My Surgeon Husband Rebuilt My Face To Match His First Love’s Chapter 09
The Face That Was Mine
The man clearly does not expect me to throw myself at the knife.
His hand jerks to the side. The blade misses my throat and slices across my cheek instead.
Pain tears through the left side of my face, hot and sharp, and blood spills down my skin almost instantly.
But I do not stop.
While he is stunned, I twist my wrists hard and pull against the rope. The last thin strand finally snaps under the piece of broken metal I have been grinding against it this whole time.
All that time they were talking, I was working.
I was not waiting to die.
I kick the knife out of his hand before he can recover. It skids across the concrete floor and disappears under a pile of rusted metal.
The man lunges at me, but I move faster.
The self-defense training I once thought I would never need comes back to me in pieces. Grip the wrist. Turn the body. Use his weight against him.
A second later, he hits the floor hard.
I press my knee into his back and twist his arm behind him until he screams.
“Why are you just standing there?” I snap.
Graham and Violet are frozen a few feet away.
Graham seems to wake up first. He takes one step toward me, but Violet grabs his sleeve at once.
“Graham, I’m scared,” she cries.
For a second, I almost laugh.
Even now, she still knows how to cling to him and look helpless. Even now, he still pauses for her.
Of course he does.
After he comforts her, Graham finally comes over and helps me tie the man up.
Not long after, the police arrive and take him away.
Violet and I are sent to the hospital.
In the hallway, Graham stands in front of me, his eyes fixed on the left side of my face.
“Elena…”
I lift my hand and touch the bandage there.
The cut is long. The doctor says it may leave a scar.
Strangely, I do not feel much.
Maybe this is fate.
After all, this face was never really mine.
Graham swallows hard, like he still wants to say something, but I look up before he can start.
“Graham,” I say, “I want a divorce.”
He falls silent for a very long time.
His shoulders slowly curve inward. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough.
“Is there really no chance for us anymore?”
“No,” I say. “Let each other go. You already have Violet. Why keep holding on to me?”
His face twists with pain.
I look at him calmly.
“I saw a doctor,” I say. “I ended the pregnancy while it was still early.”
The last color drains from Graham’s face.
For a moment, he only stares at me, as if he has finally lost the last thing he thought might keep me beside him.
“I’m sorry, Elena,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
…
The day we finalize the divorce, the weather is almost too nice.
Violet is waiting outside.
She smiles the moment she sees us and slips her arm through Graham’s like she has finally won something worth showing off.
Her eyes are full of triumph, but her voice stays soft and sweet.
“Ms. Rowe,” she says, “I’m glad you two can part on good terms. I hope you have a happy life.”
Graham looks at me with unreadable eyes.
I smile back.
“You too.”
Then I get into my car.
Through the rearview mirror, I watch the two of them grow smaller and smaller until they are nothing but two dark figures behind me.
Outside the courthouse, Violet clings to Graham’s arm and talks about rings, about their future, about everything she thinks she has finally taken from me.
Then Graham’s phone rings.
By the time he answers it, everything has already started.
I use the evidence from his computer and press charges.
The old crash investigation is reopened.
What happened to me five years ago is dragged back into the light, piece by piece.
The arranged crash. The illegal procedures. The records he kept like trophies.
Every crime Graham thought he had buried comes out.
What waits for him now is prison.
Before he is taken away, he tries again and again to see me.
I refuse every request.
There is nothing left to say to him.
As for Violet, her dream of finally ending up with Graham shatters before it can even begin. The shock hits her fragile body hard.
During one of her episodes, she crashes her car into a tree.
She is still unconscious.
The doctors say she may never wake up.
I hear all of this while I am on my way out of the country.
By then, I have already contacted a doctor overseas. The scar can be treated.
More than that, there is a chance to restore the face I was born with, the face Graham stole from me.
Outside the window, the plane lifts into the sky.
The city I lived in for so many years grows smaller beneath me. So do all those ugly memories.
From now on, I am going to live well.
For myself. I was always meant to be.