Secretly Cherished: From Forgotten Bride To The Mafia Boss's Queen

"Please take your marriage certificate," the City Hall staff member said, holding out the document.

Thick-framed glasses sat on Ashley Scott's face, while a high turtleneck sweater crept up to conceal much of her jaw.

Her eyes shifted toward her now legal husband, who seemed uninterested in the details of the certificate as she was.

Towering at 6.2 feet, he cut an imposing figure. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and the beard lining his jaw only sharpened his distant and commanding presence.

"We are only getting married to reassure our families," Ashley said after steadying her voice, "but now that we're husband and wife, I think we should at least exchange contact details."

Elijah Fletcher looked down at the woman dressed as if she had stepped out of a library, then pressed a credit card into her hand. "That will not be necessary. If my grandmother had not threatened me with her surgery, this marriage would not exist. Use the card however you want. Do not reach out to me unless you intend to file for divorce."

Those words made Ashley speak up without thinking. "I only meant that having your number would make things simpler when I divorce-"

Her sentence never reached its end. Elijah had already turned away and made his way towards the exit without another glance.

To him, the marriage felt like a formality, and the identity or appearance of the woman beside him held no real importance.

Without lingering, Elijah stepped out of the City Hall and slid into a high-end vehicle waiting nearby.

Once inside, he took off his sunglasses and removed the beard, exposing a small mole near the outer corner of his right eye. His sharply defined features were impossible to ignore. "Drive," he said flatly.

At once, the driver answered, "Yes, Mr. Fletcher." Then he started the car.

That very day, Ashley boarded a flight and left the country.

Fueled by stubborn determination and sustained on no more than four hours of rest each night, she completed a Ph.D. in clinical medicine within two years.

Following her graduation, she joined Doctors Without Borders and spent an entire year in active war zones, where she helped save countless lives.

Three years passed before Ashley finally returned home. When news reached her that rare medicinal herbs had been discovered in a remote mountain forest, she wasted no time. She packed her medical supplies and set out immediately.

While she was carefully scanning the area for the herbs, a rough and strained voice suddenly sounded nearby. "Help me."

Alerted by the cry, Ashley moved toward the source as the smell of blood became increasingly noticeable. Soon enough, an overturned off-road vehicle came into view along the side of the road.

A silhouette caught her attention inside the wreck, and her instinct to save a life took over as she sprinted toward it.

With urgency in her voice, Ashley called out, "Can you hear me? Are you injured?"

Slumped in the driver's seat was a man with sharply defined features. Blood ran down from his forehead, and a small mole near the corner of his right eye stood out against his smooth skin.

Any thought about his appearance vanished at once because the sharp stench of gasoline spread through the air.

Bracing his weight against her body, she dragged the tall man away from the wreck and struggled toward a clearer patch of ground.

They had not even gone thirty feet when a thunderous blast tore through the air as the vehicle detonated.

Fire leapt upward in an instant, and a wave of blistering heat mixed with flying debris rushed straight at them.

A powerful force slammed into Ashley's back, and she lost her balance before crashing into the tall grass, pulling the man down with her. A painful sound escaped Ashley's lips as his full weight pinned her chest and stole the air from her lungs.

With effort and growing panic, Ashley tried to shove him aside while twisting her body to break free.

Despite her struggle, the man did not react or move at all.

Her brows knitted as she prepared to push harder, only for the chill of metal to suddenly graze the side of her neck.

At once, Ashley went completely still.

"Stay right where you are," the man said, pressing close to her ear, and the command carried unmistakable force.

Years of medical training told Ashley how little pressure it would take to end a life at that spot.

The realization struck her hard. Had she nearly died after saving someone who turned on her?

Her tone stripped of warmth, she replied, "Sir, I am the reason you are still breathing right now."

While speaking, Ashley slowly shifted her free hand and let her fingers inch toward the scalpel in her pant pocket.

Right as she steadied her breathing and prepared to strike back, the weight against her neck suddenly disappeared.

She heard something metal fall on the grass as the man's overheated body slumped onto her and went completely limp.

Using all her strength, Ashley wriggled out from beneath him, and her eyes swept over his solid build.

Looking more carefully, she noticed a dark patch soaking into his right thigh, where a bullet wound had been bleeding freely.

A troubling thought crossed Ashley's mind as she studied him. Could the accident have happened because of the injury to his leg?

Her frown deepened when she realized how much blood he had lost, and she knew that without immediate care, amputation was a real possibility.

"You really are fortunate to run into someone like me today," she whispered, and she wasted no time getting started.

After completing a thorough check, she verified that the bullet was lodged near his inner thigh, dangerously close to a major artery, which explained the heavy bleeding.

Handling the injury properly meant that his pants had to come off.

Ashley's gaze shifted to the unconscious man, whose brows remained tightly drawn, and she made her decision without further delay.

From her medical kit, Ashley took out a pair of scissors and sliced through the soaked fabric with care, exposing his black underwear and the obvious outline beneath it.

A low whistle escaped her as she lifted an eyebrow and said, "Well, that is... impressive."

Setting her kit on the ground, she organized her instruments with practiced ease.

Keeping her expression steady, she guided the scalpel with precision, steering clear of vital vessels as she removed the bullet lodged deep inside.

Smooth and controlled, her fingers cleaned the wound, stitched the torn flesh, and secured fresh bandages in place.

Satisfaction flickered across her face as she examined her work, and she muttered, "Perfect."

Next, Ashley reached into her pocket and took out a lollipop, peeling off the wrapper before letting the sweetness settle on her tongue as her eyes drifted back to his face.

Something about his features stirred her thoughts. Why did he seem so familiar, as though she had crossed paths with him before?

That uneasy recognition made her furrow her brows, and she lifted a hand to cover the lower half of his face.

Instead of fading, the strange sense of recognition only intensified.

With her head tilted to one side, she searched her memory with effort, yet no clear answer surfaced.

The strain etched across his face from blood loss caught her attention and sparked a sudden idea.

Gently squeezing his cheeks, Ashley leaned closer and transferred the orange-flavored lollipop from her mouth into his. "You need some sugar in you," she said quietly.

Feeling content that she had done all she could, Ashley picked up her medical kit and prepared to leave the area.

Before she could take another step, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from every direction, and several men dressed in black moved in to block her path.

A mocking laugh came from the leader of the group. "Look at this. The powerful and untouchable Mr. Fletcher was reduced to this state, lying here like a discarded animal and completely at my mercy for once."

With his shoe, he shoved the unconscious man's slack hand aside and shoved a gun firmly against his temple. "It looks like fate has finally decided to favor me today."

As his voice faded, his finger slowly curled around the trigger.

In the instant before the trigger could be pulled, a silver blur cut through the air.

Thrown with flawless accuracy, a thin scalpel struck the gun and knocked the shot off course, forcing the group's leader to miss.

Without giving the men in black time to recover, Ashley moved ahead and placed herself squarely between the unconscious man and the weapon aimed at him.

Sharp resolve shone through her clear eyes as she delivered a firm warning. "You will not harm the patient I just saved."

Flexing his tingling hand, the leader curled his lip in contempt and replied, "Stupid girl. Get on your knees and beg right now, and I might let you entertain us for a moment before you die."

The moment he finished speaking, crude laughter rang out, and several filthy gazes dragged slowly over Ashley's curves.

One voice rose above the rest with a vulgar shout. "She has a great body. I am taking the first round!"

A cold scoff left Ashley's lips as she adjusted her sleeve, and another polished scalpel slid neatly into her grasp.

Gentle morning light washed over her youthful face, yet her eyes carried a lethal calm that made the air feel heavy.

The first man who rushed toward her never got close, as her scalpel sliced cleanly across his chest.

Agony tore through his chest without warning, and a wave of icy numbness swept over his body. When his gaze dropped, he realized his artery had been severed, and the pain forced him down onto his knees, leaving him unable to move.

Reacting at once, the man standing behind him lifted his weapon and aimed straight at Ashley's face.

Before he could even pull the trigger, his eyes locked with Ashley's. A sharp crack split the air, and an overwhelming force shattered his wrist.

"Ah... my hand!" His screams carried across the open field without restraint.

Still frozen in disbelief, the remaining men never stood a chance. One by one, their throats were cut by Ashley's scalpel, blood spraying as their bodies were sent flying with brutal kicks.

Standing tall with casual contempt, Ashley slipped the scalpel away and said, "Pathetic."

Without warning, a second wave of men dressed in black emerged, their numbers far exceeding those who had fallen moments earlier.

A shadow crossed Ashley's eyes. Just who was this man, to draw so many killers to his side?

In the next instant, a tall presence stirred behind her.

Turning around, Ashley realized the man who was supposed to remain unconscious for hours was now standing awake right before her.

A sharp and dangerous intensity settled in Elijah's eyes, and his presence alone felt oppressive. With cold restraint, he said to his bodyguards, "No one touches her."

Casually, as if the threat had nothing to do with her, Ashley slid the scalpel back into her sleeve.

Moving quickly, Maverick Clarke, the lead bodyguard, placed a cloak around Elijah's shoulders and said, "We apologize, Mr. Fletcher. We arrived too late. The Nocturne discovered our arrangement here and crossed into our territory. Their people have already been taken care of."

At that report, Elijah's brow furrowed, and his rough voice carried a clear menace. "Send their bodies back to the Nocturne's base. Make sure they understand that I will personally collect this debt."

Without hesitation, Maverick answered, "Understood, Mr. Fletcher."

Nearby, Ashley stood frozen as their exchange sank in.

The Nocturne. Mr. Fletcher.

Could this man really be Elijah Fletcher, the head of the Eclipse Syndicate and the only son of Jeff Fletcher, the richest man in Uprurg and the chairman of the Sky Group?

Stories of his brutality and merciless nature surfaced in her mind, each one darker than the last.

Instinct told her to steer clear of a man like him.

With her decision made, Ashley lifted her medical kit and prepared to walk away, only for a firm arm to cut off her exit.

Glancing over her shoulder, she met Elijah's cold stare. "Do you need something else?" she asked calmly.

Without emotion, Elijah studied her, and his voice remained flat as he spoke. "I am looking for a private physician. $5 million a year. You will come with me."

"I will pass," Ashley responded lightly before turning away again.

Increasing the stakes, Elijah added, "$15 million."

Her steps slowed, and she turned back with deliberate ease. A bright smile appeared on Ashley's face as she spoke. "Since you are being this generous, I will take the job."

Carrying her medical kit, Ashley followed Elijah and got into the waiting car with him.

Some time later, the quiet inside the vehicle was broken when Elijah's phone began to ring.

The caller was his grandmother, Rita Fletcher.

With obvious excitement, Rita spoke into the phone. "Eli, your wife has just returned after finishing three years of studies abroad. You should contact her and set up a meeting. I want to meet my granddaughter-in-law."

A slight frown appeared on Elijah's face. So she was back.

The timing could not have been better, since this gave him the perfect chance to meet her and bring up the divorce.

"Grandma, send me her contact number. I will take care of the arrangements," he replied, speaking evenly.

Almost immediately, Rita forwarded the number to him.

Acting without delay, Elijah pressed the dial.

Seconds later, a ringtone echoed right beside him from Ashley's phone.

Shock tightened Elijah's gaze, and he turned his head sharply to look straight at Ashley.

At the same time, a mechanical and emotionless voice sounded in Elijah's ear. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."

Nearby, Ashley had already picked up a call; her voice kept low as she turned her back toward him.

Lowering his phone slowly, Elijah watched the screen fade to black while his thoughts drifted back to the day of the marriage registration.

That memory felt blurred and indistinct.

What lingered most was the image of a woman hidden behind thick black-framed glasses and dressed in something plain and outdated, nothing like the strikingly beautiful woman sitting beside him now.

A faint, self-directed smile tugged at Elijah's lips, and the tension between his brows eased.

He must be reading too much into it.

Elsewhere in the car, Ashley was quietly speaking with her grandfather, Rory Scott.

"Sweetie, you left the country right after getting married," Rory said gently. "How does that count as being a proper wife?"

A frustrated pout formed on Ashley's lips as anger simmered beneath the surface. For three full years, that man had never called her even once, and it felt as though he had completely forgotten he was married.

With a gentle sigh, Rory offered his advice. "Since you have come back, you should make an effort to get along with him and take on your duties as a wife. If you can, give me a few great-grandchildren as well. That way, I will die a happy man."

From the start, Ashley had entered the marriage purely out of obligation and never planned to tie her future to a man she did not know.

Even so, she answered obediently, "Alright. I will talk things through with him. Grandpa, can you give me his contact number?"

"That is more like it. I will ask his grandmother and send it to you," Rory said with a chuckle before ending the call.

In truth, Ashley had only agreed to meet her husband so she could bring up the matter of divorce.

Lost in thought, she did not notice when the car slowed to a stop in front of a grand villa.

Casting her a sideways glance, Elijah spoke with a hint of playful curiosity in his eyes. "What is your name?"

"Ashley Scott," Ashley replied, offering a polite smile, and her eyes curved slightly even though a chill lingered within them.

Elijah only arched an eyebrow, falling silent.

Once they stepped away from the car, Ashley briefly thought about asking whether he needed support to make it inside.

That thought faded quickly when she noticed Elijah exit on his own, his pace steady and confident.

Never before had she witnessed someone with injuries that severe move as though their body felt no pain at all.

Within the villa, two people were already waiting in the living room.

One of them was a man with short red hair, a black earring fixed to his right ear, and a wing tattoo stretching along his neck. His gaze carried a cold and merciless edge.

Next to him sat a woman dressed in a mini skirt and a camel-colored trench coat, her makeup bold and heavy. The moment she looked at Ashley, open hostility flickered across her face.

Both of them were Elijah's most dependable subordinates, Darin Watson and Luciana Marsh.

Without hesitation, Luciana hurried forward, and concern showed plainly on her face. "Mr. Fletcher, I heard you were attacked by the Nocturne. Are you hurt anywhere?"

In a low and controlled tone, Elijah answered, "Everything has already been handled."

After that, Luciana shifted her attention to Ashley, who remained at his side. "Who is this woman?"

"She serves as my private physician." Elijah spoke in a tone that carried no trace of warmth.

For a brief moment, Luciana stiffened, and clear hostility showed in her gaze. "We already have a full-time doctor here. Why would you need to bring in someone else?"

Ever since she was fifteen, she had stayed close to Elijah, and during all those years, he had never once brought another woman into the villa.

Fixing her with a sharp and unyielding look, Elijah said, "She's exclusively for me."

After that, he shifted his attention to the butler and gave a short command. "Escort Ms. Scott upstairs and let her rest."

Color drained from Luciana's face, and she spoke again with urgency. "Mr. Fletcher, allowing someone we do not know to stay here puts you at risk."

Hearing that, Elijah narrowed his eyes, and the air around him grew heavy with warning.

He had no tolerance for being challenged.

Sensing the shift in his mood, Luciana quickly bowed her head. "I apologize, Mr. Fletcher. I spoke out of turn."

Once she straightened, her sharp stare followed Ashley as she went upstairs.

There was no chance she would allow that infuriating woman to remain here.

Without sparing a glance back, Elijah headed upstairs and made his way into the study.

He could not recall what his wife in name even looked like, and he knew Rita would not let it slide if he failed to recognize his own wife when they eventually met.

All at once, a memory surfaced about the marriage certificate he had casually tossed into a drawer inside the study.

Reaching the desk, Elijah pulled the drawer open, and the certificate lay exactly where he remembered leaving it.

After lifting it out, he opened the document, and shock spread across his face as his eyes fixed on what he saw.