Chapter 5
In the end, the team of specialists still performed the surgery on me.
Just as expected–even the world’s top experts couldn’t restore my ruined limbs.
From now on, I wouldn’t be able to lift anything heavier than two pounds. No more running. No more dancing.
When the anesthesia wore off, I endured the agony of my wounds being sliced open again.
Isabella arrived at my hospital room, surrounded by doctors and specialists. “Emily, I know you hate me,” she said, her misty eyes glistening with unshed tears, that delicate fragility of hers on full display. “But resorting to such extreme methods just to harm me will only provoke Mr. Hawthorne’s wrath. Was it really worth it?”
This was the act that had ensnared every man in her life–Richard, Benjamin, even the man I loved.
I still remembered when she first came to the Sinclair family. Her hands had been rough and calloused, a girl who had slept on the streets and scavenged for scraps with her gold–digging mother.
Ten years in the Sinclair family had polished her into a pampered young miss, her skin now smooth as porcelain, every inch the refined heiress.
“This time, out of respect for Mr. Hawthorne, I allowed the specialists to save you,” she continued. “But next month, at my birthday party, you will apologize to me publicly. That was the condition for your treatment. I hope you won’t go back on your word.”
་ ར ་
lifted my gaze coldly. “Who agreed to that for me?”
Nathaniel stepped forward. “I did.”
His voice was flat, his eyes indifferent, as if I were the one causing trouble.
I let out a sharp laugh. “Get out. All of you.”
This man I had loved for three years–I didn’t want him anymore.
Isabella’s tears finally spilled over. “Emily, I’m only thinking of your well–being! If you refuse to humble yourself, do you really want Mr. Hawthorne to come after you himself?”
She sobbed harder at the sight of my injuries, her performance so convincing it could have won awards.
Nathaniel’s brow furrowed. Gently stroking her back, he murmured, “Isabella, go rest. I promise she’ll be there to apologize on your birthday.”
Satisfied, Isabella lowered her head to wipe her tears–but not before I caught the triumphant smirk curling her lips.
When she looked up again, her eyes were clear and trusting. “I believe you, Nathaniel.”
That look alone must have melted Nathaniel’s heart.
I watched as he stared after her until she was completely out of sight before finally turning back
“So if I refuse to go,” I said, smiling thinly, “are you planning to drag me there by force?”
to me.
Nathaniel’s expression darkened. “Isabella could have refused to let those specialists operate on you.”
The unspoken accusation hung in the air–You’re ungrateful.
“I told you—I was ready to die. I never asked to be saved. Not by you, not by anyone.”
Something flickered in Nathaniel’s eyes. His hand trembled slightly before he clenched it into a fist, his face turning to ice.
But he said nothing else.
In silence, he walked out.
