When He Forgave, She Was Gone

Chapter 4

Scarlett was dragged into the operating room.

As her consciousness wavered on the edge of blackout, bony fingers dug into her chin, forcing her to meet the poisonous glare looming over her.

"We'll take the skin from her face and throw it to the dogs."

The icy voice jolted through Scarlett's fading awareness, dragging her back from oblivion. Grace's arm had barely suffered a scratch, nothing like the life-threatening injury the doctors had claimed.

She dug her nails into her thigh, fighting to stay conscious. "Grace." Her voice came out choked, barely a whisper. "I'm not a threat to you anymore. Why won't you just let me go?"

Grace's lips curved into a viper's smile. "Let you go? And let you ruin everything? Not a chance in hell."

She leaned closer, her breath hot against Scarlett's ear. "It's that face of yours, Scarlett. This is what happens when you ignore warnings and keep sneaking around Maxwell."

She straightened up and addressed the medical team. "Begin the operation. No painkillers."

With that order, Grace pulled out her phone and started recording.

Pinned down like an animal headed for s*******r, Scarlett couldn't move, couldn't fight back. The scalpel bit into her skin. Fire ripped through her face, pain so sharp it felt like her bones were splintering. Her body convulsed, every nerve screaming as she teetered on the edge of consciousness.

The slow, torturous carving only ended when darkness finally claimed her.

When she woke, she lay in a hospital bed, her face wrapped in bandages, numb and lifeless. The sharp stench of disinfectant filled her nose. Machines beeped in a steady rhythm beside her, mingling with hushed whispers from the hallway.

"People have lost their minds these days." A nurse's voice drifted through the partially open door. "First she fakes an acid attack, and now this. Skin carved off without painkillers. How far is Grace Carter willing to push this before it all blows up in her face?"

"Please. Maxwell Owen is her safety net." Another voice, lower, conspiratorial. "But get this. I heard something even wilder."

"What do you mean?"

"Turns out, the Anderson woman is the real fiancée. When Owen had that car accident, Carter brought in some crooked doctor to mess with his memories right there in the OR. He's still taking special pills from that same fraud. Why else would he mistake his own fiancée for an enemy?"

"No wonder. She's been here three days and hasn't had a single visitor. Meanwhile, Carter's VIP suite is piled high with flowers and gifts, spilling out into the hallway. And Owen hasn't left her side. He dotes on her like she's made of glass." A pause, then a sigh. "Talk about a cruel twist of fate."

Footsteps faded into silence.

Their words echoed in Scarlett's skull, sharp and undeniable. Maxwell had forgotten her because of Grace's scheming. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

With a sharp tug, she yanked out her IV and swung her legs off the bed. The room tilted, but she forced herself upright, staggering toward the door. She had to face him. Now.

At the entrance to the VIP suite on the south wing, she spotted Maxwell through the glass panel. Before she could push the door open, Grace's pointed question cut through the air.

"Max, if you ever found out that you and Ms. Anderson actually shared a real past together, would you regret choosing me?"

Maxwell set down the fruit plate immediately. With a doting smile, he gave Grace's nose a playful tweak and took her hand.

"Never." His voice was firm, certain. "She's just a housekeeper's daughter. It doesn't matter what kind of history we might have had. It means nothing. She could never compare to you, sweetheart. You're the only bride I'll ever want. I'll take over the wedding planning myself from now on."

"You're perfect." Grace's voice dropped to a purr as she pulled him into a hungry kiss.

Within seconds, he was losing himself in her, their bodies tangled together on the plush hospital sofa.

Every word, every touch carved into Scarlett's heart like a dull blade.

She'd planned to storm in, shake some sense into Maxwell, expose everything Grace had done. But now? What was the point?

They were like oil and water—never meant to mix.

She and Maxwell had been doomed from the very start.