Falling for My Surgeon Boss
386 Views · Ongoing · Chloe
I was just the most invisible nurse in the hospital.
My grandmother scraped by on odd jobs to raise me, scraping together every penny to get me through nursing school. And him? New York’s youngest genius surgeon, the black sheep of the Clinton family. He existed in a world I could never reach. I never thought our paths would cross.
Until a mafia gun was pressed to my forehead.
Dr. Albert Clinton—the cold, unreachable surgeon—stepped right in front of me.
“You want her? You’ll have to get through me first.”
He dragged me into his life, and I fell for him like a moth to a flame. I truly thought a Cinderella tale could be real for me.
Then he spoke in that same unruffled tone: “I’m getting married.”
I forced a smile and wished him all the best. I boarded the plane and cried nonstop the whole flight.
But he burst into the departure gate, eyes bloodshot, gasping for air.
“Where do you think you’re running off to?”
I pressed my palms against his chest, my voice cracking apart: “You’re getting married—”
He yanked me tight into his arms and crashed his lips roughly against mine.
“My bride’s the one trying to run. Who else am I meant to marry?”
My grandmother scraped by on odd jobs to raise me, scraping together every penny to get me through nursing school. And him? New York’s youngest genius surgeon, the black sheep of the Clinton family. He existed in a world I could never reach. I never thought our paths would cross.
Until a mafia gun was pressed to my forehead.
Dr. Albert Clinton—the cold, unreachable surgeon—stepped right in front of me.
“You want her? You’ll have to get through me first.”
He dragged me into his life, and I fell for him like a moth to a flame. I truly thought a Cinderella tale could be real for me.
Then he spoke in that same unruffled tone: “I’m getting married.”
I forced a smile and wished him all the best. I boarded the plane and cried nonstop the whole flight.
But he burst into the departure gate, eyes bloodshot, gasping for air.
“Where do you think you’re running off to?”
I pressed my palms against his chest, my voice cracking apart: “You’re getting married—”
He yanked me tight into his arms and crashed his lips roughly against mine.
“My bride’s the one trying to run. Who else am I meant to marry?”

















































