He Broke My Hand, Then Begged Me to Save His Mother

I had just finished my last specialist consultation of the day when a pregnant woman barged in.

My medical assistant reminded her she needed to check in at the front desk. She rolled her eyes.

“Check in, my ass! I'm carrying the CEO of Farley Group's baby. That's all the appointment I need!”

But the CEO of Farley Group, Malcolm Farley, was my husband. Seven years married. Devoted, or so I'd believed.

She must have noticed my face drain of color, because her lips curled and she tugged her collar low, eyes brimming with triumph and provocation.