Chapter 4

Juliet curled up in William's arms, sobbing:

"William, don't blame Lena. She's probably just too jealous of me."

"After all, I'm the one you're going to marry. She's just a transition."

William tenderly wiped away her tears.

"What transition? She's just a housekeeper."

Then he took out his phone and, right in front of me, called my father's attending physician on speakerphone.

"Hello, this is William."

"Stop the ventilator for half an hour."

The doctor's hesitant voice came through: "William, this... the patient can't survive without the ventilator. Half an hour will be fatal."

William looked at me, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Do as I say. If anything happens, I'll take responsibility. Or rather, this is the family's request."

The call ended.

Less than a minute later, the alarm from the monitoring equipment in my father's room echoed down the hallway.

It was a countdown to death.

"No! William, you bastard!"

I broke down crying. Ignoring the severe pain in my abdomen, I knelt on the bed and kowtowed to him.

"Please! Don't hurt my father! I'll sign! I'll sign!"

"I'll give you whatever you want! Please don't stop his medication!"

Dignity? In the face of a loved one's life, dignity was worthless.

William was satisfied with my submission.

He hung up and ordered the oxygen restored.

Then he patted my face from above, like patting an obedient dog.

"Wouldn't this have been easier from the start?"

"Eight o'clock tomorrow morning in the OR. Make sure you're clean."

"I don't like dirty things."

Juliet covered her mouth and laughed: "Lena is so understanding. Thank you for your sacrifice."

They left. Leaving me alone in the darkness, listening to my father's weak heartbeat from the end of the hallway.

In that moment, the Lena in my heart died.

I kept my eyes open all night until dawn.

Like a movie playing in my mind, all the moments from these five years.

To save money to buy him medical textbooks, I bought the cheapest sanitary pads.

When he published his first paper, I was happier than him. I treated everyone in the lab to dinner.

Back then he said: "Lena, when I become a renowned doctor, the first thing I'll do is cure Dad."

Turns out, it was all a lie.

From the beginning, I was the "drawback" after he weighed the pros and cons.

Six o'clock the next morning.

William brought a group of medical interns for rounds.

He was high-spirited, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting cold light, showing no trace of last night's ferocity.

"Everyone, today we'll discuss a special case."

He pointed at me, as if introducing an object.

"Patient Lena, habitual miscarriage due to uterine malformation. She has a strong desire to donate."

"We will perform a highly difficult partial uterine transplant surgery."

"The recipient is a young woman with congenital uterine underdevelopment."

The interns took notes, pens scratching away.

Someone muttered quietly: "This is a living donor transplant. Did it pass ethical review?"

William glanced coolly at that person.

"Family signatures are complete. The patient herself strongly requested to atone... oh no, to contribute."

He deliberately misspoke, causing whispers among those around.

Those gazes fell on me.

Probing, contemptuous, and pitying.

As if I were a soulless medical specimen, a piece of meat awaiting slaughter.

I gripped the bedsheet tightly, my nails breaking into my flesh.

"William, you're lying!"