Chapter 1Emergency Room Romance: My Ex vs. The Pack

I rushed to the ER for an emergency, only to find my ex-husband on duty.

He held my chart, not even bothering to look up, and sneered coldly:

"Three years later, and you still can't find a man to hold your hand while you're sick?"

I stayed silent, staring at the ceiling, trying not to scream from the pain.

He continued, "Call a family member. You need surgery, and I need to discuss the procedure with your next of kin."

"And don't try to call me. We're divorced."

The next day.

A chart-topping pop star. A billionaire CEO. A genius Formula 1 racer.

Three drop-dead gorgeous men appeared in my hospital room simultaneously.

They took turns grilling him about my condition and treatment plan.

His eye twitched, holding back a breakdown, his eyes rimmed red as he cornered me.

"You're telling me all three of these men are your family?!"

"Yup. Does the hospital have a rule against having more than three?"

* * *

I took an Uber to the ER over the weekend.

I never expected to run into "The Ex" working the night shift.

Looking at the man in the white coat, gold-rimmed glasses, and that stoic, unsmiling face...

My heart hurt worse than my abdomen.

We’ve been divorced for three years.

I didn't expect our reunion to look like this.

Ethan Hayes stared at the clipboard, eyes glued to the paper.

He ordered me onto the exam table.

Then, his long, slender fingers gently pressed against my lower abdomen.

"Does it hurt here? Anywhere else? Is it a cramping pain or intermittent?"

I turned my head away. I didn't want to look at him.

"It feels like my insides are being twisted."

His voice was cold, drifting down from under the bright fluorescent lights.

"It’s likely appendicitis. It needs to come out. But there's an issue..."

He paused.

He finally looked up, taking in my pale face.

He frowned.

"You're not in good shape. I suggest surgery immediately to relieve the pain."

"Where is your current husband?"

When I didn't answer, he went back to scribbling on my chart.

Finally, he looked me dead in the eye, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm.

"Three years later, Maya. Did you really fail to find a single man willing to accompany you to the hospital?"

I stayed silent, the pain forcing me to stare at the ceiling tiles.

He scoffed.

"No need to play dead. This is standard protocol. Get a family member here. You need surgery, and I need to clear the plan with them."

"And don't try to list me. We are divorced."

I finally couldn't hold it back.

"Seriously, Ethan? Three years and you've only gotten more narcissistic? I'd date a literal garbage can before I'd crawl back to you."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I didn't even get the satisfaction of seeing his face turn green.

Because the pain spiked, and I passed out cold.

Appendicitis isn't a disease, but man, it hurts like hell.