My wife Eva was lying on my operating table, pregnant with her first love’s child for the eighth time. This time, I didn’t lose control like the previous seven times. Instead, I calmly sutured her wounds and explained the post-operative precautions. Having performed abortions for Eva so many times, I’d long become the laughingstock of the entire hospital. After the surgery, Eva grabbed my sleeve and sobbed, “George, this time Chris was drugged with an aphrodisiac. I had to help him… Don’t worry, you’re my husband. I’ll only have children for you.” I shook off her hand and walked out of the ward. Before our marriage, we’d signed an agreement. I would give Eva eight chances to make mistakes. Now those chances were used up. The agreement was now in effect, and her billion-dollar fortune would transfer directly to my name. Like the previous seven times, I came to her ward carrying that white medical box. When Eva saw me, she immediately pushed herself up to sit. Her tone carried undisguised urgency. “George, did you extract the cord blood?” This was the only question she asked after each surgery. Chris had a hereditary blood disease. She claimed she was thinking of me. But the truth was simply to extract cord blood from the unformed embryo—to have a constant, sufficient supply for Chris. I said nothing, simply setting it down gently in the exact spot she’d specified. Before her eighth abortion, we’d once had a child of our own. Back then, to find a match for Chris, she hadn’t hesitated to induce labor on her three-month pregnancy—all for that slim possibility of compatibility. When I discovered the truth, we had a terrible fight. In the heat of our argument, I rushed out and got into a car accident that nearly crippled my right hand. After nearly three years of grueling rehabilitation, I finally stood in an operating room again. She’d held me then, trembling and sobbing, choking out a vow: “George, never again. We’ll have our own child.” I believed her. But in the end, my trust was misplaced. Seeing my silence, clear impatience flashed through her eyes. A young nurse, reading the room, quickly spoke up: “Eva, don’t worry. Everything you asked for, George has already arranged.” Only then did her expression relax slightly, showing a hint of relief. After several consecutive surgeries, I was utterly exhausted. I didn’t want to play along with this charade anymore and turned to leave. But she suddenly called out, her eyes reddening instantly. “I’m sorry, George. I swear this is the last time. Once I’ve recovered, we’ll have a baby right away, okay?” My steps halted. A baby? After eight abortions, her uterine wall was already as fragile as paper. Without my years of desperate effort to treat her and perform her surgeries, she would never be able to become a mother again. Just then, the ward door crashed open! Chris burst in, face flushed, swinging his fist at me. “You bastard! She’s your wife and you had the heart to perform this kind of surgery on her! How many times has it been? Do you realize you’re committing a sin?” I adjusted my crooked glasses and raised my own fist. Before I could fight back, a dull pain shot through the back of my head. I turned around—Eva had grabbed the cup from the bedside table and smashed it against my head. Warm blood gushed from the back of my skull. She jumped out of bed, spreading her arms to shield Chris protectively behind her. “Enough! George, how long are you going to keep this up? Why did you hit Chris? You know perfectly well Chris has underlying health conditions—emotional stress affects his condition! Do you have any medical ethics at all? Hitting a patient—do you even deserve to be a doctor?” The accusations rained down like hail. I covered my bleeding head, my eyes burning painfully. But what hurt more was my heart, torn bloody by her. My throat tight, I forced out each word: “He hit me first.” What I got in return was an even more self-righteous rebuttal. “So what if he hit you? You removed the child from my belly, but it was also his flesh and blood! You killed his child.” But I remembered—every single time, it was she who knelt before me begging for the surgery. Looking at her righteous face, I suddenly didn’t even have the energy to argue. After all, she’d performed this gaslighting routine too many times. Blood dripped continuously through my fingers. The young nurse beside me turned pale with fright. She quickly wheeled over a wheelchair: “George, you’re badly hurt. Let me take you to get bandaged!” Just as I was about to sit down, Chris suddenly groaned and collapsed softly into Eva’s arms. The wheelchair that had just been brought over was immediately seized by Eva and pushed in front of Chris. “Chris, sit down quick! I’ll take you to see a doctor!” The young nurse tried to intervene, looking distressed.
“This wheelchair was prepared for George. You can’t—” Eva glanced at me like she was granting charity, then scolded the nurse: “Can’t you see who the real patient is? He’s a doctor—what could possibly be wrong with him? If you keep blocking us, I’ll report your hospital for discrimination, refusing emergency care, and competing with patients for resources!” Watching how nervously she protected Chris, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d defended me like that. The atmosphere was cold as iron. Eva forcefully wheeled the chair away. The young nurse looked at me pleadingly. I said flatly, “It’s fine. Not gonna die yet.” Just after I’d had my wound treated, Eva sent someone with something. There was even a note in her handwriting attached: *[George, I’m sorry. Chris just lost a child and his emotions aren’t stable. Please be understanding. After all, I agreed to remove the baby for your sake.]* *[Chris isn’t feeling well right now. I need to stay with him. I’ll come back later.]* I opened the container—it was a bowl of century egg and pork congee. I let out a bitter smile. She’d actually forgotten I was allergic to century eggs. I remembered once accidentally eating century eggs—my whole body broke out in hives, my breathing grew rapid, I nearly suffocated. When she saw me like that, her eyes had turned red with panic. She’d taken me to the hospital overnight, kneeling before the doctor and crying like a child. Just a few short years. After Chris returned to the country, everything changed. I returned to our cold, empty home and slowly began sorting through our belongings. Looking through the letters she’d once written me—page after page of burning, passionate words. My heart trembled uncontrollably. I thought if she came home tonight and properly apologized, I wouldn’t need to be so ruthless. Divorce would be enough. After all, I could support myself. I waited for her in the living room all night. She never came back. It wasn’t until the next day that I saw Chris’s Instagram. His latest post was a grid of nine photos, centered on a brand-new Porsche. The caption read: “Gift from Eva. She said it was to make up for aborting our child. Since her attitude is so sincere, I forgive her.” In the photos, his face was pressed against Eva’s, their smiles glaring. The comments section had exploded. Mutual friends who recognized Eva were condemning Chris as a homewrecker. And another user with an obvious Eva profile picture replied below, her words fierce and certain: “He’s not the other man. The unloved one is the other man. If you keep spouting nonsense, I don’t mind reporting you to the police.” After spending the entire night away, she had thoroughly extinguished the last bit of warmth remaining in my heart. I calmly organized my resignation letter and got up to head to the hospital. Just as I reached the hospital entrance, I ran into Eva approaching with a flushed face. She didn’t even notice the gauze wrapped around the back of my head before launching into an interrogation. “Did you hire someone to make that Instagram post yesterday? Because of your stunt, everyone’s attacking Chris now! I want you to apologize to him immediately!” She shoved an Instagram post full of hate comments in my face. Looking at her, I felt only absurdity. That bragging post was clearly something Chris himself had posted to Instagram for attention. Now that it had sparked outrage, it had become my fault. Before, when colleagues stood up for me, Eva would show up at the hospital every day to make scenes—cursing them out like a shrew in public, even spreading sexual rumors about a male colleague that caused problems in his marriage. Over time, no one dared speak up for me anymore. Who would dare meddle now? A self-mocking smile tugged at my lips. “You should go ask him yourself. After all, who else could log into his account?” She seemed suddenly enlightened and froze. She’d only taken a few steps when she turned back. “You’re still angry? Just because I didn’t come home last night?” I said nothing. Her tone suddenly softened, taking on a familiar cadence. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I roughed it outside for the night. Don’t misunderstand. You work so hard normally—if I’d come back that late, you definitely wouldn’t have slept well. I felt bad for you.” The first time she’d said this, I’d been overwhelmingly moved. But ever since I discovered that the nights she claimed she “didn’t want to wake me” were actually spent by Chris’s mother’s hospital bed, too afraid Chris would get tired—willing to suffer herself, using her “privileged status” to personally care for them night after night—these words had become nothing but mockery. After a long silence, she finally noticed the gauze on my forehead. Her eyes flickered. Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang sharply in her pocket. She glanced at the screen, her expression changing. “Chris? Don’t panic, I’ll be right there!” She didn’t even finish a complete sentence to me before clutching her phone and rushing off. I’d thought she might actually be willing to believe me. But shortly after she left, I saw Chris’s Instagram post: “Thanks to Eva for the villa gift. She told me not to worry about bad people, and I’m obediently listening.” I clicked on his profile, deleted and blocked him. It didn’t matter anymore.
The next day, I was packing my luggage when the department director suddenly called. When I arrived at the hospital, the office door was already surrounded by people. Things came flying at me. Before I could react, someone raised a bottle of sulfuric acid and threw it at me. Though I dodged to the side, the liquid still splashed onto the back of my hand, sending searing pain through it. “Quack! My child went to the ICU after taking your medicine! Give me back my child’s life!” Heart-wrenching wails filled the entire corridor. My head buzzed. After all these years, I’d always been meticulous with my work, never making mistakes. How could a child possibly have ended up in the ICU from taking the wrong medication I prescribed? Enduring the chaos and the stinging pain in my hand, I pulled up the surveillance footage. In the video, Chris secretly switched out the medication I’d prescribed for the child. My entire body went cold. I headed straight for his ward. Eva was feeding him soup, her movements gentle. “Chris!” Eva immediately stood up, using her body to block him: “What are you doing?” A posture of absolute protection, as if terrified I might do something to him. From beginning to end, she never noticed I was still injured. Suppressing my fury, I shoved my phone in front of her face. Eva glanced at it, her expression abnormally cold. “Chris didn’t do it on purpose. He probably just accidentally grabbed the wrong medicine.” “You’re the doctor. You bear ultimate responsibility for the patient. Consider this a lesson. It’s lucky no one died. In fact, you should be thanking Chris.” Any reasonable person could see this was deliberate switching, deliberate framing! Yet for Chris’s sake, she lied with her eyes wide open. “Fine. We’ll let the police decide.” The moment the word “police” left my mouth, Chris immediately dropped to his knees before me, tears streaming down his face. “George, I really didn’t mean to! The two bottles looked similar—I accidentally mixed them up. Please don’t call the police!” Eva immediately helped him up, glaring at me. “George, do you have to be so petty? If you’re going to report him, report me too! I was the one who told him to get the medicine!” “Hospitals mix up medications all the time, don’t they? If you really pursue this, it changes the whole nature of it. Are you trying to destroy him?” As she spoke, she snatched the medicine bottle from my hand. She raised it high, her face showing ruthless determination. “You’re saying the child got sick from this medicine? Then today I’ll destroy it! Without evidence, let’s see how you investigate!” My pupils constricted sharply: “Don’t!” That bottle contained medication to repair her uterus! The formula was difficult to compound. If she smashed it, her uterus might truly be beyond saving! But she’d already swung her arm down without a moment’s hesitation. “Crash!” The bottle shattered, pills scattering across the floor. She lifted her foot and ground them beneath her shoe until they became dirty powder. In that moment, my heart was ground to pieces along with them. Looking at her again, I saw her tightly embracing Chris. All my boiling emotions suddenly drained away completely. I took a deep breath, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Fine, Eva. I hope you won’t regret this.”
After leaving the hospital, I called my lawyer. “That agreement—when does it take effect?” “Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. The assets will automatically transfer to your account.” After hanging up, I booked myself a flight out. My phone buzzed. Eva had sent a message: *”George, stop being angry, okay? I’ll spend some money at the hospital, pull some strings to smooth things over.”* *”You’ll still be the attending physician. No one can touch your position. Just don’t hurt Chris.”* I didn’t reply. Instead, I deleted all her contact information. Early the next morning, I was dragging my suitcase to the airport when Eva suddenly appeared, her hand clamping down on my wrist like a vice. “Was it you?” Before I could speak, I was roughly shoved into the back seat by her two men. I was dragged to a mountaintop, yanked from the car like a dead weight. “You released that surveillance footage online, didn’t you? George, when did you become so disobedient? I already told you I’d handle your situation. Why did you have to smear Chris?” “To teach you not to be so clever in the future, you’re going to the bungee platform to cool off!” I froze. This wasn’t my doing at all. But she gave me no chance to explain, ordering them to tie me up directly. The rope tightened. I was hoisted up, suspended outside the bungee platform hundreds of meters high. Terror crashed over me like a tidal wave. She knew I was afraid of heights. As a child, when my father’s promotion made others jealous, I was kidnapped and pushed from a tall building. Though there was an air cushion below, the sensation of weightlessness and near-death became a nightmare I couldn’t escape for years. She knew all of this. “No! Eva! I’m scared! Please!” I struggled desperately. She walked coldly to the platform edge, looking down at me. “George, if you do something wrong, you must accept punishment.” “Do you know? You drove Chris to the point of suicide! If I hadn’t discovered it early, he’d be a puddle of flesh right now!” “I clearly told you how important he is to me. Why do you insist on hurting him?” She waved her hand. The next second, I was shoved down hard. The rope bound to my ankles snapped taut with tremendous force, violently stopping my plummeting body. Then brutally yanking me back up! I hadn’t finished coughing from breaking the water’s surface before the weightless sensation hit again. I don’t know how many times I was tortured like this. Just as my consciousness was fading, my phone received a text message. *[Congratulations, George. Your agreement officially took effect today at 9:00 AM. All contracted assets have been transferred to your designated account.]* I forced out a bitter smile. Above, Eva seemed satisfied. Before leaving, she instructed her subordinate: “Let him stay here overnight. Release him after he’s calmed down.” She left with her people. As soon as she was gone, the man above began cutting the rope with a knife. The rope grew thinner and thinner. It snapped. My entire body crashed toward the water’s surface. Lake water flooded my ears and nose. Was I going to die? The next day, at the hospital. Eva had cared for Chris all night. Once he fell asleep, she rubbed her temples. “Release George. One night should be enough for him to clear his head.” Just then, her assistant rushed in, panic written across her face. “Eva! The sir is missing! We only found cut rope at the bungee platform—the person’s gone!” “Also, the bank urgently notified us that all your accounts, equity, and assets were completely cleared and transferred at nine o’clock this morning! The accounts are empty now!” The bowl in Eva’s hand fell to the floor. All color drained from her face.
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