The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

The honey-colored chest came into view, the muscles strong and smooth, yet marred by numerous scars crisscrossing in a menacing dance. Brittany winced slightly, moving closer to the bed to gently wipe the blood from his face with some gauze.

He had sharp, striking features - eyebrows like raven wings and skin as smooth as a peeled egg. Handsome, yes. But clearly no saint.

The doctor continued his work, perhaps a bit too harshly given the grimace on the man's face. Brittany instinctively said, "Be gentle, please."

"Miss, I am being as gentle as I can," the doctor replied, somewhat helplessly.

Weren't all unconscious patients oblivious to pain?

Brittany felt a strange sense of familiarity looking at the man's face, but she couldn't place where she might have seen him before. As the memory eluded her, she let it go.

The doctor spent over an hour tending to the man's injuries before leaving some fever-reducing medicine, just in case.

"Miss, his wounds are severe and could easily get infected. If he develops a fever, administer the medicine. Call me if things get worse."

"Okay."

Confused, she approached the window and noticed a trail of blood on

bloodstains and

her son,

sleep with

"Of course, you can."

bed, but she had placed a little bed in her room for

into his bed. "Did the noise from the

party downstairs had just ended, and Daniel's room faced the

he admitted

cheek softly. "Time to

dreams were tumultuous-flashes of thunderstorms, clattering

she refrained from making any noise. She covered her face with her

threw off the

into the bathroom. She splashed her