospital couldn't just arbitrarily strip a doctor of their surgical rights.

But Tristan had thrown a massive tantrum, eventually threatening to expose his father's recent lucrative kickbacks from a corrupt medical equipment supplier.

Furious and shaking, York had no choice but to cave to the blackmail from his own worthless son.

And so he had agreed.

"I won't force myself on you this time," Tristan sneered, reveling in his perceived victory. "You can come to me. If you want back in on that surgery, I'll be waiting in my hotel suite tonight."

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. "Make sure you scrub up nice and wear that fruity perfume. It drives me crazy."

Sloane's fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, her hand twitching with the overwhelming urge to slap the smirk right off his face.

But Tristan caught her wrist mid-air, shoving her brutally against the edge of the conference table.

His hot, disgusting breath fanned over her ear. "Be a good girl, and I might just convince my dad to reinstate your surgical privileges."

With that, he released her and swaggered out, leaving Sloane completely frozen in the empty room.

Instead of heading back to her department, Sloane wandered out to the hospital's garden courtyard, staring blankly at a specific contact in her phone.

Evelyn Vance.

Her biological mother.

If she begged for her help, there was a chance Evelyn could pull some strings and get her back on the team.

She desperately needed this career milestone.

But a flood of bitter, fragmented memories slammed into her mind.

On her fifth birthday, Evelyn had coldly told her, "You're five now. Grow up, handle your own problems, and stop calling your mother constantly."

On her seventh birthday: "You're seven. You're a big girl now. Deal with your own life and don't bother me unless it's an absolute emergency."

On her tenth birthday: "You're ten, I expect you to act like an adult..."

When she was eighteen, having skipped grades to enter a top-tier medical school, Evelyn had finally said, "Call me if you ever actually need something."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify