Chapter 2

The next morning, a surgeon, Dr. Emily White, came to review my chart. She had kind eyes and a gentle touch.

"Your leg has multiple fractures, Sarah," she explained, pointing to an x-ray. "And there' s some internal bleeding we need to address. The surgery is straightforward, and you should make a full recovery."

A full recovery. The words sounded like a cruel joke. How could I ever be whole again?

Just then, David walked in, carrying a cup of coffee. He smiled at Dr. White, his familiar, charming smile that won over investors and journalists.

"Doctor, thank you for taking such good care of my wife."

He waited for her to leave, then sat by my bed and took my hand. His felt warm, but I felt nothing but ice. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

"Dr. White," he called out, his voice stopping her at the door. She turned.

"I have a concern," David said, his tone shifting to one of grave seriousness. "Given the trauma to her abdomen, and the... emotional toll of this tragedy... I don' t think it would be wise for Sarah to endure another pregnancy."

Dr. White looked confused. "Mr. Chen, her reproductive organs weren' t seriously damaged. With time, there' s no medical reason she couldn' t conceive again."

"It' s not a medical concern, Doctor. It' s a psychological one," David said smoothly. "The risk, the potential for another loss... it would destroy her. I can' t put her through that. During the surgery to repair the internal damage, I want you to perform a hysterectomy. To protect her."

A thick silence filled the room. I could feel Dr. White' s disbelief.

"Mr. Chen... that' s a permanent, irreversible procedure," she said, her professional tone barely hiding her shock. "I can' t do that without your wife' s explicit, conscious consent. It' s highly unethical."

"She is my wife," David' s voice dropped, losing its charming edge and taking on a steely command. "And she is not in a state to make rational decisions. I am her husband, I am making the decision for her. Consider it a preventative measure to save her from future pain."

He continued, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "She loved Ethan so much. Too much. She was obsessed. It wasn't healthy. Another child would just be a replacement, a constant, painful reminder. It' s kinder this way. To free her from that burden."

The air in my lungs turned to poison. He was talking about our son, our beautiful boy, as if he were a disease. A burden. My love for my child, a sickness.

I lay perfectly still, forcing my breathing to remain even. David thought I was unconscious, a broken doll he could manipulate. He walked out into the hall, pulling out his phone. I strained to hear, my heart pounding against my ribs.

His voice was a low murmur, but I caught the words clearly.

"The payment went through. You did your job."

A pause.

"I don' t care how you do it, just get rid of the car and disappear. The 'accident' was clean. No one can trace it back to me."

The world tilted. It wasn' t an accident. It was a hit. He hadn' t just allowed our son to die; he had paid for it. He had murdered Ethan. And now, he was going to strip away my ability to ever be a mother again, to erase any future that didn't revolve around him and his desires.

The grief that had shattered me was now forged into something else. Something hard and cold and razor-sharp. He wanted to break me. He had no idea what he had just created instead.