My Rescue Was Their Reunion, My Hell Was Their Project Chapter 10

My Rescue Was Their Reunion, My Hell Was Their Project Chapter 10

Three days later, Arthur paid the men a million dollars each and let them keep going with Chloe. He let it go on until there was nothing left in her to ruin. 

When she was barely breathing, he called an ambulance. 

In Arthur’s private medical wing, his lead surgeon was preparing a transfusion when Arthur handed over a file. 

Elena’s experimental records. Transferred from Ravens Hollow. Every drug injected, every milliliter of blood drawn, every incision opened and stitched shut–documented in 

clinical detail. 

“Follow the sequence. Recreate all of it on her body.” 

His voice was level. Like a man reading instructions from a 

page. 

“Thirty liters of blood. Seventeen rounds of invasive 

experimental surgeries. Forty–six experimental compounds. Stretch it over three years.” He paused. “Don’t let her die too 

fast.” 

Julian stood at the door and watched them wheel Chloe into the operating room. His face gave away nothing. 

The screaming started before the door even finished closing. 

They followed Elena’s records to the letter. Every procedure, every dosage, every cut. Arthur watched through the 

observation glass. He didn’t look away. 

Julian and Nolan stood behind him. Nobody spoke. Nobody 

left. 

They were going to watch Chloe endure every single thing 

Elena had endured. 

When the blood loss reached ten liters, Chloe broke. She rolled off the table, dragged herself to the glass on her hands and knees, and screamed with whatever strength she had left. 

“Kill me… Arthur, please, just kill me…” 

Arthur looked at her ruined face on the other side of the glass. 

“Elena begged them the same way.” 

His voice didn’t waver. 

“Did they stop?” 

The light left Chloe’s eyes. 

She remembered. Three years ago – the first time she’d opened Elena’s real medical report and seen the numbers for 

herself. She’d known then. She’d known Elena was dying. 

She didn’t stop. She’d added a wire transfer with a note in the 

memo line. 

Increase the dosage. Don’t let her come back alive. 

She’d expected Elena to die quietly in some cell, on some night nobody remembered. 

Instead, Elena dragged herself home on her last breath and stepped off the eighteenth floor on Chloe’s wedding day. She turned her own death into something none of them could ever 

escape. 

As they pulled Chloe back onto the table, she started to laugh – tears and blood mixing down her face. She finally 

understood. 

Elena hadn’t lost. She’d died on her own terms, at the moment 

she chose, in a way that would haunt three men for the rest of 

their lives. 

Chloe was the one who’d lost. For her, being alive was the punishment.