I’m Not Emily: Your Ass Is Toast!

When I opened my eyes on the operating table at Boston General, I'd somehow been sucked into that trashy novel—becoming Emily, the doormat everyone walked all over!
My snake of a husband Michael was shoving divorce papers in my face, demanding I "step aside." His mistress Sarah hung on his arm with that smug smile, while my monster-in-law joined their chorus, trying to steal my son Noah away.
But the most vile part? The "insulin" they were injecting into Noah wasn't insulin at all—it was an unapproved experimental drug that could kill him!
I'm a goddamn cardiac surgeon who's saved countless lives. No way in hell am I letting these parasites harm my child. I tore up those divorce papers and removed that poison needle.
Anyone who dares hurt Noah? I'll make damn sure they rot in prison for the rest of their miserable lives.