The NeuroSurgeon Forbidden Obsession

The ballroom looked like something torn from the glossy pages of a luxury magazine. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead like frozen stars, casting warm light across a sea of elegantly dressed guests. Diamonds sparkled on delicate wrists and graceful necks, while men in tailored suits discussed stocks, politics, and business ventures over glasses of imported wine. ​Amid all the glamour, Eveline Harper stood in a white engagement dress and felt completely out of place. Nobody was here for her; every guest in the room had come for Julian Vale—the heir to the Vale empire, the future CEO of Vale Holdings, and the golden son whom every woman wanted and every businessman admired. In less than an hour, he was supposed to become her husband. ​A burst of laughter drew her attention near the fountain, where a group of women stood whispering among themselves. Their voices carried easily through the music. ​"That's her?" "I expected someone prettier." "I heard she's adopted." "And poor." ​Eveline continued walking as if she hadn't heard a word. Years ago, comments like those would have shattered her. Now, they only left invisible bruises. She reached the bar and ordered a glass of wine, which the bartender handed over with a sympathetic smile. The simple gesture caught her off guard, and she appreciated it more than he could possibly know. At least someone in the room looked at her like she was a person, instead of just an accessory attached to Julian Vale. ​She lifted the glass toward her lips, but suddenly, someone slammed into her from behind. ​Wine splashed across the front of her white dress. Eveline froze as a dark red stain spread rapidly across the expensive fabric. A young couple staggered past her, laughing hysterically; the woman clung to the man's neck while he nearly tripped over his own feet. Neither of them apologized, or even looked back. ​"I'm sorry, miss," the bartender said. ​Eveline forced a smile. "It's not your fault." ​The engagement ceremony hadn't even started, and she already looked like a disaster. Perfect. ​"The stain will set if you leave it too long," he warned. ​She glanced down at the ruined dress and sighed. "I'll take care of it." ​She had barely taken two steps away when a familiar voice stopped her cold. "What happened to you?" ​Mrs. Vale. Of course. ​Eveline slowly turned around. Julian's mother stood before her in a crimson designer gown that likely cost more than Eveline earned in an entire year, flanked by two of her closest friends. All three stared at the stain. One woman pressed a hand dramatically against her chest, murmuring, "Oh dear," while the other wrinkled her nose and muttered, "It looks awful." ​Mrs. Vale's expression darkened. "You never fail to embarrass me." ​The words struck harder than they should have—perhaps because Mrs. Vale wasn't her mother, or perhaps because she had spent years making sure Eveline never forgot that fact. ​"Where's Julian?" Mrs. Vale demanded. ​Eveline swallowed. "I haven't seen him." ​The older woman's eyes narrowed. "Then find him. Go change your dress, find Julian, and try not to create any more problems." Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Vale turned and walked away, her friends following immediately. Not one of them looked back. ​Eveline watched them disappear into the crowd. Witches. It was a childish name to secretly call them, but it made her feel a little better. ​Drawing a slow breath, she headed toward the staircase. But the moment she stepped onto the first stair, a guest impatiently shoved an empty champagne flute into her hand. ​"Excuse me," the man said. ​Eveline blinked. "What?" ​"My glass is empty." ​She stared at him. "So?" ​The man frowned, and the woman standing beside him rolled her eyes. "Get another one." ​For a moment, Eveline simply looked between them before realization struck. They thought she worked there. The stained dress, her simple appearance, and the fact that she stood alone while every important guest mingled with powerful families meant that to them, she wasn't the bride. She was staff. ​"I'm not—" ​"Then hurry up," the woman snapped. ​Several guests turned to watch, and heat rushed into Eveline's cheeks. Then, she noticed Mrs. Vale observing the interaction from across the ballroom, her expression delivering a clear warning: Don't make a scene. ​Eveline clenched her jaw. Silently, she took the glass, retrieved another drink, and handed it back. Neither guest thanked her; they simply turned away as though she were invisible, as though she didn't matter. ​Eveline climbed the staircase before anyone else could stop her. With every step, the uneasy feeling in her stomach grew stronger. Something wasn't right. Julian should have been downstairs greeting guests and preparing for the ceremony, doing literally anything other than disappearing. ​The second-floor hallway was quiet. Too quiet. At the end of the corridor stood Julian's bedroom door, firmly closed, though music pounded from inside. Eveline frowned and knocked. No answer. She knocked again, but still, nothing. ​A strange feeling settled heavily in her chest. Slowly, she reached for the handle. ​The door opened, and her world shattered. ​For a moment, everything stopped—her breathing, her thoughts, her ability to move. Julian was on the bed, naked. And beneath him was her cousin, also naked, their bodies tangled together. The room smelled heavily of expensive perfume, sweat, and betrayal. ​Her cousin looked up first, her eyes widening. Julian turned a second later, and their gazes locked. ​Eveline waited for guilt, for panic, for shame—for anything. Instead, he just looked annoyed, as though she had interrupted an important business meeting. ​"Shut the door, Eveline." ​Her knees nearly buckled. That was it. No apology, no explanation, no remorse. Just irritation. The man she was supposed to marry in less than an hour had been caught sleeping with her cousin, and somehow she was the inconvenience. ​She stepped backward. Oddly enough, her heart wasn't breaking—not yet. It simply felt empty and hollow. She closed the door, turned around, and walked away. ​Downstairs, the orchestra began playing the song selected for the engagement ceremony. Guests laughed and champagne glasses clinked together as the celebration continued. They were waiting for her—waiting for the future Mrs. Vale. ​Eveline stopped halfway down the staircase and stared at the diamond ring on her finger. It was the ring everyone envied, the ring that was supposed to change her life. ​Slowly, she slid it off. For years, she had done exactly what everyone wanted—her adoptive father, Mrs. Vale, Julian, everyone. She had spent her entire life saying yes, even when every part of her wanted to scream no. ​Her fingers tightened around the ring. ​"No," she whispered. ​This time, she meant it.