The Ugly Healer: The Only Prescription Is Her Comeback

"Coat, hat, mask..." Eleanor Lloyd whispered the checklist under her breath after she slipped into the blind spot of the security camera. Once she was certain she was ready, she stepped up and knocked on the door of Room 1619.

"Hello, I'm the golden—"

The rest of her introduction vanished as a rough hand seized her shoulder and dragged her inside.

Her bag slipped free and hit the floor, its contents scattering in every direction.

The sudden movement made her head spin, and before she could regain her balance, she was forced down.

Austin Carter shoved her onto the bed, his weight trapping her there while his hands moved with reckless urgency. His breath burned against her skin, heavy and uncontrolled.

Shock snapped Eleanor back to herself. She grabbed his wrist, anger cutting through the panic. "What do you think you're doing? Stop it!"

She had come to negotiate the sale of her Rh null blood, also known as golden blood, to the Murray family's heiress. She was not here for this.

With one hand, Austin caught her wrists and forced them above her head. Then he leaned down and bit into her shoulder, hard enough to break skin.

A cry tore from Eleanor as she fought back, her voice shaking. "Let go of me, or I'm calling the police!"

A bitter mix of chemicals and blood filled her senses, and dread settled deep in her chest. Something was very wrong. This man's movements were erratic, his strength unfocused. Could he be under the influence of drugs?

Austin's breathing grew rough and uneven as he gripped her shoulders, holding her down with brute force to stop her from resisting.

Pain shot through Eleanor's shoulders, sharp enough to make her teeth clench. She shoved at him with everything she had, but her strength meant nothing against his weight.

Austin paid no attention to her resistance. His hands were rough and frantic as he tore at her clothes, his mouth leaving a trail of disordered, unwanted kisses.

Panic drove her instincts. Her fingers swept the space beside her until they closed around something solid. A vase.

Without hesitation, she swung it as hard as she could and struck his forehead.

A low grunt escaped him as his body lurched sideways and collapsed.

Eleanor did not waste a second. She scrambled off the bed, stuffed her scattered belongings back into her bag with shaking hands, and ran from the hotel without looking back.

—

Nearly an hour later, Austin, who had already woken up, sat on a sofa, his expression dark and unreadable.

One long finger tapped steadily against the tabletop, each beat carrying a quiet sense of menace.

Standing nearby, Braeden Owen, his trusted subordinate, glanced at the fresh bandage wrapped around Austin's head before saying, "The woman who came in earlier was wearing a hat and a mask. We never got a clear look at her face."

He held out his phone and played the surveillance footage.

The figure on the