He Gave Me 99 Surgeries for His First Love, the 100th Killed Me Chapter 04

He Gave Me 99 Surgeries for His First Love, the 100th Killed Me Chapter 04

A new round of torment began.

The drill whined on.

Cecilia’s technique was still clumsy, and after what felt like an eternity of suffering, she finally finished the burr holes and swapped to a bone saw.

The moment my skull was cut open, my nails dug into my palms, and tears poured out beyond my control.

Nathaniel wiped the sweat from my forehead.

“Elena, it’s almost over. Just hold on a little longer. After this, you can ask for whatever compensation you want.”

“A house, a car, jewelry, or anything else—name it.”

I gave a bitter smile.

A casual promise of compensation to cover four years of torture.

Four years ago, Nathaniel’s attitude toward me had turned cold overnight, so abruptly I couldn’t accept it.

I told him he loved me like his own life. He laughed, cold and thin, and said I was delusional—that our engagement was only because I was easy to control.

I said he used to blow-dry my hair, stay up all night by my sickbed, and drive across half the city just because I casually mentioned craving a certain cake.

He shoved a psychologist’s business card into my hand and told me to get help if I was sick.

I actually went.

His attitude really did make me wonder—had our entire love story been an illusion?

And after that first therapy session, the “system” appeared.

The “parallel world” explanation was like a lifeline I desperately grabbed onto.

The goal—”a hundred surgeries”—made me lie down on that operating table again and again, willingly.

I still remembered my first extraction. A kidney.

For Cecilia, who had kidney failure.

She’d been under Nathaniel’s sponsorship for years, and for the first time, she had a healthy body.

She also finally had the chance to pursue her medical dreams.

And I was the perfect practice subject.

I’d had my eyes gouged out, my stomach removed, my gallbladder taken.

Ninety-nine times, the wounds scabbed over, leaving scars that snaked across my entire body.

I used to love wearing dresses. Now I didn’t even dare wear short sleeves.

Until today, I didn’t know.

All four years of suffering—I never had to endure any of it.

I gritted my teeth and asked, “Nathaniel, if I really die this time…”

He touched my face. “Don’t say that. Even if you do die, I’ll go with you.”

I closed my eyes, holding back the pressure building in my bladder, tasting blood from clenching my jaw so hard.

“You’d better… mean that.”

“Is that supposed to be a life for a life?” Cecilia chimed in, despite being supposed to focus on the surgery. “What about me, then?”

“You saved me. That makes you more important than my own life,” Nathaniel’s tone was full of indulgence. “Whatever you ask for, I’ll give it to you.”

“Really?” Her voice lifted, then dropped again. “But you wouldn’t even let me livestream this surgery.”

“I’m doing it for your own good.”

“Livestreaming adds pressure. What if you make a mistake and it crushes your confidence?”

Cecilia wouldn’t let it go. “But my followers have never seen a craniotomy. They all want to watch. And streaming would definitely boost my follower count.”

“Please, Nate—support my social media career, just this once?”

“You’re impossible. But if you mess up, don’t come crying to me.”

He actually pulled out his phone to set up the stream, never once thinking to ask my opinion.

Beneath my desperate attempt at composure, my sphincter was starting to give out.

If I was going to die, I wanted to die with dignity.

Staring at the streaming equipment already in place, I ground my teeth and forced out one sentence between clenched jaws.

“I don’t agree.”