Secretly Cherished: From Forgotten Bride To The Mafia Boss's Queen

"Please take your marriage certificate," the City Hall staff member said, holding out the document.

Thick-framed glasses sat on Ashley Scott's face, while a high turtleneck sweater crept up to conceal much of her jaw.

Her eyes shifted toward her now legal husband, who seemed uninterested in the details of the certificate as she was.

Towering at 6.2 feet, he cut an imposing figure. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and the beard lining his jaw only sharpened his distant and commanding presence.

"We are only getting married to reassure our families," Ashley said after steadying her voice, "but now that we're husband and wife, I think we should at least exchange contact details."

Elijah Fletcher looked down at the woman dressed as if she had stepped out of a library, then pressed a credit card into her hand. "That will not be necessary. If my grandmother had not threatened me with her surgery, this marriage would not exist. Use the card however you want. Do not reach out to me unless you intend to file for divorce."

Those words made Ashley speak up without thinking. "I only meant that having your number would make things simpler when I divorce—"

Her sentence never reached its end. Elijah had already turned away and made his way towards the exit without another glance.

To him, the marriage felt like a formality, and the identity or appearance of the woman beside him held no real importance.

Without lingering, Elijah stepped out of the City Hall and slid into a high-end vehicle waiting nearby.

Once inside, he took off his sunglasses and removed the beard, exposing a small mole near the outer corner of his right eye. His sharply defined features were impossible to ignore. "Drive," he said flatly.

At once, the driver answered, "Yes, Mr. Fletcher." Then he started the car.

That very day, Ashley boarded a flight and left the country.

Fueled by stubborn determination and sustained on no more than four hours of rest each night, she completed a Ph.D. in clinical medicine within two years.

Following her graduation, she joined Doctors Without Borders and spent an entire year in active war zones, where she helped save countless lives.

Three years passed before Ashley finally returned home. When news reached her that rare medicinal herbs had been discovered in a remote mountain forest, she wasted no time. She packed her medical supplies and set out immediately.

While she was carefully scanning the area for the herbs, a rough and strained voice suddenly sounded nearby. "Help me."

Alerted by the cry, Ashley moved toward the source as the smell of blood became increasingly noticeable. Soon enough, an overturned off-road vehicle came into view along the side of the road.

A silhouette caught her attention inside the wreck, and her instinct to save a life took over as she sprinted toward it.

With urgency in her voice, Ashley called out, "Can you hear me? Are you injured?"

Slumped in the driver's seat was a man with sharply defined features. Blood ran down from his forehead, and a small mole near the corner of his right eye stood out against his smooth skin.

Any thought about his appearance vanished at once because the sharp stench of gasoline spread through the air.

Bracing his weight against her body, she dragged the tall man away from the wreck and struggled toward a clearer patch of ground.

They had not even gone thirty feet when a thunderous blast tore through the air as the vehicle detonated.

Fire leapt upward in an instant, and a wave of blistering heat mixed with flying debris rushed straight at them.

A powerful force slammed into Ashley's back, and she lost her balance before crashing into the tall grass, pulling the man down with her. A painful sound escaped Ashley's lips as his full weight pinned her chest and stole the air from her lungs.

With effort and growing panic, Ashley tried to shove him aside while twisting her body to break free.

Despite her struggle, the man did not react or move at all.

Her brows knitted as she prepared to push harder, only for the chill of metal to suddenly graze the side of her neck.

At once, Ashley went completely still.

"Stay right where you are," the man said, pressing close to her ear, and the command carried unmistakable force.

Years of medical training told Ashley how little pressure it would take to end a life at that spot.

The realization struck her hard. Had she nearly died after saving someone who turned on her?

Her tone stripped of warmth, she replied, "Sir, I am the reason you are still breathing right now."

While speaking, Ashley slowly shifted her free hand and let her fingers inch toward the scalpel in her pant pocket.

Right as she steadied her breathing and prepared to strike back, the weight against her neck suddenly disappeared.

She heard something metal fall on the grass as the man's overheated body slumped onto her and went completely limp.

Using all her strength, Ashley wriggled out from beneath him, and her eyes swept over his solid build.

Looking more carefully, she noticed a dark patch soaking into his right thigh, where a bullet wound had been bleeding freely.

A troubling thought crossed Ashley's mind as she studied him. Could the accident have happened because of the injury to his leg?

Her frown deepened when she realized how much blood he had lost, and she knew that without immediate care, amputation was a real possibility.

"You really are fortunate to run into someone like me today," she whispered, and she wasted no time getting started.

After completing a thorough check, she verified that the bullet was lodged near his inner thigh, dangerously close to a major artery, which explained the heavy bleeding.

Handling the injury properly meant that his pants had to come off.

Ashley's gaze shifted to the unconscious man, whose brows remained tightly drawn, and she made her decision without further delay.

From her medical kit, Ashley took out a pair of scissors and sliced through the soaked fabric with care, exposing his black underwear and the obvious outline beneath it.

A low whistle escaped her as she lifted an eyebrow and said, "Well, that is… impressive."

Setting her kit on the ground, she organized her instruments with practiced ease.

Keeping her expression steady, she guided the scalpel with precision, steering clear of vital vessels as she removed the bullet lodged deep inside.

Smooth and controlled, her fingers cleaned the wound, stitched the torn flesh, and secured fresh bandages in place.

Satisfaction flickered across her face as she examined her work, and she muttered, "Perfect."

Next, Ashley reached into her pocket and took out a lollipop, peeling off the wrapper before letting the sweetness settle on her tongue as her eyes drifted back to his face.

Something about his features stirred her thoughts. Why did he seem so familiar, as though she had crossed paths with him before?

That uneasy recognition made her furrow her brows, and she lifted a hand to cover the lower half of his face.

Instead of fading, the strange sense of recognition only intensified.

With her head tilted to one side, she searched her memory with effort, yet no clear answer surfaced.

The strain etched across his face from blood loss caught her attention and sparked a sudden idea.

Gently squeezing his cheeks, Ashley leaned closer and transferred the orange-flavored lollipop from her mouth into his. "You need some sugar in you," she said quietly.

Feeling content that she had done all she could, Ashley picked up her medical kit and prepared to leave the area.

Before she could take another step, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from every direction, and several men dressed in black moved in to block her path.

A mocking laugh came from the leader of the group. "Look at this. The powerful and untouchable Mr. Fletcher was reduced to this state, lying here like a discarded animal and completely at my mercy for once."

With his shoe, he shoved the unconscious man's slack hand aside and shoved a gun firmly against his temple. "It looks like fate has finally decided to favor me today."

As his voice faded, his finger slowly curled around the trigger.