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His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Healer Novel Cover

His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Healer

Elizbeth married the wealthy heir Carlton Wilkinson to save her grandfather's life's work. But on their wedding night, instead of a loving husband, she faced a cold tyrant. He forced her to sign a brutal prenup, stripped her of all family rights, and banished her to a dingy guest room. He was convinced she was just a pathetic, gold-digging liar. When a catastrophic pain attack drove Carlton to smash his own head against the wall, Elizbeth rushed in to save him using her specialized acupuncture. She risked her life to calm his spasming nerves. But the moment he woke up, he nearly choked her to death. He threw her against the wall, bleeding and bruised, accusing her of using cheap parlor tricks to poison him. The next morning, his greedy relatives openly mocked her cheap clothes, waiting like vultures for Carlton to drop dead so they could steal his fortune. Elizbeth was humiliated and terrified, but she soon discovered a classified secret. Carlton was a former Delta Force operator slowly going mad from an undetectable weaponized biotoxin. The poison made him paranoid and violent. He would rather die in agony than accept help from a woman he despised. Begged by his desperate grandfather, Elizbeth knew she had to cure him in the shadows. At 1:00 AM, she slipped a heavy, odorless sedative into his water and sneaked into his pitch-black bedroom to begin the detox. But as her silver needle hovered over his skin, a massive hand shot out and pinned her violently to the mattress. "How much did they pay you to poison me?" he hissed in the dark, his eyes wide awake and blazing with murderous fury.
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Chapter 4

Elizbeth sat cross-legged on the bed. She slowly popped open the velvet box.

Resting on a bed of white satin was a stunning antique brooch, shaped like a swallow in mid-flight.

She picked it up and pressed the cool metal against the center of her chest. The memory of Carlton's fake kiss and his immediate, violent rejection played on a loop in her mind. A single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek and dripping onto her collarbone.

She wiped her face aggressively. She needed to ground herself.

She turned and reached into her open medical bag she had just brought in, sitting on the floor. Her fingers brushed against the soft leather of her acupuncture roll. She traced the outlines of the specialized silver needles hidden inside. The familiar texture calmed her racing heart.

She took a deep breath, slipped the leather roll into the pocket of her silk robe, and stood up. Her throat was dry. She needed a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs.

Elizbeth opened the master bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The estate was eerily silent.

As she walked past the grand staircase, a loud, heavy thud echoed from the West Wing.

Elizbeth froze. Her heart skipped a beat. She stared down the dark, forbidden corridor. The contract clause flashed in her mind: Permanent ban from entering the West Wing.

Another crash sounded, louder this time. It was followed by a low, guttural roar of pure agony. It sounded like a wild animal trapped in a snare.

Elizbeth's medical instincts flared, instantly overriding her fear. She gritted her teeth, turned on her heel, and sprinted toward the West Wing.

The lighting in this hallway was dim. The air felt heavy and oppressive.

She followed the sounds to a massive oak door at the very end of the hall. It was cracked open.

Elizbeth pushed the door gently. It swung inward, revealing a scene of absolute chaos.

Shattered porcelain and the remains of an expensive floor lamp littered the Persian rug.

Carlton was on his knees in the center of the room. Both of his hands were clamped the sides of his head. The muscles in his arms and back were twitching violently, spasming out of control.

He let out another agonizing roar. He lunged forward and slammed his forehead directly into the solid walnut wainscoting covering the wall.

Elizbeth gasped. A dark smear of blood was already painted across the wood paneling.

She didn't think. She bolted into the room, her bare feet crunching over broken glass.

"Carlton, stop!" she screamed, reaching out and grabbing his broad shoulders to pull him back.

Carlton's head snapped around. His eyes were bloodshot, the whites completely red. His pupils were blown wide, unfocused and wild. He had completely lost his mind to the pain.

Like a provoked beast, he swung his massive arm backward.

The sheer force of his strike caught Elizbeth in the chest. She was lifted off her feet and thrown backward through the air.

Her spine crashed against a heavy mahogany bookcase.

Pain exploded in her back, radiating down her legs. She let out a choked gasp and slid down the wood, collapsing onto the floor. She curled in on herself, her face contorting in agony.

Carlton didn't even register that she was there. He raised his bloody fist and began pounding it into the wall, the skin on his knuckles splitting open.

Elizbeth watched him, her breathing shallow. He was experiencing a catastrophic neurological pain event. If she didn't stop him, he was going to kill himself.

She ignored the screaming pain in her spine. She bit her lip until it bled, placed her hands flat on the floor, and forced herself to stand on shaking legs.

She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the black leather roll.

Her fingers worked with practiced speed, flicking the leather strap open. A row of long, gleaming silver needles caught the dim light.

Elizbeth took a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes locked onto the back of Carlton's neck, mapping the critical acupoints hidden beneath his skin.

She pulled out the longest needle-the nerve-calming pin. Her eyes hardened with absolute focus.

With desperate determination, Elizbeth lunged across the room toward the out-of-control man.

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