Page 31 of Secret Baby for the Billionaire Doctor

"Don't lie to me, Dante," he snaps, stepping even closer to me. "I've seen the way you look at her, the way you talk to her. Do you have any idea what this could do to our family's reputation? You are not meant to flirt with a colleague, especially junior doctors or residents in training. The rules are clear."

I shake my head, my mind racing as I try to think of a way to diffuse the situation. "Dylan, please, just calm down. We can talk about this-"

But before I can finish, he lunges forward, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. I'm shocked by the sudden violence, my heart pounding in my chest. I struggle to break free, but he's too strong, his grip is like iron.

The door opens, and Dr. Peters peeks inside, his face a mask of concern. "Is everything okay in here?" he asks worriedly.

Dylan releases me, his expression softening slightly. "Yes, everything's fine," he says, a little more subdued.

Dr. Peters nods, closing the door behind him. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. My mind races with a million thoughts and questions.

How could he have found out?

What would our family think?

Dylan turns to me, his eyes softening slightly. "We need to go home, Dante. We need to talk about this."

I nod, knowing that there's no avoiding this conversation. I close my laptop, packing up my things as quickly as possible. Dylan leads the way out of the office, his steps quick and purposeful. We make our way down the hall, passing by the other doctors and nurses, their eyes flicking to us with curiosity and concern.

As we step outside into the bright sunlight, Dylan turns to me, his face a mask of worry. "What were you thinking, Dante? You know that kind of behavior is unacceptable."

I sigh, feeling the weight of his disappointment and anger bearing down on me. "I know, Dylan, I know. I don't know what I was thinking. It happened out of mistake when we first met and I never knew she worked at the hospital too, but when I saw her again, I just couldn't help myself."

He shakes his head, his eyes filled with sadness. "You need to end things with her, Dante. It's the only way to protect our family's reputation."

I feel a pang of guilt and regret, knowing that he's right. However, I am willing to defend and stand by Ally, even though my family will want to disinherit me.

We get into my car and drive in silence till we get to my house. I follow Dylan inside, my heart heavy with the weight of his disappointment and anger. We make our way into the living room, the tension between us palpable. I brace myself for what's to come, knowing that this conversation will not be an easy one.

Dylan turns to face me, his eyes cold and hard. "Sit down, Dante," he says, gesturing to the couch. "We need to talk this out."

I nod, taking a seat opposite him, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. We sit in silence for a few moments, the air between us heavy and charged.

And then, without warning, Dylan lunges at me, throwing the first punch.

I dodge out of the way, my instincts kicking in as I try to defend myself. We trade blows, our fists connecting with sickening thuds as we fight for dominance. I'm not proud of the fact that I know how to fight. It's a skill I learned as a kid, growing up in a rough neighborhood where violence was an everyday occurrence. But it's a skill that's saved my life more times than I can count, and right now, as I fend off my brother's vicious attacks, I'm grateful for it.

I use all the tricks and techniques I know, dodging and weaving, striking when I can, trying to keep him off balance. But he's a formidable opponent, his fists flying fast and hard, and I can feel my energy waning with each passing moment. And then, in a moment of desperation, I reach out and grab him in a neck hold, my arm wrapped tightly around his throat. He struggles against me, his breath coming in short gasps, but I hold on, using all my strength to keep him steady.

Slowly, his attacks start to falter, his strength ebbing away. I hold on, my heart pounding in my chest, until finally, he stops struggling, his body going limp in my arms. I release him, my hands shaking with adrenaline and fear. We sit there for a moment on the cushion, catching our breath, staring at each other in stunned silence. And then, slowly, we start to pick up the pieces, surveying the damage we've done to the room. The glass table is shattered, wine bottles littering the floor, and the air is thick with the scent of alcohol.

Dylan looks at me, his eyes softening slightly. "I'm sorry, Dante," he says, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean for it to come to this."

I nod, my own voice heavy with emotion. "I know, Dylan. I know. We need to find a way to fix this."

And so, we set to work, cleaning up the mess we've made, piecing together the broken parts of our relationship. It won't be easy, and there will be many more fights and arguments along the way. But I know that in the end, we'll come out stronger, more united than ever before.

We head out of the house together and get into my car then I drive off.

As we drive to the hospital, the tension between us slowly starts to dissipate. Dylan looks at me, his eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry for interrupting you at work," he says. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

I nod, accepting his apology. "It's okay, Dylan. I understand why you were upset."

We arrive at the hospital, and I watch as Dylan drives off in his own car. I make my way to my office, my mind still reeling from the events of the day.

But I'm not alone for long. Ally walks in, concern etched on her face as she sees a little swelling at the corner of my lips. "Dante, are you okay?" she asks.

I nod, grateful for her presence. I tell her everything that's happened, from Dylan storming into my office to the fight we had to the moment when we made amends. She listens patiently, her eyes filled with empathy.

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