The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 12

Taking the blow in silence, I walked out of the interview room with a blank expression.

My gut told me I had completely bombed the interview.

Dragging my feet as if they were made of stone, I reached the corner of the hallway just as a sickeningly sweet voice drifted into my ears.

"It went really well overall," Zoey chirped into her phone, updating someone important. "I really owe it all to Ferris's interview notes."

When our eyes met, she quickly ended the call and bounced over to me.

"Selena," she said, her eyes curving into a smile as she cradled a folder against her chest like a prized possession. "How did your interview go?"

"I made a mistake," I replied, my voice flat.

"That's okay!" Zoey cooed, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "The interviewers are all top-tier experts. It's hard for any of us to be absolutely perfect."

As she reached out a slender arm to pat me, the folder slipped from her grasp and landed squarely at my feet with a soft thud.

I glanced down and clearly saw the bold, elegant handwriting on the cover. My heart skipped a beat.

It was Ferris's handwriting.

Zoey and I bent down at the exact same time, both of us grabbing the folder.

The moment my fingertips brushed the page, I flinched and pulled back, watching helplessly as the younger girl carefully gathered it into her arms.

She treated it like an absolute treasure.

"Sorry you had to see that," Zoey said, shooting me a bashful look. "These are the interview notes Ferris gave me. They're entirely handwritten. They mean a lot to me."

She stuck her tongue out playfully, radiating youthful innocence.

The folder was thick—at least a dozen pages. If it was completely handwritten, it would have taken hours.

The neurosurgery department worked around the clock, and Ferris was always pressed for time. If he didn't care deeply, where would he find the hours to handwrite a dozen pages of notes?

All those times he claimed the department was too busy, that he couldn't step away, that he didn't even have time to grab lunch or pick up his laundry—they were all lies.

Just pathetic excuses to brush me off.

I got on the elevator in a daze.

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