The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 5

Annelise kept her eyes open, staring blankly at the pale ceiling.

The room was so quiet she could clearly hear the heavy, rhythmic thumping of her own steadied heart beating inside her chest.

She slowly shifted her gaze, scanning the empty hospital room.

It was a private VIP suite, personally arranged by Hackett.

Enjoying the finest medical resources he could provide, lying on the very slaughterhouse table he had orchestrated, Annelise's mind began uncontrollably replaying every sound from the operating room.

The sharp clink of metal instruments.

The casual banter of Dr. Lewis.

Nurse Josie's weak, trembling question.

And Hackett. Every word he spoke was like an ice-tipped needle driving straight into her memory.

"Proceed as planned."

"Take it out."

Annelise's breath hitched. She remembered more.

Just as her baby was being lifted from her body and the surgery was nearing its end, Hackett's voice cut through the room—utterly devoid of warmth, as detached as if he were commenting on an academic paper. "Make the stitches neat. Don't leave a visible scar."

Lying there completely paralyzed, Annelise had almost burst into hysterical laughter upon hearing that.

He murdered her child, yet put on a hypocritical show of caring whether her stomach would bear an ugly scar.

Was this the final shred of "dignity" he could offer her as a husband?

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