Willy turned back to the doctor. "Hurry up and proceed with the surgery. I still have to take Sophia to pick out the gift I ordered for Benny. Oh, and be sure to use extra anesthesia—I don’t want Carol to feel any pain."
The footsteps faded into the distance. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to cry. It was never a random attack. The man wasn’t mentally ill at all. He had been hired—by my own husband.
My little boy... my precious child... had been murdered. On his birthday. All because of a fabricated lie. And the one who orchestrated it all was his own father.
Agonizing pain tore through my body as the cold surgical instruments moved within me. My anesthesia immunity made every cut, every incision, a living nightmare. The agony finally overwhelmed me and I blacked out.
When I opened my eyes again, Willy was beside me. His gaze was filled with feigned sorrow, his tone dripping with affection.