He Gave Me 99 Surgeries for His First Love, the 100th Killed Me Chapter 08

He Gave Me 99 Surgeries for His First Love, the 100th Killed Me Chapter 08

“No… that’s not right…” his voice rose with near-crumbling bewilderment.

“She was always fine before. After every surgery, she was back on her feet in less than a day.”

“Maybe the brain is more complex and hasn’t finished growing yet-yes!” He seized on the idea. “Look-is her

brain regenerating?”

“No,” the doctor hesitated, then handed him the CT scan. “Her cranial cavity is completely empty.”

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances.

“In fact, Ms. Morrison’s body has already begun to decompose… You’ve been in this room the whole time, so you probably didn’t notice.”

He blinked, his gaze slowly moving across each face.

Everyone was unconsciously frowning or covering their noses, like they were trying to block out an unpleasant smell.

His throat bobbed. His voice was hoarse. “You can all leave.”

The room emptied.

He stood there, his face drained white.

He remembered my eyes in that final moment, dead and empty, and the words I’d spoken with such finality. “I

hate you.”

His heart felt like it was being crushed, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

He looked at me on the bed, a bitter ache in his throat.

My skin was already mottled with dark purple patches, and my face looked more swollen than before.

I’d always been vain, always kept myself clean and put-together-I’d never looked so ravaged.

Memories flooded back, sharp and sour.

He remembered that year his startup failed, and I held his hand on that rental apartment bed, saying, “I’ll be with you forever.”

When his capital chain snapped, I went with him from door to door begging for loans-we only ate one meal

a day.

The day his company went public, I raised a glass to toast him, laughter shining in my eyes.

Those memories now stabbed like needles into his chest.

He threw himself to the bedside, his fingers trembling as they touched my cold face.

“Elena, wake up. We said we’d have a wedding. You can’t just leave like this.”

He shook my shoulders, but I would never wake again.

I just lay there, letting his tears fall one by one onto my face.

He held my stiffening body and tasted a pain worse than the day they lost their child.

The words I’d said-“I’d rather die than marry you”-had become a prophecy.

Regret coiled like vines around his heart, tightening, tightening.

He regretted the decision he made four years ago. He regretted not listening when I said, “I will die,” before

that craniotomy.

He regretted being so blind that day that he hadn’t noticed my eyes growing more desperate with every

passing moment.

His phone buzzed-his assistant’s call.

“Mr. Sterling, we’ve finished investigating the details of your kidnapping.”

What came next drained every ounce of strength from him.

It turned out that the person who saved him was me.

The one who was assaulted by the kidnappers was me.

The one he’d wrongfully blamed for years-also me.

And Cecilia had just happened to visit him at the hospital, just happened to be bandaging his wound when he woke up, and he’d mistaken her for his savior.

“The bodyguard who brought you to the hospital requested to resign shortly after, citing dereliction of duty, so no one ever exposed the fact that Cecilia took credit for it.”

“But Ms. Morrison never mentioned it. I couldn’t find a reason why.”

Nathaniel was silent for a long time, then said quietly, “That’s just how she is. Because I never brought it up, she wouldn’t either-she didn’t want to remind me of the child and hurt me.”

The assistant paused, then continued, “I also followed the trail and found out some things about Cecilia that I think you need to know.”

“Her kidney failure was faked-just to get your sponsorship money.”

“Thanks to her compulsive gambler father, she’s secretly a gambling addict herself, drowning in debt.”

“All the money you gave her over the years went straight to betting-not a dime to her studies. Her so-called self-taught anatomy was just her skimming a few pages before each surgery.”

“Also, your kidnapping back then-she sold your location to debt collectors to settle her own debts, and they in turn sold it to your rival.”

The call ended.

He looked at the face on the bed-the face that would never open its eyes again. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

After a long while, he let out a dry laugh.

That smile was uglier than crying.