Chapter 3

“Julian, what does any of this matter? Even if there are mountains of knives and seas of fire, I’m still leaving,” I said with absolute resolve.

“Fine.” Julian’s eyes held a dark shadow.

I hadn’t walked two steps before a sharp pain flared in my neck, and I lost consciousness.

Julian had me locked away.

Someone delivered my meals every day. I didn’t understand what Julian was playing at.

Two weeks into my confinement, I was taken to the hospital.

I was strapped to a gurney and brought into an operating room. A second before the anesthesia took effect, I heard the doctor sigh, “Uterine cancer, needs a hysterectomy. Poor thing.”

My uterus was removed.

Julian sat by my hospital bed, holding a bowl of soup Maria had made, ready to feed me.

I turned my head away.

“Iris, you just had surgery. Don’t play around with your health,” Julian’s chilling voice rang out.

Surgery? If it weren’t for you and Serena, I wouldn’t have needed this surgery.

Serena’s pregnancy wasn’t going well. She’d heard about some supposedly powerful fortuneteller from somewhere and dragged Julian to see him.

The fortuneteller told them that my future child would bring her bad luck, and if I had any chance of getting pregnant, not only would Serena’s baby not survive, but it would also harm the mother.

Then, they gave Julian the birth details of this “woman,” which matched mine exactly.

So, they fabricated a “uterine cancer” diagnosis for me.

“Iris, after you’re discharged, you’ll still be Mrs. Thorne. Serena’s child will call you Mommy,” Julian said, as if to himself.

As if that could somehow erase the harm they had inflicted upon me.

“Iris, I’ll compensate you.”

As he said this, Julian’s phone rang. It was Serena calling him.

“Julian, I hurt my hand! Hurry and come here!” her anxious voice came through the receiver.

I grabbed Julian’s hand and said, “The only compensation I want is for you to refuse Serena.”

Serena kept urging him over the phone.

Julian pried my hand open. He said, word for word, “Don’t be ungrateful. Know your place. What do you have that can compare to Serena?” Then he turned and left without a backward glance.

The empty hospital room was left with just me.

Compared to Serena’s injured hand – a matter Julian treated as monumental – my uterus being removed seemed utterly trivial.

I, Iris, was completely insignificant to Julian.

Serena posted sweet photos of herself and Julian on Ins.

The caption read: "I jokingly said my hand was hurt, and someone rushed right over to see me. I’m so happy!"

I coldly 'liked' her post, then shared it with the comment, “Wishing you both happiness.”

After a period of observation in the hospital, I was again confined to Julian’s villa.

Why do I say confined? Because on the day I was discharged, Julian sent two burly bodyguards.

Seeing the strong men, whose wrists were as thick as my calves, I had no choice but to push down my thoughts and temporarily return home.