Just then, the door to the hospital room swung open, and Kendra stepped inside.

“Well, look who’s awake.” Her red lips curved into a taunting smile. “How do you feel? Missing a piece of yourself—doesn’t it feel lighter?”

Daisie didn’t argue. She just glared at her, her eyes cold and sharp.

Kendra hummed lightly, setting a basket of fruit on the bedside table as if she were paying a friendly visit.

Then she leaned down, so close that her perfume stung Daisie’s nose, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear.

“I’ve got some good news for you—that useless father of yours is dead. Dr. Wilson—that doctor I hired… Wasn’t his technique impressive? I did spend quite a bit of money to make sure he got the job done.”

Her smile deepened. “Oh, and one more thing.”

She straightened slowly, taking a moment to admire the flicker of pain twisting Daisie’s face. Then she leaned back in again, her tone turning almost gleeful.

“Truth is… my kidney was perfectly fine. Never had a problem.”

Daisie’s pupils shrank.

Kendra laughed softly, savoring her shock, and brushed her hair back with deliberate grace.

“But what can you do? Willard believes me. He loves me. The moment I said I needed a transplant, he had everything arranged right away. Tell me—doesn’t that prove how much he adores me?”

Daisie shook her head in disbelief. “No… No, that’s impossible…”

If that was true, then all her suffering—signing that donation agreement, sacrificing a kidney just to save her father—had been nothing but a joke for someone’s fun.

Seeing the hatred rising in Daisie’s eyes, Kendra smiled even wider.

“That’s right. Hate me. It suits you,” she said with a sneer. “Trash like you deserves nothing better than to rot in hatred. Remember this well—you killed your father. If you hadn’t offended me, if you hadn’t stolen my man, Willard would never have agreed to let the doctor I bribed operate on him.”

She leaned forward again, her eyes glittering with twisted delight. “But don’t be too sad. Your father’s death wasn’t actually that painful.”

Her tone dropped to a whisper as she elaborated, “I made sure to tell Dr. Safman to use less anesthesia. That way, the ‘success rate’ would be higher. You know what that means, right? Your dear dad was fully conscious on the operating table.”

“Can you picture it?” she went on softly, savoring each word. “He could feel the scalpel slicing into his chest, cutting through skin and muscle, touching his organs… Poor thing—his eyes must’ve been wide open, bloodshot, his whole body shaking in agony. But he was strapped down, couldn’t even move.”

Kendra watched as Daisie began to tremble uncontrollably. The former reached out and patted the latter’s shoulder in mock sympathy.

“He kept calling your name till the very end,” she said with a sigh. “Such a touching father-daughter bond. I almost cried listening to it.”

Every word landed like a knife, cutting deep into Daisie’s chest.

Her body convulsed with rage, her wound tore open, and blood began seeping through her hospital gown.

“Oh, right,” Kendra said lightly, glancing down at her with a bright, almost cheerful tone. “I almost forgot. Willard said that once you’re all healed, I might still have use for you. Maybe your cornea next? Or your heart?”

She grinned. “So make sure you stay alive, my little… walking organ bank.”

Walking organ bank…

Those three words shattered what was left of Daisie’s strength.

Blood rushed up her throat, spilling from her lips. Soon, the world tilted and darkened before her eyes.

Then, she collapsed back into unconsciousness.

Nobody knew how long Daisie had been unconscious before the pain woke her again.

A sharp, throbbing ache pulsed from the wound on her right side, as if a blunt knife were twisting deep inside her flesh.

She barely shifted before a familiar voice broke the silence—low, tight, and edged with urgency.

“You’re awake?”

Turning her head, she saw Willard sitting beside her bed, his tall frame hunched slightly in the chair. His brows were drawn tight, his gaze fixed on her with what almost looked like… concern.

Her lips twitched into a stiff, bitter smile.

How ironic.

The man who had forced her onto the operating table, taken her kidney, and driven her father to his death now sat there pretending to care.

She closed her eyes, unwilling to even look at him.

“The doctor said your emotions got worked up and the stitches reopened,” Willard said with a sigh, sounding helpless. “Daisie, what exactly are you trying to do?”

‘Trying to do?’ she asked back inwardly.

Her eyes snapped open, burning with fury.

“My dad’s dead. You think I should be celebrating?” Her voice trembled with anger. “If it weren’t for Kendra, he wouldn’t have died at all!”

Willard’s frown deepened. He let out another sigh.

“Every surgery carries risk. Dr. Wilson is one of the best specialists in the field. No one wanted this outcome. You can’t blame Kendra for that. She was only trying to help.”

“Trying to help?” Daisie let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Willard, do you even realize? Kendra was never sick! Her kidney’s perfectly fine! She didn’t need mine at all!”

His expression darkened immediately. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“I’m not making it up!” she shot back, her voice shaking with anger. “She faked her illness! She lied to you! She admitted it herself! She did it just to get back at me!”

“Enough!”

Willard shot to his feet, disappointment and disgust flashing in his eyes.

“Jeez, Daisie, I used to think you were just foolish. I didn’t realize you could be this cruel! Kendra went out of her way to bring in an expert from abroad to save your father. She’d just had her own transplant and was still weak, but she came to visit you anyway! And you? Instead of being grateful, you accuse her of faking her illness? Have you completely lost your conscience?”

Daisie trembled as she stared at him.

“Willard,” she said, her voice hoarse, “do you even dare to check the security footage? Right here, in this room, check what she did and said to me yesterday! Watch it yourself, and tell me if she looks sick! Tell me if she’s really not pretending!”

She pointed toward the security camera mounted in the corner.

Willard followed her gaze. For a fleeting moment, doubt flickered across his face.

Looking at how certain Daisie seemed, he contemplated, ‘Could it be… that Kendra really has been pretending after all?’

Just then, the door to the hospital room creaked open.

Kendra stepped in, her voice trembling with emotion as she said softly, “Hey… did I come at a bad time? I thought I heard you arguing in here…”

Willard immediately crossed the room to support her, his tone tender and full of concern.

“Why did you get out of bed? The doctor told you to rest.”

Kendra leaned into his arms, her tearful gaze drifting toward Daisie.

“Daisie… are you still mad at me? I’m sorry… I know it’s my fault. If it weren’t for me needing that kidney, you wouldn’t have had to go through this. I was heartbroken about your dad, too. I really did everything I could…”

Daisie felt a wave of nausea rise in her chest just looking at her.

“Keep pretending! Go on! Keep acting!” she shouted. “Willard, check the security footage! See for yourself how she bragged yesterday about faking her illness and how she admitted she was behind my father’s death!”

Kendra flinched violently, as though she’d been startled at those words.

“Willard… I didn’t… I know she hates me for taking you away, but I never said those things. I was devastated by Uncle Joe’s death, too. How could she accuse me like this?”

Willard instinctively wrapped his arms around Kendra, patting her back gently in comfort before turning on Daisie with a glare.

“Daisie, have you caused enough trouble?” he snapped. “Look at what you’ve done—Kendra just had surgery, her body’s weak, and she’s still worried about you. Yet you’re acting like a crazy woman throwing accusations!”

“I regret ever letting you through my family’s doors!” he blurted out. “Your dad’s death was his own bad luck. It had nothing to do with Kendra! You bring misfortune to your own parents, and now, you want to drag others down with you?!”

Daisie’s fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, every breath catching in her throat.

‘So this is what he really thinks of me,’ she realized.

What else was there to say?

The proof was in the security footage, yet he wouldn’t even bother to look.

He only believed the fragile little angel crying in his arms.

At that moment, Kendra reached out gently toward Daisie’s exposed hand resting on the blanket.

“Daisie, it’s all my fault. Please don’t be upset anymore, alright—”

“Get away from me!” Daisie snapped, jerking her hand back.

“Ah!” Kendra gasped in fright, stumbling backward on purpose. Her elbow struck the insulated bottle on the bedside table, knocking it over.

The thermos hit the floor with a crash, and boiling water splashed in every direction.

“Kendra!” Willard’s expression changed instantly. Without a thought, he lunged forward, shielding Kendra with his back.

“Ugh!” he grunted as the scalding liquid hit his back, his face tightening in pain.

“Willard! Are you alright?” Kendra cried, clutching his arm in panic.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. Ignoring the burn, he looked down to check her anxiously. “What about you? Did you get burned?”

“I… I think my ankle hurts a little…” she whimpered pitifully, lifting her foot ever so slightly.

Willard turned sharply toward the door and shouted, “Doctor! Doctor! Somebody get in here now!”

He didn’t even spare a single glance at the hospital bed behind him.

Daisie, who had been sitting closest to the table, hadn’t even had time to react. The boiling water had splashed directly onto her.

A sharp, searing pain spread across her skin, making her body tremble uncontrollably.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Her sudden movement had violently torn at the surgical wound on her abdomen.

She could feel the warmth of her own blood gushing from the reopened incision, soaking through her hospital gown and the sheets beneath her.

The agony was unbearable. She curled in on herself, cold sweat breaking across her forehead, her lips drained of color.

Soon, several doctors and nurses rushed into the room.

“Mr. Grantham! Ms. Spender!”

“Hurry! Check her ankle! No scars, you hear me? Use the best medication you’ve got!”

Willard’s voice was urgent, his attention fixed entirely on Kendra despite the stinging pain in his own back.

With that, the medical staff swarmed around Kendra.

No one noticed Daisie.

No one saw the blood pooling beneath her, spreading wider and darker by the second.

Her vision began to blur.

She could hear their voices, Willard’s worried tone calling Kendra’s name again and again, but it was like listening from underwater.

She tried to open her mouth to call for help, to say anything.

But the sound that came out was barely audible, even to herself.

The footsteps faded.

The room fell completely silent.

In that stillness, Daisie felt something inside her finally shatter.

Hatred bloomed in her chest like wildfire, spreading until it filled every corner of her being.

Once she went abroad, she swore she would make Willard and Kendra pay—strip them of everything, down to their skin and bones.

And when Daisie made a promise, she always meant it.

But before she could think another thought, the pain overwhelmed her. Her body gave out, and one more time, she fell into unconsciousness.