The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 114

I immediately offered an apologetic smile. "I know it's presumptuous of me to visit at this hour, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened today. I felt I absolutely had to come in person and offer you both a sincere apology."

Terrence rolled his eyes dramatically and looked at his wife. "Listen to her, honey. Smooth-talking like that, she's definitely up to no good."

"You must be Beatrice," I said, taking a step forward before the patient could respond. "I had the privilege of attending one of your concerts in the past. It was an incredibly moving performance. I never thought I'd have the honor of meeting you in person."

I had done my research before coming. Beatrice had been a renowned pianist before joining the Thorne Family. She had dedicated herself to being a full-time wife after marrying into wealth, but fate was cruel—six months ago, she had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor, leading to her frequent visits to Capital General.

At the mention of her concert, Beatrice's interest was clearly piqued, though skepticism lingered in her eyes. "I've held quite a few concerts. Which one are you talking about?"

"'The bridge shifted by zero point five millimeters,'" I recited her monologue from that specific performance. "'I used to be able to tune the tension coefficient of every string with my eyes closed, but I've realized that true music doesn't reside in muscle memory.'"

As soon as the words left my mouth, Beatrice's eyes turned red, and she seemed to sink into a deep, sorrowful nostalgia.

Terrence quickly stepped forward, pointing an aggressive finger at me. "What kind of nonsense are you spouting? Get the hell out of here right now, or I'll make you—"

He was cut off by Beatrice. She forced a strained, polite smile onto her pale face. "Dr. Hayes is my audience member. Be polite."

The towering six-foot man instantly became as docile as a puppy.

"Thank you, Beatrice," I said earnestly. "Before coming here, I kept wondering why a low-level anesthesiologist like me would make Mr. Thorne so defensive. Now I understand."

"Understand what?"

"He cares about you," I said, glancing at Terrence seriously. "Because he cares, he personally scrutinizes even an insignificant anesthesiologist conducting a routine round, right?"

As I spoke, I brushed my bangs aside, revealing the bruised and swollen lump on my forehead.

Beatrice looked taken aback. "Dr. Hayes, it looks like you took quite a hit."

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