Chapter 3
Claire leaned against the operating table, tilting her head with deceptive innocence. “It’s a shame I’ve never performed that procedure before…“]
Ryan, adjusting the sutures, didn’t even look up. “Without further treatment, no one would want her looking like this anyway.”
“We’ve already done the reconstruction for free. Her uterus can cover the treatment costs.”
I thrashed violently against my restraints, the straps cutting into my flesh as I produced guttural, desperate sounds from my throat.
My baby was in there–just one month old.
Ryan had once knelt on the cold stone steps of the cathedral, praying for hours until his knees were bruised and raw.
I’d tried to pull him away, tears streaming down my face, but he’d only whispered: “Lina, I can’t bear watching you suffer.“]
For three full years, he’d endured experimental fertility treatments, donated thousands to medical research foundations, all in hopes of having just one child.
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And now, his scalpel was aimed at the baby we’d dreamed of for so
Claire held down my legs, leaning close to whisper in my ear. “Lina, Ryan agreed to this. Don’t blame me.“]]
Ryan stood beside Claire, methodically handing her surgical instruments, his eyes reflecting indulgent tolerance.
“Ryan, I–I’m not very practiced at this…” Claire bit her lip as she made several jagged incisions across my abdomen, immediately drawing blood.]
Pain convulsed through my body. I writhed frantically, the restraints biting deeper as I desperately tried to catch Ryan’s attention.
Look at me! Please, really look at me!]]
Claire threw down the scalpel in frustration. “She’s thrashing so much I can’t even cut properly!”
Ryan frowned and moved to hold down my struggling shoulders. When his fingertips brushed the small light–brown birthmark below my collarbone, he paused momentarily.
It was the spot he loved to kiss, calling it his “little star.”
But he quickly averted his gaze, reaching for a syringe of anesthetic.]]
Claire hastily intercepted his hand. “Anesthesia would be too dangerous in her condition,” she insisted, malice flashing in her eyes. “Besides, if she could endure having her face destroyed, removing a uterus is nothing.” My muffled cries were trapped by the gauze in my throat, producing only broken, muted sounds.
Ryan turned away irritably, but something in my pleading eyes made him hesitate. He forced himself to refocus on the procedure.
Then suddenly, he froze.
There on my side was a rose tattoo.
Memories flooded back
Years ago, a hot water bottle had exploded while he was cooking. I’d instinctively jumped in front of him. The scalding water left an ugly scar on my waist. Devastated by my injury, he’d later personally tattooed a rose over the scar
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Lina…” he whispered automatically, then shook his head in confusion. But thoughts of me softened his resolve.
“A merus is important to a worgan,” he said slowly. “There’s a difference between being unable to have children and choosing not to.”
Claire’s eyes went cold before she quickly softened her voice. “Ryan, women like her would do anything for beauty. Getting a rose tattoo is nothing special.”
She deliberately scraped the scalpel across the rose, adding new cuts. “It’s probably just covering liposuction scars. Besides, it doesn’t even look like the one you described.
Ryan stared at the blood–soaked rose, his heart inexplicably aching
Claire, noticing his hesitation, quickly adopted a concerned expression. “I know you’re kind–hearted, but this volunteer was truly desperate. If I hadn’t brought her here, she might have died in some back–alley clinic. 1 After a momem of silence, Ryan picked up the scalpel again.]
Claire had always been gentle and land, and she respected Lina. She couldn’t possibly hurt Lina, could she?]
