"Jacob, you really had Claire make your fiancée’s wedding dress? Aren’t you worried she’ll find out?"
Claire Kendall froze outside the private room, her breath catching.
Two weeks ago, Jacob Sinclair had asked her to make a custom wedding gown for a friend named Yvonne Warren.
Claire had spent ten sleepless nights stitching every detail by hand, including an elaborate pair of intertwined birds across the fabric.
So his "friend" was actually his fiancée.
Claire had been with Jacob since she was twenty-one. Nearly seven years. She had bet everything on him.
She knew they came from different worlds, so she had never pushed him to marry her. She had simply waited.
She wanted to build her embroidery studio into something of her own and stand beside him as an equal.
Jacob wasn’t against marriage after all.
He had just never planned to marry her.
Claire gave a bitter little smile.
Fine. She was done. She had made her bet, and she had lost.
Claire turned to leave. Then Jacob’s voice came from inside the room.
"She’ll never know. And even if she finds out, so what? Her little embroidery studio only survives because of Sinclair Group. And her mom? They found two kidney matches. I stopped both. Without my say-so, no surgeon in Aethel would dare operate on her."
The room erupted in laughter.
"Damn, Jacob. That’s one way to keep a woman in a gilded cage."
"And you still got her thanking you for it."
Claire went completely still.
A year ago, her mother had gone into kidney failure. Claire had offered to donate one of her own kidneys, but she wasn’t a match.
She had broken down outside her mother’s room, and Jacob had held her close. "Hey, sweetheart. Money isn’t the problem. I’ll find a donor. Your mom’s going to be okay."
She had believed him. She had waited an entire year, only to learn that Jacob had been the one holding everything up.
He had used her mother’s life to keep her under control.
Rage burned through Claire.
Six years. God, she had been stupid.
Claire’s phone rang, sharp and sudden.
"This is Aethel General Hospital. Your mother, Shirley Kendall, developed a blood clot during dialysis. She’s in critical condition."
Claire’s mind went blank. There was no time to confront Jacob. She ran for the elevator.
By the time Claire reached the hospital, her mother was already being rushed into a procedure room.
A nurse hurried over with a form. "Sign this. All our senior doctors are in surgery. No one’s free to take the case right now."
"What do you mean no one’s free to take the case?" Claire’s voice shook.
"Her kidney failure is severe. This procedure is high-risk. We need a specialist—"
The elevator doors opened before the nurse could finish. A tall man strode out.
He pulled off his leather gloves as he walked, revealing long, pale fingers.
Several doctors followed close behind, nervously updating him on the patient’s condition.
The nurse stared. "D-Dr. Warren? You just got off an international flight. Dr. Keller said you were supposed to rest."
The man gave one clipped order. "Scans."
A resident handed them over immediately.
Claire looked up and met a pair of dark, unreadable eyes.
She knew that face.
Miles Warren. Heir to Aethel’s powerful Warren family, and uncle to Yvonne Warren, Jacob’s fiancée.
Their eyes met, and something tightened in Claire’s chest. A strange sense of familiarity washed over her.
Miles studied her for several seconds.
His gaze was sharp, almost assessing. Something else flickered in his eyes, too faint for Claire to read, before he looked back at the scans.
He made the call almost immediately and tapped one spot on the scan.
"Call anesthesia. Thrombectomy. OR in five minutes."
The nurse hesitated. "But the surgical deposit hasn’t been paid—"
"Put it through as an emergency. I’ll guarantee the bill," Miles said.
Claire stared at him. "Thank you."
The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the hospital hallway.
Claire’s studio made decent money, but she’d tied up almost all of its cash in an expensive order of silk. She didn’t have 200,000 dollars she could access right away.
Now she had to find the money and pay Miles back, a man she barely knew.
Claire gritted her teeth and called Jacob. The phone rang for a long time before someone answered.
It was Yvonne.
"Jacob, someone’s calling from a number you don’t have saved."
Jacob’s voice came through cold and flat. "Ignore it."
Claire hung up. She had expected nothing, and that was exactly what she got.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to call her father, Howard Kendall.
"Mom needs 200 grand for surgery. I can pay you back Monday."
"200 grand?" Howard snapped. "You’ve been with Jacob all these years and you can’t come up with that? I asked you to put in a good word with him for that Sinclair Group contract. You were too proud to help me then. Now you need money and suddenly I’m your father again? Too late!"
The call was slammed down brutally.
Claire rubbed her temples. Her eyes ached.
The surgery took two hours.
Miles came out of the OR and removed his surgical cap. "We got the clot. She’s stable for now, but she needs to be matched with a kidney donor as soon as possible. Come by my office later to sign the paperwork."
"Okay. Thank you, Dr. Warren."
***
Outside the ICU, Claire stared through the glass at her unconscious mother. Jacob’s words kept replaying in her head.
The Sinclairs were too powerful. To get out and save her mother, she needed someone even stronger on her side.
Miles Warren. Future head of the Warren family. Her mother’s doctor.
If Miles was on her side, her mother had a chance. And Jacob would think twice before touching her if he wanted to keep the Warren engagement.
Using a man who had just helped her was shameless, reckless, and dangerous. But the idea had already taken hold.
She needed something strong enough to pull her out of this mess. And if it could bring the Sinclairs down too, even better.
Claire went to the restroom, wiped away her tears, fixed her makeup, and headed for Miles’s office.
Miles was behind his desk, reading a chart.
"Dr. Warren, sorry to bother you. I need your help getting my mother registered for a donor match." Claire softened her voice.
Miles looked up. His gaze paused on the redness around her eyes. He was quiet for a moment before saying, "I can help."
"And about the surgery bill, could I get your number? I’ll pay you back as soon as I have the money."
"No need." Miles opened a drawer, took out a bank card, and slid it across the desk. "Put the money in this account. The PIN is my birthday."
So much for getting his number. Claire hid her disappointment.
She picked up the card and asked softly, "What’s your birthday?"
Miles stared at her, his expression cooling. He spoke each digit slowly. "072895."
"I’ll remember, Dr. Warren."
"Will you?" Miles’s voice turned cold. "Funny. You seem pretty forgetful to me, Ms. Kendall."
’Is that resentment in his voice? Is he... hurt?’
Claire didn’t understand the strange edge in his voice, and she didn’t dare ask. She grabbed a sticky note, quickly wrote down her number, and pressed it into his hand. Her fingertips brushed his warm palm.
Miles’s fingers curled on instinct.
"That’s my number, Dr. Warren. You can call me anytime."
The door closed. Miles picked up the note.
He already knew every digit by heart.
The coldness in his eyes deepened. Then he let the note drop into the trash.