Chapter 2

I hid around a corner in the hospital corridor as a nurse approached, her eyes darting uncertainly.

"Mrs. Brooks, are you okay?" she asked softly.

I could sense something unusual in her concern.

I grabbed her arm, saying, "Tell me. Do you know something?"

She stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."

"What did Steven do to me?" I asked, my voice shaking with anxiety.

"Sorry, I... I need to check on the patient," she stammered, snatching her hand back before hurrying away.

A small piece of paper slipped from her pocket.

I picked it up. It read: [Conference Room 304, three o'clock in the afternoon.]

I clenched the note. Conference Room 304 was in the quietest corner of the hospital.

I stood outside the door, hesitating, when Steven's voice drifted out through the window.

"Today, we'll go over a special case," Steven said seriously. "The patient is a 28-year-old woman who has been infertile for three years."

The projector's light flickered through the blinds, and I saw my medical report on the screen.

"What makes this case special isn't just the technical challenge—it's the long-term follow-up care," Steven said, sounding completely confident.

"Three years of deception, and not a single slip-up. Dr. Brooks, this is probably a rare case in medical history," someone marveled.

"The research value is immense," Steven said, smiling lightly. "The psychological and behavioral manipulation of the patient alone offers priceless data for any similar future cases."

I clenched my fists.

Then Steven showed them some surgical photos. I could see myself from three years ago, completely unconscious on the table.

"A perfect pelvic surgery." Michael stood up, pointing at the screen and explaining in detail. "No marks left at all."

"The real highlight is post-operative care," Natalie said calmly and professionally. "We designed a complete fake check-up process."

"This is a perfect case, Dr. Brooks," someone exclaimed.

Steven nodded slightly. "That's not enough."

He pulled up an application form. "I propose we use this case to apply for the National Rare Disease Research Grant."

"Will the patient continue to cooperate?" someone asked.

"She will," Steven replied calmly and confidently. "Next week, we'll schedule her for the first special treatment to collect more data."

Applause broke out, while tears blurred my vision.

A young doctor raised his hand. "Does this involve ethical issues? The patient is totally unaware, isn't she?"

"Sometimes, for a major medical breakthrough, you have to break a few rules," Steven said, voice steady and sure.

He paused and said, "Her condition is complicated, but using this opportunity to contribute to human medicine is far more meaningful than letting her waste away on futile treatments."

The room went silent for a moment, then murmurs of agreement rippled through the air.

After the meeting, most of the doctors left.

Natalie stayed behind and walked up to Steven. "So, what's the grant amount?"

"7 million dollars," Steven said quietly.

Natalie gently stroked her belly. "Great. I'm going to give you a healthy baby."

"I know. You're so much better than her," Steven said, his tone affectionate.

I was shaking so hard that I couldn't stop myself, and I accidentally knocked over a vase.

"Who's out there?" Natalie snapped, turning around, her eyes sharp with suspicion.

I darted into a nearby storage room, my heart pounding.

Natalie's footsteps grew closer.

Steven said calmly, "Don't worry. Even if it were her, no one would believe her. Once we get the grant, we'll get her some real psychological help. Her delusional disorder needs to be managed."

"Yeah, you're right," Natalie said with admiration.

Their footsteps slowly faded away down the hall.

I slid down to the floor, completely drained.

I had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

I staggered out of the storage room, forcing myself toward the exit. Every step was pure agony, but the gate was almost within reach.

Suddenly, an ambulance siren ripped through my ears. I had this bad feeling.

I felt myself collapsing backwards, slamming into the steps with a sickening thud.

"Someone just fainted," a stranger yelled.

I was hoisted onto a stretcher and whisked away into the emergency room.

"Her blood pressure is low. She might be going into shock," the doctor said, examining me.

He glanced at my medical record, frowning. "Are you Dr. Brooks's wife?"

I could only manage a weak shake of my head. I tried to deny it.

"I need to notify your husband," he said, reaching for the phone.

Twenty minutes later, Steven showed up by my bed, wearing that worried look.

"Babe, are you okay?" he said, pulling me into a crushing embrace right there in front of everyone.

His voice tickled my ear—gentle, but ice-cold underneath. "You shouldn't have heard that."

He held me so tightly as if afraid that I might escape again.

I closed my eyes, wondering when this nightmare would finally end.