Chapter 4

Clementine only got angrier. "What is your problem? Raymond already explained it. This surgery is good for both of us."

"It's good for him, more like."

I shot Raymond a look.

God only knew what he'd pull once I was on that table.

"Enough."

"Stop snapping at people like some rabid dog. Do you have any idea how many people beg Raymond to read their faces?"

She was still shielding him.

"The South End talks are almost here. This surgery can't wait!"

Raymond kept stoking the fire from the side.

I didn't want to waste another word. I stood and headed for the door, but the second I opened it, four burly bodyguards were waiting outside.

Before I could react.

They grabbed me.

"Clementine!"

"Let go of me! I'm not doing the surgery!"

I whipped my head around, furious.

"One day you'll thank me for this."

Clementine lifted a hand.

Then a sharp pain hit the back of my skull, and everything went dark.

When I came to, I was already lying in the operating room.

My hands and feet were strapped down.

There was no working free.

Then the door opened, and it wasn't a doctor who walked in. It was Raymond.

"Tim."

"Wouldn't it be fun if you died right here on the table?"

"And even more fun if Clementine didn't find out you were dead until seven days later?"

A dangerous smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"You're not afraid Clementine will find out?" I demanded.

"So what if she does?"

Raymond gave a scornful little hiss. "I'm the man she loves most. No matter what happens, she'll always take my side."

"Besides, surgery like this, you have to sign a risk waiver first."

The words had barely left his mouth.

Clementine's voice drifted in from outside, talking with the doctor.

"Ms. Pruitt."

"This is a full-face procedure, and one part of it carries a higher risk. I'll need you to sign the waiver."

"You mean there's actually a risk to his life?"

Clementine sounded a little surprised.

I opened my mouth to speak.

Raymond snatched up a wad of gauze, jammed it into my mouth, then slapped himself hard across the face before walking out of the operating room.

"What happened to your face? Who hit you?"

Clementine stared at the clear print of five fingers on Raymond's right cheek and asked, all concern.

"I was trying to talk some sense into Tim, and he suddenly went off and hit me. He even cursed me to a miserable death."

Raymond lied through his teeth.

"That Tim really is beyond saving!"

Clementine knit her brows, thoroughly annoyed. "Whatever the risk, he's getting this surgery! Or sooner or later he'll be the death of us!"

She signed her name, then took Raymond by the arm and left.

My heart went cold as ash.

Ten years of everything I gave.

At the very least I was the person who'd saved Clementine, and yet, for someone else's sake, she'd put me under a high-risk surgery that could kill me.

Twenty minutes later, the surgery began.

The doctor was raising the needle to sedate me when Grant burst in with his men.

"Everybody, out!"

"Lay one finger on Mr. Farley and I'll twist your heads off."

That was how I was saved.

Just as Raymond had said, for the next seven days Clementine put me completely out of her mind.

She never once asked how I was.

She was too busy, thrilled with the idea that once I had the surgery, the Pruitt family's luck would surge and the project would sail through.

Climbing to an even greater peak.

The day of the South End project talks.

Clementine, brimming with confidence, met with Grant and handed over the drafted agreement.

"Mr. Dickerson, take a look. If everything's in order, please sign."

But Grant didn't reach for it at all.

"The deal's off."

"Why?"

"Because a very important person objects."