Chapter 2
560words
"Just answer me one thing honestly, Spencer. Why could you operate on her but never on me?"
"You claimed to hate artificial beauty, yet you're obsessed with the face you created for her!"
What woman doesn't want to be beautiful? We all want those little enhancements when we can afford them.
Spencer's a damn plastic surgeon—I've seen the miracles he works. Of course I wanted that for myself.
But he always shut me down, claiming my features were "too distinctive" and surgery would make me look "generic."
I believed him then. But watching him worship Charlotte's artificial perfection made my chest tighten with betrayal.
"Is it because I look like she used to? Am I just her before picture walking around?"
"I'm her replacement, aren't I? That's why you've fought so hard to keep my face exactly as it is."
Spencer's eyes darted away, his silence more damning than any confession.
My heart plummeted as the truth of our once-envied marriage crashed down around me.
Seeing me turn to leave, Spencer's eyes flashed with panic as he clutched my sleeve.
"Babe, please, just hear me out. It's not what you're thinking."
"She's just a perfect canvas to me! Look, I didn't want to hurt your feelings, but your features just aren't as good as hers. The results wouldn't be worth it."
A harsh laugh escaped my throat.
"Right. She has 'good features' and a killer body too, doesn't she?"
"You also raved about her bedroom skills—how she's so much better than the 'dead fish' you're married to. That's why she's perfect, isn't it?"
The color drained from Spencer's face as his grip tightened on my sleeve.
They had exchanged countless messages. He was probably wondering how I'd found that particular one.
Truth is, I'd only searched a few choice words before finding their explicit exchanges.
I yanked my arm, but Spencer held fast.
A video call ringtone suddenly shattered the tense silence of the hallway.
That phone had just one contact—Charlotte Lane.
Spencer dropped my arm and stepped away to answer.
On screen, Charlotte wore a skimpy nurse costume with a sheer veil.
Despite the lowered volume, her exaggerated moans were perfectly audible.
"Spencer, I'm waiting for you to lift my veil. When are you coming to inspect your handiwork?"
"And while you're at it, you can check how well I've learned those new positions you taught me!"
Spencer's Adam's apple bobbed nervously before he answered:
"Five minutes. I'll be right there!"
My heart twisted painfully. Five minutes meant she lived practically next door.
No one lives that close to a hospital unless they have a damn good reason—like screwing the chief surgeon.
After ending the call, Spencer rushed back to me, his words tumbling out:
"Honey, Charlotte's having complications with her sutures. As her surgeon, I have to provide proper aftercare."
"Go home, and I'll be back after I check on her!"
Without waiting for my response, he bolted down the hallway and disappeared into the private elevator.
I stood there sobbing until my lungs burned and my knees weakened.
Hearing approaching footsteps, I stumbled toward the stairs, desperate to hide my breakdown.
But my vision blurred from tears, and my foot missed the first step. I tumbled down the staircase.
Someone screamed behind me as darkness swallowed me whole.
