Chapter 2

On the day Irene was discharged from the hospital, Thomas threw a grand party for her. Irene proudly announced that she would use her new hands to win the International Youth Art Contest in front of all the attendees. However, just as she raised her glass to toast everyone and thank them for their blessings, her hands suddenly began to spasm uncontrollably. The wine glass shattered on the floor with a crack, and the wine in it spilled all over her. At first, it was just a slight twitch. But very quickly, it turned into violent tremors, as if something were trying to crawl out from under her skin. The party ended in chaos. The next day, large patches of rashes began to appear on her arms. Those were followed by blisters, ruptures, and festering wounds. In just three short days, the hands that Irene put all her hopes in began to give off a foul, rotting smell. With a loud bang, my door was kicked open. Thomas barged in, his eyes red with fury. He grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall. The pain made my vision go dark. "Nadine, you bitch! What did you do?" Thomas bellowed. He clamped his hand around my neck, squeezing so hard that it felt like he was going to crush my throat. "Why are Irene's hands rotting? Why? Tell me why!" he demanded furiously. I found it so ridiculous that I laughed. In my previous life, I too suffered a severe postoperative infection after I donated my hand nerves. I kept running a high fever, and my wounds constantly oozed pus. I felt like I was going to die. I had begged Thomas to save me. Yet, all he did was stand coldly beside my bed with a displeased frown. He said nonchalantly, "It's not that serious. It's just a fever. Drink more water, and you'll be fine." During the entire time I was sick, he hadn't even taken a single step toward my bed. But now that something had gone wrong with Irene's hands, he was going insane. He raised his hand to slap me. "How dare you still laugh?" I didn't dodge and just stared back at him coldly. "Aren't you forgetting something? Irene has my nerves in her body." A trace of sanity finally returned to his eyes. He realized that I was right and that he couldn't deal with me just yet. If Irene needed a second surgery, they might still need me as the donor. He let go of me and put on his affectionate act again. "I'm sorry, Nadine. I was too anxious and got carried away." Indeed, he was very anxious. He didn't argue with me any further. Instead, he arranged a deluxe single hospital room for Irene. He requested the hospital to administer the best antibiotics and immunosuppressants available. At the same time, he hired several bodyguards to keep a close watch on me. I was not allowed to go out alone. Any chance I had of secretly escaping was instantly cut off. Worse still, I was forced to tag along when Thomas visited Irene. When we arrived, I saw that she was clad in an expensive silk hospital gown. Two nurses were carefully tending to her. Despite her rotting hands being wrapped in layers of gauze, it did nothing to conceal the pungent smell of decaying flesh. Her eyes turned bloodshot as soon as I entered her line of sight. It was as if she were looking at her sworn enemy. And the moment she noticed the faint paint stains on my hand that I hadn't washed off completely, she completely lost it. She pointed at me and screamed hysterically, "How can you still have the audacity to paint? You ruined me! You have no right to ever hold a paintbrush again? You don't deserve to! You're unworthy!" Thomas shoved me aside and rushed over to hold Irene in his arms. "Calm down, Irene. Be careful with your wounds." After putting in a lot of effort to soothe her, he wrapped his arm around me and led me back to my studio. I tried to resist at the doorway, but he threw me to the ground gruffly. "Irene is already in such a state! You shouldn't have triggered her by leaving those paint stains on your hands," Thomas said grimly. After ignoring my desperate pleas and explanations, his gaze turned frosty as he charged inside. He grabbed the easel and slammed it down on my precious art supplies. My paints, brushes, and drawing boards were scattered everywhere. My studio became a complete mess. Still unsatisfied, Thomas stomped around and tore apart every artwork he could get his hands on. Upon turning around, he noticed that I was watching him tear everything down with a calm expression. He glared at me viciously with eyes full of hatred as he spat, "This is all your fault!" After destroying everything, Thomas couldn't wait even a second longer before rushing back to take care of Irene. I was left sitting in the middle of the studio, hugging my knees. The tears I thought had already dried up in my past life began to fall once more. Just then, someone knocked on the door. "Nadine, are you in there?"