His Unwanted Wife, The Secret Genius Surgeon

The heavy paper of the report felt slick and cold under Joslyn Cameron's fingertips.

She traced the edge of the photograph again. Kisha Franklin, smiling softly, her hand resting on the shoulder of a small boy. He couldn't be more than five. The background was unmistakable-the sharp, modern lines of Jude's private apartment in London.

A place she had never been.

The low growl of a car engine cut through the evening quiet of the York estate. Her heart seized in her chest, a painful, stuttering beat. She shoved the report under a silk cushion on the sofa just as the heavy oak door swung open.

Jude York filled the doorway. Tall, impeccable in a custom-tailored suit, his presence sucked the air from the room. He loosened his tie with a familiar, impatient tug, his eyes sweeping past Joslyn as if struggling to place her for a fraction of a second before his expression settled into its usual unreadable mask.

Joslyn rose to her feet, the smile she tried to form feeling like a grimace. "Was your trip-"

The words died in her throat.

He wasn't alone.

Behind him stood a woman in a simple white dress, her expression timid, her hand clutching a small boy's.

Kisha Franklin and Leo.

The woman from the photograph.

Kisha's eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something that looked like triumph before she lowered her gaze. The boy, Leo, peeked out from behind her legs, his wide eyes taking in the cavernous living room.

Joslyn's vision tunneled. The room, the man she married, the woman who had haunted their marriage, the child. It was a tableau from a nightmare. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

Jude ignored her completely. He walked straight to the bar cart, the crystal decanter clinking as he poured a measure of whiskey. The sound was unnaturally loud in the suffocating silence.

He took a sip, then finally spoke, his voice flat. "Kisha and Leo will be staying here from now on."

A roaring sound filled Joslyn's ears. She forced words past the lump in her throat, her voice a raw whisper. "Jude, I need an explanation."

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his deep gray eyes finally landing on her, devoid of any emotion. "An explanation? You're looking at it."

Kisha chose that moment to let her eyes well up with tears. "Jude, maybe... maybe this was a mistake. This is too hard on Joslyn."

Jude's brow furrowed in annoyance. His tone was absolute, leaving no room for argument. "This is your home."

Each word was a physical blow. This was their home. Hers and Jude's.

She took a shaky breath, her gaze locked on him. "That boy... whose is he?"

He set the glass down with a decisive click. He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and she saw nothing but cold dismissal. "Leo is my son. I'm adopting him, legally."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet. She stumbled back, her hand landing on the arm of the sofa to steady herself.

"Adopting?" She clung to the word, a drowning woman grasping at a piece of driftwood. "So he's not... he's not yours by blood?"

A flicker of impatience crossed his face. "That's irrelevant. What matters is that he will carry the York name."

He closed the distance between them, his height and sheer presence overwhelming. He stood over her, a judge delivering a sentence. "And starting today, you will be his mother."

The air left her lungs. "You want me to be a mother to... to a bastard?"

At the word "bastard," Kisha flinched dramatically, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek.

Jude's expression turned glacial. "Watch your words, Joslyn."

Her heart, which had been hammering against her ribs, seemed to stop altogether. It sank into a cold, dark pit in her stomach. This man, her husband of three years, was a complete stranger.

A bitter, broken laugh escaped her lips. The tears she'd been fighting finally burned in her eyes. "And what about me? What about our children, Jude?"

The question hit a nerve. The cold mask on his face cracked, replaced by something harder, crueler.

He leaned in close, his voice a low, venomous whisper meant only for her. For a split second, his pupils seemed to lose focus, a barely perceptible tremor in his hand. "I told you. We won't have any children between us"

She froze, a hazy memory surfacing. Three years ago, before the wedding. He'd said something like that, his tone just as flat and detached as it was now. She had dismissed it as an excuse, the words of a man not yet ready for a family.

His voice was devoid of any warmth, any humanity. "And you, Joslyn, will never have a child of mine."

The last thread of hope she hadn't even known she was holding onto snapped.

She looked into his cold, empty eyes and finally understood. For three years, she had been the sole performer in the play of their marriage.

And the show was over.

Joslyn's body trembled, a fine, uncontrollable shiver born of shock and a pain so deep it felt physical. She stared at Jude, searching his face for a sign, any sign that this was some kind of cruel joke.

There was nothing. Only a wall of ice.

He turned away from her, his back a rigid line of dismissal. He addressed the housekeeper, who had appeared silently in the doorway. "Mrs. Gable, prepare the south-facing suite on the second floor for Mrs. Franklin and young Mr. Leo."

"Mrs. Franklin?" The title sliced through Joslyn's haze of pain. The south-facing suite. That was the master bedroom.

Their bedroom.

A surge of desperate anger propelled her forward. She grabbed his arm, her nails digging into the fine wool of his suit. "Jude, you can't! That's... that's our room!"

He ripped his arm away with a sharp, violent motion. The force sent her stumbling backward, her hip colliding hard with the corner of the marble coffee table. A dull thud echoed in the room.

"Oh my God!" Kisha gasped, pulling Leo behind her as if Joslyn were a wild animal about to attack.

Jude's eyes were colder than she'd ever seen them. "There is no 'our' anymore, Joslyn. There are only my decisions."

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded document. He tossed it onto the coffee table. It landed with a soft, final slap.

"That's a divorce agreement," he said, his voice flat. "Sign it. You'll get the apartment and the allowance stipulated in the prenup."

Joslyn stared at the crisp white paper. The strength drained from her limbs, leaving her feeling hollowed out.

"Divorce," she whispered. He had it all planned. He'd come home prepared to erase her.

He saw her stunned inaction and added, his voice laced with a threat. "Or you can refuse to sign. And you can walk out of here with nothing. You know what my legal team is capable of."

The threat was naked, brutal. The last embers of feeling in her heart turned to ash.

She lifted her head. The tears were gone, replaced by an empty calm. "Fine. I'll sign."

Her quick agreement seemed to throw him. A flicker of something-annoyance? confusion?-crossed his face before he masked it. He hadn't expected her to fold so easily.

Joslyn picked up the pen from the table. She didn't read a single clause. She flipped to the last page and scrawled her name on the signature line. The scratching of the nib on the paper was the only sound.

She pushed the document back toward him. "There. Can I go now?"

Jude stared at her signature, a muscle ticking in his jaw. A dull throb started behind his eyes, a familiar, unwelcome sensation that made the edges of his vision blur. A phantom scent of jasmine-her perfume-seemed to mock him. He balled his hands into fists at his sides, a strange, restless energy coiling inside him, an urge to undo something he couldn't name.

"Kisha and Leo are moving in tonight," he said, his voice clipped. "You should pack your things. Now."

Joslyn didn't grant him another look. She turned and walked toward the grand staircase.

As she passed Kisha, the other woman leaned in, her voice a triumphant whisper. "Thank you for making this easy for us."

Joslyn stopped. She turned her head just enough to meet Kisha's gaze, her own voice just as low, but laced with steel. "Don't celebrate too soon. Things that are stolen have a way of getting lost again."

The color drained from Kisha's face.

Joslyn continued up the stairs, each step heavy. She entered the bedroom, a space she had filled with her personal touches, with books and art, with the faint scent of her perfume. With memories.

There were no more tears. Just a profound, crushing numbness. She opened the walk-in closet and pulled out the small suitcase she had arrived with three years ago.

She packed only a few changes of clothes, the simple things she owned before him. Everything he had ever bought her-the designer dresses, the jewelry, the shoes-she left untouched.

From downstairs, she could hear Leo's happy laughter and Kisha's soft, cooing voice directing the staff. The sounds were like needles piercing her eardrums.

A sharp knock on the door made her jump. Mrs. Gable stood there, her face a carefully blank mask. "Sir asks that you hurry. Mrs. Franklin needs to rest."

Joslyn snapped the suitcase shut. She dragged it behind her, out of the room that was no longer hers.

At the top of the stairs, she saw Kisha, already playing the lady of the manor, pointing to where a vase should be placed.

Jude stood by the window, his back to her, deep in a business call. It was as if she, and the life they had shared, had already ceased to exist.

She walked down the staircase, one step at a time, the wheels of her suitcase bumping against the marble. Each sound was a beat of her broken heart.

As Joslyn reached the front door, dragging the small suitcase behind her, Jude's assistant, Travis Shaw, was waiting. He had the decency to look uncomfortable.

"Mrs. York... Ms. Cameron," he corrected himself hastily. "The car is ready to take you to the apartment."

Joslyn shook her head, her voice surprisingly steady. "That won't be necessary, Travis. I'll get my own ride."

She pulled out her phone. In full view of Travis, of the hovering house staff, of Jude who had just ended his call, she opened a legal services website. She began filling out an online petition for dissolution of marriage.

Jude's brow furrowed. "What are you doing? I gave you the agreement."

She ignored him, her fingers flying across the screen. When she reached the section on division of assets, she checked the box: "No contest. Waive all claims to marital property."

She hit submit. A confirmation page appeared. She turned the screen toward Jude, the bright light illuminating the cold fury in her eyes.

"Now, we're even," she said, her voice clear and ringing in the cavernous entryway. "Your money, your apartment... I don't want a single penny."

Jude's pupils contracted. He stared at her, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. He had expected tears, pleading, a scene. Not this cold, calculated severance.

Behind him, Kisha's lips curled into a smug, contemptuous smile. She thought Joslyn was putting on a brave face, a pathetic act of pride.

Joslyn's gaze shifted to Kisha, and her own mouth curved into a chilling smile.

She raised her voice, ensuring every servant within earshot could hear her clearly. "Ms. Franklin, congratulations. But there's something I feel I should remind you of."

Kisha's smile froze.

"Last month," Joslyn continued, her tone conversational, "you called me. You said your son, Leo, had been diagnosed with acute leukemia and needed an emergency bone marrow transplant. You begged me for two hundred thousand dollars, said it was his only hope."

Kisha's face went white as a sheet. "You... you're lying!"

"I felt sorry for you," Joslyn went on, her eyes scanning the perfectly healthy-looking child hiding behind Kisha. "A single mother with a sick child. It must be so difficult. But looking at him now..." She let the sentence hang in the air. "Leo seems to have made a miraculous recovery. The medical technology in New York is truly astounding."

A ripple of murmurs went through the staff. Their eyes, once filled with pity for Kisha, now held suspicion.

Jude's jaw tightened. He looked from Joslyn to a panicked Kisha, a deep line forming between his brows.

Kisha grabbed Jude's arm, her voice shrill with desperation. "Jude, don't listen to her! She's just jealous! She's trying to poison you against me!"

Joslyn didn't even bother to watch the performance. She had planted the seed of doubt. That was enough.

She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She turned to leave, but something on her wrist caught the light.

A jade bracelet. It had belonged to Jude's late mother, Clementine. She had placed it on Joslyn's wrist on her wedding day, calling it a symbol of the York family matriarch.

Joslyn took a deep breath. Without a moment's hesitation, she slid the cool, heavy bracelet from her arm.

She walked back to Jude, stopping directly in front of him. She took his hand, uncurled his fingers, and placed the bracelet in his palm.

Her skin was ice-cold against his. He flinched as if burned.

"This," she said, her voice soft but heavy, "belongs to you."

She met his stunned gaze. "Tell Clementine I'm sorry. I can't wear it for her anymore."

A sharp, unfamiliar pain lanced through Jude's chest, so intense it made him gasp. He felt an overwhelming urge to grab her, to demand what she meant, to stop her from walking away.

But his body wouldn't move.

A rideshare pulled up to the curb.

Joslyn turned, walked out the door without a backward glance, and got into the car. She disappeared from his life as cleanly as she had signed away their marriage.

Jude stood frozen in the doorway, his hand automatically clutching his chest. It felt hollow. A fragmented image flashed behind his eyes-Joslyn laughing, sunlight catching the green of the bracelet on her wrist. The memory vanished as quickly as it came, leaving a confusing ache. In his other hand, the jade bracelet was a cold, hard, damning weight.