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Already Married to the Billionaire Doctor: My Ex-Fiancé Begs Too Late

NovelShort Completed

Second Chance Billionaire Revenge HotDevil Husband

On my wedding day, my bridesmaid walked in wearing a wedding gown identical to mine. The whole room erupted, but my fiancé just smiled and let her slip her arm through his. "Nina just likes to make a scene. Don't read into it." I didn't fight. I even straightened the hem of her dress myself. Six years together, and this was our third attempt at a wedding. The first time, Nina Lawson said she wanted to be his partner for the first dance of his life, so the wedding was postponed.

Chapters (4)

Chapter 1

On my wedding day, my bridesmaid walked in wearing a wedding dress identical to mine. The whole hall erupted in murmurs, but my fiancé just smiled and let her slip her arm through his. "Nina just likes to stir things up. Don't read into it." I didn't make a scene. I even straightened her train for her with my own hands. We had been together six years, and this was our third attempt at a wedding. The first time, Nina Lawson said she wanted to be his partner for the first dance of his life, so the wedding was pushed back. The second time, Nina had been dumped and needed someone with her, so our honeymoon tickets were refunded. Last week, my dad lay dying, gripping my hand, and never got the grandchild he'd waited for. My fiancé was at a pet store, helping her pick out a Ragdoll cat. The officiant handed me the microphone and asked me to say a few words. I looked at the two of them on the stage, arms linked, and I smiled. "To the groom and the bridesmaid. May you have a long and happy life together." This time, I truly had no intention of marrying him. Besides, two weeks ago, I had already married someone else at the courthouse. …… The microphone slipped from the officiant's hand and hit the floor with a piercing screech. Every guest turned to look at me, then at Julian Walker and Nina at center stage. Nina wore a wedding dress exactly like mine, its train trailing across the red carpet. She clung to Julian's arm, tears still in her eyes, her whole face wounded, and she refused to let go. Julian patted the back of her hand, soothing her with practiced ease. "Nina just wanted to add a little surprise to the wedding. Sienna, don't make this any uglier than it has to be." My throat tightened as I looked at him. Today should have been our third walk to the altar. He had once held my hand and told me he would only ever make me wear a wedding dress once in my life. Yet in six years, he had made me that same promise three times, and three times he'd gone back on it because of Nina. I had still been planning to wait for him to explain. Seeing Nina show up in a wedding dress, I suddenly didn't want to wait anymore. I bent down and picked up the microphone. The cold metal dug into my palm until it hurt. "I'm sorry. What I just said really was out of line." Julian's brow relaxed a little. He had probably decided I'd finally learned to back down. Nina tugged lightly at his sleeve, her voice trembling. "Julian, does Sienna really hate me that much? I only wanted to make her happy…" "She doesn't hate you. She's just in a bad mood today." Julian adjusted her shoulder strap for her, right in front of me, and didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with it. "Don't take it to heart." Watching his hands fix her dress, I suddenly remembered six years ago. My father had just come out of surgery, and Julian sat with me in the hospital hallway all night. He told me that no matter what happened in the future, he would always be on my side. Now he stood by Nina's side and couldn't even be bothered to look at me. The emcee asked carefully whether we still wanted to go on with the ceremony. I shook my head and set my bouquet down on the head table. "The ceremony's canceled. I'll cover half the bill." Julian's face finally changed. "Sienna Hayes, what are you throwing a fit about now?" "Today is our wedding." I looked at him and asked: "Who do you think should be the one wearing the wedding dress?" For a moment he had no answer. After a pause, he lowered his voice. "It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing for Nina. She's already apologized. Can't you at least let her keep a little dignity?" Nina's eyes instantly went red. "I'll go change right now. Sienna, please don't be angry." She turned to go, but Julian caught her arm. "Don't. The wedding's about to start. Don't give the guests something to laugh at." My fingers curled tight. The dignity he talked about was only ever something he demanded from me. I picked up my purse, walked around the stage, and left the banquet hall under everyone's stares. Outside, the wind was cold, and my veil kept blowing back behind me. I stood at the curb to flag down a car. Julian came after me, his face tight with anger he was holding back. "Where are you going?" "Home, to pack my things." "Pack what things?" I glanced at him, then gave the driver the address of our apartment. He thought I was just sulking, and he reached out to block the car door. "Once the wedding's over, we'll go home and talk. As for today, I'll have Nina apologize to you." "She doesn't need to apologize." "Sienna, what do you want?" What I wanted, he had known since six years ago. A wedding that belonged only to us. A man who would say no when another woman put on a wedding dress, and who would stand beside me when my father was dying. But saying it now would only make it sound like I was still begging him. I got into the car and shut the door. "I don't want anything anymore." As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Julian was still standing where I'd left him. He didn't come after me. He looked down at his phone. Nina was probably waiting for him again. Back at the apartment, I packed up my half of the clothes in the closet. My documents, my medications, and a few old books my father had left me all went into the suitcase. The ring Julian had given me was still sitting in the drawer. I picked it up and looked at it for a long time, but in the end I left it where it was. At 5 p.m., I wheeled my luggage out of the apartment. I put the spare key in an envelope and left it on the dining table, next to a cup of ginger tea. Half an hour later, Julian came home with Nina. I was already in a cab to the airport when my phone buzzed several times in a row. A message from Julian: Are you done with your tantrum? Nina's staying at our place tonight. Get the guest room ready. I deleted the conversation, looked up, and spoke to the driver. "Could you go a little faster, please?"

Chapter 2

Monday morning, I hurried back to the hospital. Before the review meeting, Julian cornered me at the door of the records room. He held a medication order record, and his face was even colder than it had been on the wedding day. "A patient Nina was responsible for yesterday developed cerebral edema. The order was verified under your employee ID." I took the record. In the electronic signature field, my name was right there, clear as day. "I wasn't on the ward yesterday." "Your signature is in the system." "Signatures can be traced in the backend." Julian pressed his lips together. "What are you implying?" Flipping to the last page, I pointed out the verification time. "At 2:17 yesterday afternoon, I was at the off-site records office doing a file handover. There's a keycard entry log, and the person I handed the files to signed for them." "But medical affairs only looks at outcomes." Julian lowered his voice. "Nina's a resident. If she gets a warning, her whole life is ruined." I stared at him. "You want me to take the blame?" "It's just a supervision lapse. You've been off the front line for so long that an internal warning won't affect anything." I gave a short laugh. Six years ago, Julian and I had joined Neurosurgery together. He operated fast and made decisions without hesitating, and the hospital soon put its key resources behind him. Complex cases were my strength, but to take care of my family, I gradually stepped back from the front line and gave him my surgical opportunities and promotion slots. Julian had once said that once his position was secure, he would save the best operating table for me. Later, what he saved for me was a pile of files to sort in an office, while he took Nina into the operating room. "Sienna." He slid a time-off request across to me. "Help Nina out this once, and next week I'll go back home with you. Hasn't your dad always wanted that meet-the-family visit? I'll apologize to him myself." My hand stopped on the page. My father was already gone. In the early hours of last Sunday, he had stopped breathing, and I had handled the cremation paperwork on my own. That night, Julian had been at a pet store helping Nina pick out a cat. Annoyed that my calls were distracting them from choosing a color, he had declined them three times. I hadn't told him since. If he wouldn't even answer the phone, he had no right to know whether my father had waited for him at the end. I set copies of the access log and the handover form in front of him. "I won't sign." Julian's face darkened. "You really have to blow this up?" "Someone changed a medication order, and a patient almost died on the operating table. That isn't big enough already?" "Nina didn't mean to." "A patient nearly lost his life, and 'she didn't mean to' is supposed to cover it?" He stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh. "What's gotten into you lately? You humiliated us at the wedding, you go after Nina at every turn at work, and your dad's sick but you haven't gone back to look after him. You don't even care about your own family anymore?" I looked up. "You're right." He probably hadn't expected that answer, because he fell silent. I handed the materials to a staff member at medical affairs, stated that I did not accept a signature made in my name, and requested the complete backend operation logs. Julian reached out to stop me. "Sienna, you couldn't even be bothered when my father-in-law was sick, and now you want to talk about principles?" The hand gripping my wrist was his. In the past, whenever he brought up my father, I would soften. I would tell myself he was just busy and hadn't had time to go back yet. But my father's death certificate was in my bag, its corners crumpled from my grip. Little by little, I pulled my hand free. "Dr. Walker, stop using a dead man to talk me around." He froze where he stood. I turned and left the records room. Behind me, paper rustled as it was crushed in a fist. That evening, medical affairs informed me that the backend records showed the order had been issued from Nina's account, and the verifier had then been overwritten using administrator privileges. Only Julian and the department chief had administrator privileges. My chest felt heavy as I stared at that line of the record. Julian's way of covering up Nina's mistake was to push the blame onto me with his own hands.

Chapter 3

Three days later, a multi-car pileup hit the River Crossing Bridge downtown. The emergency center activated its highest-level response, and Julian and I were assigned to the same rescue vehicle. Rain hammered the windows, and the wipers swung back and forth without stopping. The back held first-aid kits and immobilization gear. In the driver's seat, Julian never said a word to me. I didn't speak either. As we turned onto the exit ramp, his phone rang. Nina's face appeared on the screen. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, a dim underground parking garage behind her. "Julian, I just hit a wall backing out. I scraped my hand, it keeps going numb, and I can't catch my breath. Is it a stress reaction? I'm so scared..." Julian sat up straight at once. "Which exit are you at right now?" I turned to look at him. Up ahead, the rescue convoy had already switched on its emergency lights. The crash site was less than twenty minutes away. Instead, Julian hit the brakes and pulled into the emergency lane in the pouring rain. "Pull over and don't move. I'll be right there." He hung up, picked up my first-aid kit, and pushed it toward the door. "Get out. Another vehicle will come pick you up." Rainwater poured in through the gap in the door, and the tops of my shoes got soaked. "How many injured are still at the scene?" "Mercy General's team is already on its way." "You're going to be with Nina?" "She has a history of asthma. If no one's with her, something could happen." "All she said was that she scraped her hand. You should tell her to call the nearest EMTs." "Did you see it yourself?" "She said so herself." Julian paused, frowning at me. "You're really going to make an issue of this right now?" Watching him grip the wheel again, I suddenly remembered something from many years ago. The first time I went with him on a disaster-zone rotation, we ran into a landslide on the way. He draped his last raincoat over me and stood in the rain himself, clearing the rocks that blocked the road. He said, Sienna, stay close to me. I won't leave you behind. Six years later, it was pouring again, and he shoved the first-aid kit into the muddy water and hurried me out of the car. "There are people up ahead waiting to be saved." I stared at him. "Are you sure you want to go?" Julian rested a hand on the wheel, already impatient. "The scene won't grind to a halt without you. Nina needs me right now." I didn't try to talk him out of it again. The engine started, the tires threw up a wide spray of standing water, and the car soon vanished into the rain. On the roadside, the first-aid kit lay on its side, its latch knocked open, a tourniquet rolling into the storm drain. I bent down to gather the instruments, my fingers stiff with cold. A military emergency convoy was heading toward the scene from behind. I took out my medical pass, stepped to the side of the road, and waved. A truck stopped, and the captain recognized me. "Dr. Hayes, what are you doing out here?" "My vehicle ran into a problem." I loaded the kit into the back. "Lend me a seat. I'm going to the scene." The captain glanced at the taillights disappearing in the distance, then at my soaked clothes. He didn't ask anything else, just had someone make room for me. When we reached the scene, the bridge was a wreck of crushed vehicles. In a makeshift tent, I treated three critically injured patients back to back. By the time the third was sent to a hospital in the rear, it was already dark. Julian called. "Nina's fine. She was just hyperventilating. Where are you now?" I leaned against the frame outside the tent, blood still on my knuckles. "At the scene." "How did you get there?" "I caught a ride with the rescue team." The line went quiet for a few seconds. "Sienna, I know you were treated unfairly today. Once I'm done taking care of things with Nina, I'll come back and we'll talk." In the distance, the rain was still washing over the bridge. "Julian, don't come back." "Now you're saying things out of anger again." "I'm not saying anything out of anger." "You at least owe me an explanation." I gripped the phone tighter, the death certificate in my pocket pressing into my leg. "When my dad died, you wouldn't even answer the phone. What else am I supposed to explain?" Through the receiver, his breathing turned sharp and quick. I hung up on him. At dawn the next day, the rescue operation ended. The head of the inspection team found me and handed me an invitation letter. "Dr. Hayes, the National Trauma Center is putting together a Deployed Rescue Team. Would you be willing to try out for it?" I took the letter, and my fingers rested on the page for two seconds. Once, for Julian, I had given up the operating table. This time, I wanted to try for myself.

Chapter 4

Once the rescue operation was over, I went back to the hospital to process my resignation. Julian didn't come looking for me again. He probably still thought I was waiting for him to apologize, and that the business with my father was just an argument I'd started to force him to come home. After handing the last of my paperwork to HR, I went to the records room to collect my personal files. At the very bottom of a drawer lay an old photo. In it, Julian had just finished his first solo surgery. He looked exhausted, but he was smiling at the camera, genuinely happy. Back then, he had handed me the operative report and spoken very seriously. "Sienna, once I make Chief, you'll go back to being lead surgeon. I won't let your talent go to waste." I had believed him. But tucked into the resignation packet HR gave me was that recommendation for a long-term administrative position. Julian had filled it out for me years ago. He hadn't even asked me. I tore the copy in half and dropped it in the trash. That afternoon, I went to the old house my father had left behind to pick up the rest of his papers. White funeral drapes hung in the yard, and ash still lay by the door where offerings had been burned. A funeral home employee was going over the charges for the memorial portrait and the urn, while a property appraiser stood by the door examining the notarized documents. When I took my father's portrait, my wrists trembled a little. In life, my father had thought highly of Julian. He always said, "Julian doesn't say much, but he's steady. I can trust him with my daughter." In his last few days, my father was rarely lucid, but he still asked when Julian would get there. All I could do was lie and tell him traffic was bad. It was a lie, and I still haven't dared to admit it. A car pulled up outside. Julian walked into the yard carrying a tin of tea and some health supplements. He hadn't even taken off his white coat. When he saw the white drapes in the yard, he stopped. "Where's Sienna?" The funeral home employee looked him over. "You're looking for Ms. Hayes?" "Her father lives here. He's seriously ill. I came to visit him." The employee looked down and flipped through the files. "Professor Richard Hayes passed away early last Sunday morning. He was cremated the same day. Are you family?" The gift box slipped from Julian's hands, and the tea tumbled into the muddy water. "What did you say?" The employee frowned. "The death certificate and the cremation certificate are right here. If you're family, go sign in." Julian rushed over and snatched the documents, his finger pressing on the time of death. Last Sunday, 4:40 a.m. The third call I made to him that night came just before my father took his last breath. He'd been at the pet store with Nina, waiting for her cat to be examined. Annoyed that his phone kept buzzing, he declined the call and switched it to silent. Standing behind the door, I watched him turn the pages of the certificates one by one. His lips moved several times, but no words came out. I didn't go out. When he finally looked up, he saw me. "Sienna..." Holding my father's portrait, I took a step back. He walked toward me. "Why didn't you tell me?" "I did tell you." "When?" "When you were at the pet store." He stopped. Looking at his pale face, I found my voice steadier than I'd expected. "Before you hung up, you said not to let an old man's illness get in the way of Nina picking out a cat." The papers fell to the ground. "I didn't know..." "You knew." I cut him off. "You just figured he could wait." He reached for me, and I stepped away. "Julian, the wedding's off, and my father has been laid to rest. Nothing you say now makes any difference." "Sienna, I can make it up to you." I looked at the supplements he'd brought. It was absurd. He showed up with a late gift and expected me to act like none of it had happened. "You can't make up for this." Julian's eyes were red. "Then what do you want me to do?" "Stay away from me." Holding the portrait, I turned and went inside. As the door closed between us, I heard him say quietly: "Can't you give me one more chance?" I stopped behind the door, my fingers pressed against the frame. In the portrait, my father gazed quietly ahead. I answered softly: "I gave you so many chances. When did you ever care?"