{"product_id":"the-ultimate-medical-romance-bundle-2","title":"The Ultimate Medical Romance Bundle","description":"\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eI pressed my back against the cold metal shelving and closed my eyes, trying to remember how to breathe normally.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIn through the nose. Out through the mouth.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eSo why did it feel like I was drowning?\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eSixteen hours. That was how long I’d been on my feet. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThree surgeries, including the emergency case at three in the morning when Dr. Cross had specifically requested me. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe last real meal I ate was my mother’s soup from yesterday. The protein bar in my locker remained untouched.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy hands trembled as I picked up a clipboard, pretending to do inventory. The numbers blurred together. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBoxes of surgical gloves. Sterile drapes. Suture kits. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy vision kept going fuzzy at the edges like someone had smeared the world with a finger. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy ears filled with rushing blood.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eOne minute. Just one minute to pull myself together.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThen I'd be fine. Dr. Cross had another surgery scheduled, and he needed his first assist. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI couldn't fall apart now. Not when people were counting on me.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI squeezed my eyes shut, trying to slow my breathing, but my lungs refused to cooperate. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eShort, shallow gasps that weren't enough to clear the fog from my brain. My legs felt liquid, ready to give out.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI gripped the metal shelf harder, focusing on the cold bite of steel against my palms, praying it would anchor me while the world tilted sideways.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMovement outside the door made me look through the small window.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eDr. Cross strode past, white coat pristine and unwrinkled despite the emergency surgery we'd finished barely three hours ago. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003ePatient chart in hand, dark head bent, expression unreadable. Like always.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe looked untouchable. Like exhaustion and hunger and fear had never once found him behind whatever wall he'd built around himself.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe contrast hit me somewhere tender.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe moved through this hospital like he was the only person who had ever truly belonged in it. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eControlled. Precise. Unshakeable. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eWhile I was hiding in a supply closet, barely remembering the last time I'd slept more than three hours or felt anything except low-grade panic about bills and evictions and keeping everything from falling apart.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAnd yet.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eHe had requested me. Again. \u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIt was always me he requested, and I had never once let myself think too hard about why. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIt was professional. It had to be professional. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe was the most sought-after cardiac surgeon in the state and I was good at my job and that was the entire explanation.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eExcept.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThere were moments I couldn't fully explain away. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe way I'd sometimes look up mid-surgery and find his eyes already on me, just for a second, before he looked back down at the field. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe way he'd gone still in the scrub room this morning when I handed him the ibuprofen. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe way he said my name sometimes, low and careful, like he was paying attention to the sound of it.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI had told myself I was imagining things.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eStanding here now, dizzy and hollow and held up by nothing but stubbornness, I wasn't so sure.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eNot that it mattered. A man like Riven Cross did not think about his surgical nurses in any way that wasn't purely clinical. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe was precise and cold and had made it quietly, consistently clear that I existed to him inside the OR and nowhere else. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHalf the floor thought he didn't like me. There were days I believed them.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eBut he kept requesting me.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAnd I kept saying yes, every single time, at every single hour, because somewhere underneath all the professionalism and all the sensible reasons I told myself, I wanted to be in that room with him.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eWhich was a spectacular problem to have while currently losing consciousness in a supply closet.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe edges of my vision went dark. Not all at once. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eLike shadows creeping inward, narrowing my field of sight until I was looking through a shrinking tunnel. I reached for the shelf but my fingers wouldn't grip properly.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI thought, absurdly, that if I fainted right now he would probably find out.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI thought, even more absurdly, that some small traitorous part of me didn't entirely mind.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThen there was nothing but darkness swallowing me whole.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e***\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eI woke up to beeping monitors.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy body registered, slowly, how wrong it felt to be lying on something soft instead of the hard floor. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eA scratchy blanket had been pulled over me. A cool, steady pressure circled my wrist, two fingers against my pulse point, and that was enough to snap me back to the present.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI wasn't dreaming. I had become a patient.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI forced my eyes open. Light stabbed through them and I blinked against the assault, shapes and colors swimming until they settled into something I recognized.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eDr. Riven Cross was standing beside my bed.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eTwo fingers pressed to my radial pulse. His other hand adjusting my IV drip. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHis eyes were on my chart, that familiar furrow between his brows, like even now, even here, he was solving something.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eFor one strange, half-conscious moment I just looked at him.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe sharp line of his jaw. The quiet authority in the way he stood, like he had never once in his life been uncertain about where he was supposed to be. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe was still in his white coat. Still somehow unwrinkled. Still unfairly, unreasonably handsome in a way that felt almost inconsiderate given the circumstances.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI had collapsed in a supply closet and he had apparently found me and now he was standing close enough that I could see the faint shadow of exhaustion under his eyes that he would never, ever acknowledge out loud.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThen the monitors caught up with my brain.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe beeping accelerated in a quick, mortifying climb and I watched with complete horror as his eyes cut sideways to the screen. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThen back to me. Slow. Unhurried. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eOne dark brow lifted, just slightly, in that way he had that made junior residents want to disappear into the floor.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"Interesting,\" he said. His voice was low. Almost casual. \"Your vitals were perfectly stable until about four seconds ago.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI opened my mouth.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eClosed it.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe monitor beeped again, cheerfully, as if it had decided to finish destroying whatever remained of my dignity.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"I was disoriented,\" I said. \"The light is very bright in here.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe looked at me for a long moment. Then back at the monitor. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe corner of his mouth did something that was almost, almost a smile, and he said nothing at all, which was somehow so much worse.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy phone buzzed from where it had been resting on my bedside table, the screen lighting up with a cascade of notifications. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003ePast due notices. Final warnings. Collections threats.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy humiliation crystallized into something sharp and painful in my chest.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBut Dr. Cross remained focused on the IV, his expression unreadable.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIn the past six months of working as his first assist, he'd barely acknowledged me outside the OR. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eTo him, I was a pair of competent hands across the surgical field. His best assistant, maybe. But definitely just another cog in the machine.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI stole a glance at him. His face was carved from stone, jaw set in that way he always wore during surgery—complete concentration, absolute control. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHis fingers were still pressed gently against my wrist as he monitored my pulse, eyes flickering to the cardiac monitor. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“Dr. Cross.” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for helping me. I didn’t mean to—”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“Don’t apologize.” His tone stayed professional and detached, like in the OR. “You collapsed from exhaustion and dehydration. You need fluids and observation.”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“I can’t stay.” I tried to sit up, but his hand on my shoulder stopped me. Gentle but firm. “I have a shift soon—”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"You're not going anywhere.\" It wasn't a suggestion. \"I'll handle your shift coverage.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy phone buzzed again. Another loud, insistent series of vibrations. I didn't have to look to know what they said. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003ePast-due notices. Final warnings. Legal threats from my landlord's attorney. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eDr. Cross' eyes flickered to the screen. His expression stayed neutral, but his thumb pressed slightly harder against my pulse point. A muscle ticked in his jaw.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI turned away, staring at a water stain on the ceiling. \"It's fine. I'm handling it.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe didn't respond. Just held my wrist, monitoring my pulse in silence.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"Where is she?!\" A grating voice echoed from the corridor outside. \"I know she works here!\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy stomach dropped realizing who it was. No. Not here. Not now.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"Sir, you need to lower your voice—\" A nurse's calm voice tried to intervene.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"I'll make as much noise as I want!\" The voice grew louder, closer. \"She owes me money! Where is Mireya Rosen?!\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy heart rate spiked, the monitor betraying my panic with faster beeping.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThis couldn't be happening. There was no way Gerald would come to the hospital to hunt me down. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBut I'd been dodging his calls for weeks, and apparently he'd decided public humiliation was an acceptable collection tactic.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe door burst open. A flustered nurse tried to block him, but Gerald shouldered past her, his face mottled red, hair disheveled, clutching papers in one meaty fist.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“There you are! Finally!\" \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe stalked toward the bed, jabbing a finger at me. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“I’ve been calling for days, Mireya. Days! Do you think I run a charity? Do you think rent pays itself?”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe ignored my IV, the monitors, the hospital gown, and the fact that I was basically a patient.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“You’re three months behind. Three months! I’ve been patient, but enough is enough!” \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe thrust the papers toward me. “Sign these eviction papers now, or I'll have the sheriff remove you and your mother from my property. Tomorrow, if necessary.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy throat closed up. I couldn't breathe.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“Sir, this really isn’t the time.” The nurse stepped between us. “She needs rest—”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“Not the time? When is the time?” Gerald's face turned purple, veins standing out like cords in his neck. He brushed past her. “When she’s four months behind? Five? She’s stealing from me! Months of free housing while I lose thousands!”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“Please,” I whispered, voice breaking. “I just need a few more days. I’m working on the money—”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"More days? I've given you extra days!\" His fist slammed down on the bedside table, rattling the water pitcher. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“I’m trying.” My eyes burned. “My mother is sick. Medical bills—”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"Not my problem!\" He leaned in, spittle flying. \"Your problems aren't my problems! Sign the damn papers before I—\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\"Get out.\"\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe voice cut through the room like a scalpel—cold, precise, absolutely lethal.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI didn't look at Gerald. I looked at Riven. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAt the muscle that had gone tight along his jaw. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAt the way his stillness had changed into something else entirely, something that had edges to it.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eDr. Cross stood utterly still. But everything about him had changed. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe professional detachment had evaporated, replaced by something that made the temperature in the room plummet.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHis steel-gray eyes fixed on Gerald with an intensity that could cut through bone.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eI'd never seen him like this. In six months, I'd only ever seen the neutral mask, the clinical distance. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThis was something else entirely—something dangerous barely contained beneath a civilized surface.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eA shiver ran down my spine despite the warm blanket.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eGerald went pale, his bluster evaporating. “Dr. Cross, sir…” His voice pitched high, suddenly thin. “I… I didn’t know she was… yours.” \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eDr. Cross didn't even look at him. He kept his focus on me, but his voice carried absolute authority. \"Get. Out.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eGerald scurried backward, papers scattering from his hands, stammered apologies fading as he fled into the corridor.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe silence that followed felt heavy, oppressive.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eDr. Cross turned back to me. I stared at a crack in the ceiling, my gaze anywhere but at him. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eEverything I'd been trying to hide—the debt, the desperation, the fear—had been laid bare in the most humiliating way possible.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe knew everything now.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"He won't bother you again,\" Dr. Cross said quietly. His thumb traced my pulse point gently, almost absently. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"I treated his father years ago. Multiple cardiac surgeries at a significantly reduced cost. He owes me more than he could ever repay.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"Oh.\" It was all I could manage.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe shook his head. “I can’t believe he wouldn’t extend that same compassion to others…”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThat was my landlord Gerald. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe was always on our case when it came to our rent, but nowhere to be found when something in the apartment needed fixing. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"And don't worry about your apartment.\" He said it the same way he called for instruments in the OR. Calm. Decided. \"You're coming home with me.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMy brain stuttered to a halt.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"Sorry.\" He blinked once, the briefest flicker of something crossing his face.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp dir=\"ltr\"\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e \"I meant you can stay with me. \u003cem\u003eIf you want.\u003c\/em\u003e\"\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Stacy Sterling","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48355828924628,"sku":"SSTUMRBEB","price":24.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0781\/7566\/6388\/files\/FullCatalog.png?v=1784939556","url":"https:\/\/stacysterlingbooks.com\/products\/the-ultimate-medical-romance-bundle-2","provider":"Stacy Sterling","version":"1.0","type":"link"}