Chapter 2

"Awake?" Chandler glanced at me, his eyes cold, like he was looking at something disgusting stuck to his shoe.

I gritted my teeth and forced out, "Dr. Manning, I need the pain pump turned up."

Chandler flipped through the chart at the end of the bed and said slowly, "Ms. Sharp, your post-op reaction is within the normal range.

"Overusing pain meds will mess with your digestive system and isn't good for your recovery."

"I can't stand this pain anymore," I cried out.

"Oh?" Chandler arched an eyebrow, his tone elegant yet biting.

He continued, "Back when you were so desperate to get pregnant that you drugged yourself, did you ever think about what would happen now? If you can't even handle a bit of pain, how do you expect to become Mrs. Manning?"

The two nurses' faces changed in a flash, going from sympathetic to full-on judgmental gossip mode.

I was shaking with anger, my chest so tight I could barely catch my breath. "Chandler! Don't you dare accuse me of that. I never did such a thing."

Chandler didn't even bother listening to my defense. Instead, he told the nurse. "Press down on her stomach, help her uterus contract and get the gas out."

One nurse stepped up and, with zero mercy, shoved down hard right next to my incision.

I let out a blood-curdling scream. It was pure agony, like getting sliced open again, raw and wide awake.

The days that followed were straight-up hell on earth. My wound healed at a snail's pace, kept getting infected, and just wouldn't stop oozing.

Every day, the worst part was when they changed the dressing.

And Chandler made sure that agony was dialed up to the max every single time.

"Alright, you interns are here to watch and learn. This is a textbook case of post-C-section wound infection management," Chandler announced.

He stood at the foot of my bed, with seven or eight fresh-faced interns in white coats trailing behind him.

Rowena snapped right away, "Dr. Manning, what's your problem? Changing the dressing is bad enough, but you brought a whole audience? Do you even care that Janice's a real person? She's a young woman, for crying out loud."

Chandler didn't even spare her a glance. His eyes stayed fixed on my pale face as he cut her off, slow and deliberate. "Ms. Ellington, mind your words.

"Here in the hospital, I'm just the doctor, and Ms. Sharp is my patient. Letting interns watch is how teaching hospitals work. It's all about training future doctors. As a patient, Ms. Sharp is supposed to cooperate, both with her treatment and with our teaching. That's just how it goes."

The head nurse chimed right away, trying to smooth things over. "Ms. Sharp, Dr. Manning really is looking out for you. The more future doctors who see your case, the more ideas we get. Maybe your wound will heal faster. Just think of it as your way of helping out medical science."

'Yeah, right medical contribution. Why don't you go be the guinea pig for once?' I cursed.

With them all backing each other up, they whipped off my blanket and yanked down my pants, putting me on display like some exhibit. My most private, most humiliating wound laid bare for a crowd of strangers to stare at.

Most of the interns looked barely out of college, their eyes flickering with curiosity, awkwardness, and some didn't even bother to hide how grossed out they were.

I bit down hard on my lip, burying my face in my arm until my sleeve was soaked with tears.

Chandler pulled on his gloves, grabbed a pair of tweezers with an iodine-soaked cotton ball, and practically manhandled my swollen, inflamed wound. All the while, he was lecturing the interns in that deep, resonant voice of his.

He said, "Take a look. The edges of the wound are red and swollen, the skin isn't closing up right, there's yellow discharge, and a foul odor. Textbook infection."

The tweezers scraped against my skin, and a jolt of pain shot through me, making me shudder.

Chandler added, his words dripping with implication, "There are plenty of reasons for this kind of infection. Maybe the patient's immune system is weak, or... maybe she didn't pay attention to hygiene after surgery, letting bacteria run wild."

His pointed words set off a wave of whispers among the interns.

"I heard she's that bar girl who tried to trap a rich guy by getting pregnant."

"She looks so innocent, who would've thought."

"Look at Dr. Manning. He's totally disgusted. She must've latched onto him."

Rowena was so pissed she looked ready to tear those girls a new one, but two male interns jumped in and held her back before she could go off.

I finally snapped. I lifted my head off the pillow, eyes blazing red as I glared at Chandler. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Chandler finally stopped what he was doing, peeled off his gloves and tossed them into the trash.

"What do I want?" He let out a soft, mocking laugh. "I just want you to know, getting into the Manning family isn't that easy. However you managed to crawl into my bed. That's exactly how I'll make you crawl out."

'If you want to play hardball, I'm not about to let you walk all over me,' I thought, refusing to lose face.

"Well then, why don't you take your little crowd and march right out the same way you barged in," I snapped, my voice cold and defiant.

That night, I spiked a raging fever. The infection in my wound got even worse, and I was burning up. It was so out of it I couldn't tell if I was awake or dreaming.

In my feverish dreams, I was back to four years ago. Rowena and I had just graduated college and were scraping by in a cramped studio apartment.

My parents were at it again, fighting over money. My mom called, not to check in on me or ask about my job hunt, but crying and begging for money, saying Dad had hit her and she needed to go to the hospital.

Then Dad called right after, ranting that Mom was just pretending and telling me not to give her a cent. He even threatened to cause a scene at my work if I dared send her any money.

I hung up and just sat there on the freezing floor of our tiny place, staring out at the sea of city lights, feeling like not a single one was shining for me.