His Thirty-Fourth Accidental Betrayal

My fiancé, the city's top surgeon, has always taken such good care of me. That's why our wedding has been postponed thirty-three times.

Then, one night in the hospital, I overheard him talking to a friend. He confessed he was the one behind all thirty-three of my "accidents." He was in love with a new resident, Kalea, and couldn't bear to marry me out of family obligation.

His cruelty escalated. When Kalea framed me for slapping her, he shoved me back onto my bed, calling me insane.

When she faked a suicide attempt on a rooftop, he rushed to save her, letting me fall off the edge without a second glance.

While I lay paralyzed in a hospital bed, he had my mother beaten in prison as punishment, and she died from her injuries. On the day of her funeral, he took Kalea to a concert.

I was his fiancée. My father had sacrificed his career to save his. Our families had bound us together. Yet he destroyed my body, my mother, and my voice, all for a woman he'd just met.

Finally, he let Kalea, the woman he loved, perform surgery on my throat, and she deliberately ruined my vocal cords, destroying my ability to ever sing again. When I woke up, voiceless and broken, and saw the triumphant smirk on her face, I finally understood.

I snapped my SIM card, walked out of the hospital, and left everything behind. He had taken my voice, but he would not take the rest of my life.

Chapter 1

My thirty-fourth wedding was supposed to be tomorrow.

It was also the thirty-fourth time it had been postponed.

The first time, I fell down the stairs and broke my leg. The second time, a chandelier fell and gave me a concussion. The third time, food poisoning. The list went on.

Each time, it was an "accident." Each time, I ended up in the hospital, and our wedding was called off.

I lay in the sterile white bed, my body a map of old and new injuries. I was so weak I' d had several close calls, my life hanging by a thread. The doctors and nurses whispered about how unlucky I was.

I tried to sit up, a sharp pain shooting through my ribs. I just wanted to get some water, a small act of normalcy in a life that had become anything but. The effort left me breathless.

My fiancé, Drake Miles, was the most brilliant surgeon in the city. He always took such good care of me.

That' s what I used to believe.

As I slowly made my way down the quiet hospital corridor, I heard voices from a secluded balcony. One was Drake' s.

I stopped, hidden by the turn in the hall.

"Drake, are you serious? Another 'accident'?" It was his friend, a fellow doctor. "This is the thirty-third time Elyse has been hurt right before the wedding. Don't you think this is getting out of hand?"

My blood turned to ice. My hand, reaching for the wall to steady myself, started to shake.

Thirty-three times. He' d been counting.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Drake' s voice was cold, stripped of the warmth he always used with me. "I can't marry her."

"Then just break it off! Why do you keep hurting her like this? You almost killed her last time."

"It' s not that simple," Drake said, his voice laced with irritation. "My family owes her. My father ruined her father' s career, and we have a responsibility. This marriage is that responsibility."

A responsibility. Not love.

The truth I had refused to see for years was suddenly laid bare.

"A responsibility you're willing to fulfill by torturing her?" his friend asked, his tone incredulous.

"I don't have a choice," Drake snapped. "But it doesn't matter. I have to keep my distance. Especially from Kalea."

Kalea Hampton. The new medical resident. The one he mentored. The one whose name I' d heard him mention with a softness I' d once mistaken for professional pride.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Drake didn' t answer immediately. The silence was his confession. "I can't be."

His words were a final, brutal blow. My heart felt like it had stopped. The air left my lungs, and the hallway started to tilt.

I stumbled back, my vision blurring. Tears I didn' t know I was crying streamed down my face.

I ran, or as close to running as my battered body would allow, back to the safety of my room. I collapsed onto the bed, the flimsy mattress doing little to cushion the fall.

Thirty-three accidents.

The faulty stage light at my concert. The brake failure in my car. The "accidental" push into a swimming pool when I couldn't swim.

All of it. All of it was him.

All because he didn't want to marry me.

He was Drake Miles, the golden heir of the city's most powerful medical family. I was Elyse Maynard, an indie musician whose late father had been a brilliant surgeon. My father had sacrificed his career, taking the blame for a mistake made by Drake's father. Because of that, the Miles family had taken me in, promising to care for me for the rest of my life.

Our engagement was their way of fulfilling that promise.

I had thought his meticulous care, his gentle touches, his worried frowns when I was hurt-I had thought it was love.

Now I knew it was just guilt.

The pain from my injuries flared, a dull, throbbing echo of the agony in my chest. Every wound on my body screamed in protest, a chorus of his betrayal.

The door opened. It was Drake.

He walked in, his face a perfect mask of concern. "Elyse, you shouldn't be out of bed. Your ribs are still healing."

He mentioned his responsibility again, and the word made my stomach clench.

"Let me change your dressing," he said, his voice the soft, caring tone he reserved for me.

He sat on the edge of my bed, his medical kit in hand. As he prepared the antiseptic, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and for a second, his professional mask slipped.

I saw the phone charm dangling from it-a small, handcrafted sun. My eyes fixed on it.

I remembered giving him a similar charm years ago, one I' d made myself. He' d called it childish and tossed it in a drawer. But this one, this sun, was identical to the one worn by Kalea Hampton. I' d seen it on her coat just the other day.

He answered the call, his voice instantly changing, becoming warm and intimate.

"Kalea? What's wrong?"

I could hear her soft, anxious voice through the phone. She needed his help with a patient case, she said. She sounded panicked.

A genuine smile touched Drake's lips, a smile I hadn't seen directed at me in years. "Don't worry. I'll be right there."

He hung up. His good mood vanished as his eyes fell back on me. He seemed impatient, his movements now rushed.

He picked up the forceps and a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. He was supposed to apply a local anesthetic first. He always did.

This time, he didn't.

He pressed the stinging antiseptic directly onto my open wound.

A gasp of pain escaped my lips. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The world swam before my eyes.

"Drake," I choked out, my voice trembling. "The anesthetic..."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I was distracted," he said, his tone dismissive. He didn't stop. Instead, his movements became faster, rougher. "Just hold on. It'll be over in a second."

My body convulsed. I dug my nails into the sheets, biting my lip to keep from screaming. The physical pain was nothing compared to the truth that was searing itself into my mind.

He was hurting me so he could rush to her side.

He finished quickly, tossing the used supplies onto the tray with a clatter. "I have to go. There' s an emergency at the hospital. Be good and stay in bed."

He stood up and walked out without a backward glance.

The door clicked shut, leaving me in a world of pain and silence.

My heart felt like it was being shredded. A single tear rolled down my cheek, then another.

The agony, both from my wound and my shattered heart, was too much.

My vision went black as I fainted.

When I woke up, the room was filled with strangers. A group of young doctors in white coats stood around my bed, whispering among themselves.

"Who... who are you?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

One of them, a young man with glasses, stepped forward. "We're residents, Ms. Maynard. Dr. Miles is our mentor. He said we could observe your case."

Before he could continue, a sharp female voice cut him off. "Observe what? How to leech off a wealthy family?"

I turned my head. The speaker was a girl with a sneer on her face. Standing beside her, looking shy and innocent, was Kalea Hampton.

"You're the one who's been holding Dr. Miles back, aren't you?" the girl continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "Clinging to him because of some old family favor. You're just using their guilt to trap him."

Her words were ugly, but they were true. A wave of shame washed over me. For years, I had accepted the Miles family' s care, believing it was my due. I had let myself be bound by this "debt of gratitude."

"If it weren't for you, Dr. Miles would be free to be with the person he truly loves," she said, glancing pointedly at Kalea. "Someone who deserves him. Not some freeloader."

Kalea looked down, a faint blush on her cheeks, the very picture of a wronged but gentle soul. The sight made my stomach turn.

Another resident chimed in, "I bet it was your mother's idea. She probably pushed you on the Miles family the moment your father died, hoping to secure a rich son-in-law."

"Yeah, what a schemer."

They sneered and gossiped, their words twisting the memory of my mother, a woman who had only ever wanted me to be happy.

That was the one thing I couldn't bear.

"Stop it," I croaked, pushing myself up. "Don't you dare talk about my mother."

Anger gave me a burst of strength. I swung my hand, intending to slap the girl who had insulted my mom.

But in a flash, Kalea moved, placing herself directly in my path.

My hand connected with her cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, but the sound echoed in the silent room.

Kalea stumbled back, a hand flying to her face, her eyes wide with feigned shock.

"Elyse! What the hell are you doing?"

Drake' s furious voice boomed from the doorway. He had just walked in. He saw Kalea clutching her cheek and me with my hand still raised.

He didn't hesitate. He strode over, shoved me back onto the bed with such force that my head hit the headboard, and pulled Kalea behind him protectively.

"Are you insane?" he snarled at me. The sheer force of his anger was something I had never seen before.

I stared at him, my heart aching with a fresh wave of pain. He had never, ever spoken to me like that.

He turned to Kalea, his voice softening instantly. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" He gently brushed her cheek, his touch full of a tenderness he no longer showed me. He led her out of the room, promising to get her some ice.

The other residents shot me looks of disgust before following them out.

A few minutes later, Drake returned, his face a cold, hard mask.

"Apologize to her," he commanded.

I stared at him, silent and defiant. I would not apologize for a trap she had set herself.

"Did you hear me?" His voice was dangerously low. "You've been spoiled by my family for too long, Elyse. You think you can just hit people whenever you want?"

"They were insulting my mother," I said, my voice shaking. "Kalea stepped in front of her on purpose. I didn't mean to hit her."

Drake' s expression didn't soften. It grew colder. "And you think they were wrong? You think you aren't holding me back?"

The world stopped. My breath caught in my throat. He was agreeing with them. He believed I was the villain in this story. He saw me as a burden.

A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. "Fine," I whispered. "I'll apologize."

Dragging my aching body out of bed, I walked slowly toward his office. The hallway seemed impossibly long.

Kalea was alone in his office, sitting in his chair. She looked up as I entered, a flicker of triumph in her eyes before it was replaced by a look of gentle concern.

I remembered all the times Drake had told me his office was off-limits. "Work is work, Elyse," he would say. "No distractions."

Apparently, his principles only applied to people he didn't care about.

The pain in my chest was so sharp it was hard to breathe.

I swallowed my pride, my dignity, my love. "Kalea," I said, my voice flat. "I'm sorry."

She stood up, feigning surprise. "Oh, Ms. Maynard, please don't say that. You're Dr. Miles's fiancée. You're my teacher's wife. I should be the one apologizing."

"Don't call her that," Drake said from the doorway. He had followed me. His brow was furrowed in annoyance. He didn't want the woman he loved calling me his wife, not even in pretence.

The final piece of my broken heart crumbled into dust.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Miles," Kalea said, looking down meekly. "I'll be more careful." She turned to me. "Ms. Maynard, I forgive you. It was just a misunderstanding."

Her magnanimity was more insulting than any slap.

"You can go now," Drake said to me, his tone dismissive.

I turned, my nails digging into my palms, and walked out.

I didn't make it far. As I passed the door, someone rushing down the hall bumped into me. I lost my balance and fell to the floor, my body screaming in protest.

From inside the office, I heard Drake's worried voice. "Kalea, are you alright? Did that startle you?"

I lay on the cold, hard floor, completely ignored.

The dam finally broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. I covered my mouth to stifle the sobs that wracked my body.

A few minutes later, Drake and Kalea walked out of the office. He said he was taking her for a special lunch to "de-stress." They walked right past me as if I were invisible.

During the rest of my hospital stay, I was forced to listen to the nurses and residents coo over how dedicated Dr. Miles was to his promising student, Kalea. They went to academic conferences together. He personally guided her through complex procedures. He bought her lunch every day.

Each story was a new wound. He had always been "too busy" for those things with me.

My heart felt like it was being methodically torn to shreds. I stopped speaking, stopped reacting.

One night, staring out the window at the city lights, a sense of calm washed over me. It was the calm of absolute finality.

I was done.

I would set him free. And I would set myself free.

The day I was discharged, I didn't go home. I took a taxi straight to the Miles family mansion.

I found Mr. Miles in his study, a grand room filled with leather-bound books and the faint scent of old paper and guilt.

"Mr. Miles," I said, my voice steady. "I want to break off the engagement with Drake."

He looked up from his paperwork, his expression one of pure shock. "Elyse? What is this all about? Did Drake do something to upset you?"

I lowered my eyes to hide the bitterness I knew was there. "No," I lied. "It's not about him. My mother is getting out of prison soon. I want to take her and move away, start a new life somewhere else."

It was the only excuse I could think of that he would accept without question.

He studied my face for a long moment, his own etched with a familiar sadness. "I see," he said finally. "If this is what you truly want, I won't stand in your way. I'll have my assistant arrange a generous fund for you and your mother. It's the least we can do."

"Thank you," I whispered, relief washing over me.

Just then, the study door swung open. "Who's leaving?"

It was Drake. He stood in the doorway, his keys dangling from his hand, a casual smile on his face.

"I came to pick you up, Elyse. I thought we could go home together," he said.

Before his father could say anything, I quickly answered, "We were just talking about my mother. She's leaving prison soon."

Drake' s smile didn't falter. He was completely unaware that his world was about to change.

"Dad, Elyse and I will stay for dinner," he announced, putting an arm around my shoulders. I flinched at his touch.

Dinner was an agonizing affair. Drake, acting the part of the devoted fiancé, habitually placed my favorite foods on my plate. Each gesture was a painful reminder of a love I now knew was a lie. I used to think these small habits were proof of his affection. Now I saw them as the empty motions of a man fulfilling a duty.

"I have good news," Drake announced cheerfully to his father. "The venue for the wedding has been rebooked. We can finally get married next month."

I froze, my fork clattering against my plate.

Mr. Miles looked from his son to me, his brow furrowed. "Drake, that might be a problem. Elyse was just telling me she wants to call it off."

The air grew thick with tension.

Right on cue, Drake' s phone rang, shattering the heavy silence.

He glanced at the screen. It was Kalea.

Even from across the table, I could hear her weak, tearful voice. She had a fever, she said. She was all alone and scared.

Drake's hand tightened on his phone. "Where are you? I'm coming right now," he said, his voice tight with urgency.

He hung up and shot up from his chair, his previous good mood gone. "Why did you want to cancel the wedding?" he asked me, his tone distracted and impatient.

Before I could answer, he shook his head. "Never mind. We'll talk later. I have an emergency."

He rushed out of the dining room, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor in his haste.

I watched his retreating back, a familiar ache settling in my chest. He didn't love me. It was so painfully obvious.

After a polite but brief farewell to Mr. Miles, I left the mansion and went straight to the prison.

My mother looked older, more fragile than I remembered. Her hair had more grey, and her eyes, which used to be so bright, were clouded with worry.

"Elyse, my dear," she said, her voice raspy through the visitor's phone. "How are you? Are the Mileses treating you well?"

I instinctively pulled my sleeve down to cover the fresh bruises on my arm. "They're very good to me, Mom," I said, forcing a bright smile. "Everything is fine."

"And the wedding?" she asked, a sad smile on her face. "I'm so sorry I won't be there to see you walk down the aisle."

The lump in my throat felt huge. "Actually, Mom... I'm not getting married."

Her smile faded. "What? Why?"

"I'm going to take you away from here," I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. "We'll go somewhere new, just the two of us. We'll start over."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a deep, heart-wrenching pain. She knew, without me saying a word, that I was hurting.

"Okay, baby," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Whatever you want. Mom will go with you."

I went back to the house Drake and I shared. It felt cold and empty, a museum of a life that was never real.

I started packing, methodically sorting through my belongings. I took only what was truly mine. The clothes, the jewelry, the car-anything the Miles family had given me, I left behind.

Drake didn't come home that night.

He didn' t come home until late the next afternoon.