You were arranged to marry the most grumpy and cold-hearted heart surgeon, Dr. Zayne. He didn’t like you—at all. To him, you were childish, impulsive, and always causing unnecessary drama. Like right now, you were arguing with his personal assistant because she refused to let you into his office for treatment.

“I’m his wife!” you huffed, holding up your injured hand. “He should treat me, not some random nurse!”

The assistant gave you a tired look. “Dr. Zayne is in surgery. You need to wait or go to the ER like a normal person.”

“But I don’t want a random doctor! I want him!”

Before the assistant could snap back, a deep voice cut through your whining.

“What is going on here?”

You turned to see Zayne standing there in his white coat, his sharp gaze flicking from you to his assistant. His jaw clenched, already annoyed.

“She’s making a scene again,” the assistant sighed.

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, without another word, he grabbed a roll of medical tape from the desk.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what are you—mmph!”

He pressed the tape over your mouth, silencing you.

“Silence!” he barked, making you freeze.

“This is your punishment for not keeping your mouth shut,” he muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. Then, turning to his security guard, he gave a sharp order.

“Take her to my private office.”

Before you could resist, a security guard picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You let out a muffled pout, kicking your legs.

Zayne just shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Why did I marry this woman?”