Chapter 2

My heart skipped a beat.

After years of working as a surgeon, my instincts took over. I couldn't ignore a patient in critical condition.

I drove through a torrential downpour to the hospital.

The first thing I saw when I stepped into the room was Stella sitting by his bed.

She clutched Julian’s hand, sobbing hysterically.

"It’s all my fault... Julian, I'm so sorry..."

Julian forced a weak smile and gently stroked her hair.

"Don't say that. I did it willingly."

Every syllable pierced through my ears like shards of ice.

I stood frozen.

Right. Julian already had someone else by his side.

He didn't need me anymore.

I took a deep breath, composed my features, and walked into the room.

"How did this happen?"

I asked routinely, fighting to keep my voice flat.

Julian smirked, a sick sense of triumph flashing in his eyes.

"I jumped from the fifth floor."

His calm delivery made my stomach churn with suspicion.

"You did that on purpose?"

For a split second, I prayed I was just being paranoid.

Julian nodded.

"Stella isn't safe living alone. I'm moving her into our house."

"I shattered my own legs to pay the price. You have no reason to say no now, do you?"

I stood there, dumbfounded.

I stared at the two of them, my mind completely blank.

Julian’s twisted logic echoed in my head.

In his mind, as long as he endured self-inflicted punishment, he could do whatever he wanted.

Today, it was moving Stella into our house. What would it be tomorrow?

I didn't want to know.

In the end, only one word slipped past my lips:

"Fine."

The surgery took five long hours. Looking at the mangled bones he deliberately broke, my heart bled.

When I finally stepped out of the OR, I was utterly exhausted.

I walked out to the hallway for some air.

Smack!

A vicious slap landed squarely across my face.

"What else do you want from him? Do you need all of us dead before you're finally satisfied?"

"Julian’s legs were healthy! You ruined him!"

The blow was so hard my ears rang violently.

I stared in sheer disbelief at the person standing before me.

It was my mother—the woman who had been bedridden and paralyzed for three years.

When she suddenly collapsed years ago, I had spent years waiting on her hand and foot, pouring every penny of my savings into her medical bills.

Yet here she was, standing tall and furious on her own two feet.

"Mom... you lied to me?"

A suffocating bitterness rose in my throat.

I couldn't fathom why even my own mother would deceive me like this.

Tears spilled down my face.

My mother didn't show an ounce of guilt.

"If you hadn't constantly acted like a raving lunatic tormenting Julian and Stella, would I have needed to fake being sick to keep your hands full?!"

"Elena, I thought you had changed! I never imagined you'd push Julian to break his own legs! How can your heart be so vicious?!"

She screamed at me with raw venom.

She raised her hand to slap me again.

As if everything truly were my fault.

Before her hand could strike, Stella rushed forward and threw her arms around my mother.

"Please, don't blame her!"

"It's all my fault... I'm carrying Julian's baby. If Elena doesn't want me around, I... I can just leave..."

The moment those words were uttered, my mother's face softened into a look of overwhelming tenderness.

A tenderness she had never once shown me.

"This has nothing to do with you, sweet girl. She can't have children, so she's jealous of you."

"Stella, you focus on resting. As long as I'm breathing, this baby will be born safe and sound."

The two of them walked away arm in arm.

Watching their retreating figures, my vision blurred with tears.

My mother hated me.

When I was born, my father died in a freak accident, and she blamed me for bringing a curse upon our family.

When Julian came into our lives, she treated him like the son she never had, calling him the pillar of our household.

Later, when I suffered a tragic miscarriage, she looked on with icy detachment. She called me an omen of bad luck, a monster born to destroy lives.

First I killed my father, then I killed my child.

For so many years, I fought with everything I had to grasp at their conditional, fleeting love.

In the end, both love and family slipped through my fingers like sand.

I had no one standing behind me.

A self-deprecating smile touched my lips.

With the bright red handprint still stinging on my cheek, I knocked on the Chief of Medicine’s door.

"I'm submitting my resignation."