Ella's POV

I could feel the dull throb in my head. It wasn’t a headache; it was more like my entire skull had been squeezed too tight. My fingers twitched, but when I tried to move them, it felt like something heavy was pressing down on me. The faint beeping of machines in the background seemed far away, like the sounds belonged to someone else.

My eyes fluttered open, but the light was too bright. I winced and squinted, trying to adjust. My face felt... different. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just the headache; it was my face.

I reached up instinctively, only to find my fingers met nothing but soft, scratchy bandages.

What the hell?

Panic surged in my chest as I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. The pain from my head shot down through my neck, making me wince. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse, dry rasp.

A nurse was standing at the side of my bed, her eyes wide with concern. She moved quickly toward me.

“Miss?” she said, her voice soothing, but I could tell she was trying to stay calm. "It’s okay. Don’t try to move too much."

My throat tightened, the questions bubbling up like a dam about to break. I could barely manage to croak out, “Where am I? What happened to me? Why... why is my face...?”

The nurse’s lips tightened slightly, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw fear flicker in her eyes. “You’ve been through a lot, Miss. I’ll get the doctor. Just hold on.”

Before I could protest, she was gone, disappearing out the door. My fingers still pressed against the bandages, trying to make sense of it all. What did she mean, “a lot?” My heart began to race again, the thudding in my chest growing louder.

My thoughts were a blur. I tried to remember what had happened, but all I could pull up were fragments—flashes of an accident, the feel of metal, glass breaking, and the terror of not being able to breathe.

The door clicked open, and a guy walked in .

He wasn’t wearing a lab coat this time, but I could still see the intensity in his eyes. He moved toward me quickly, sitting at the side of my bed, his gaze scanning me with a focused sharpness.

“Easy there,” he said, his voice low, almost as if afraid I’d break if he said anything too loud. “I'm doctor Micheal, the doctor In charge of your treatment.”

I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I managed a weak cough, and Michael reached over, lifting my upper body slightly with careful hands. It hurt, but I didn’t care. I needed answers.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” I rasped, my voice trembling. The fear was suffocating. “Why does my face feel—why am I wrapped up like this?”

Michael’s face darkened for a moment. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave me a look that I couldn’t quite decipher, before brushing his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath.

“You were in an accident,” he said softly, his tone heavy. “There was severe damage to your face. You’ve had surgery. We... had to repair it.”

Surgery? My face? I blinked, trying to process his words. I wanted to scream, to ask more questions, but the pain was clouding my thoughts.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I reached up, feeling the bandages, my fingers trembling as they slid over the rough material.

“Why... why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered, my voice shaking. “What... what happened to me? Why do I feel like I’m... not even me anymore?”

Michael hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides, as though he wasn’t sure how to break the news. His expression softened, and for a moment, I saw something in his eyes—guilt, maybe? Or was it sorrow?

“I couldn’t save your appearance,” he said quietly, “but I did everything I could to save you. Your injuries... they were severe.”

My breath hitched in my chest, and my heart twisted. The tears threatened to break free, but I forced them down. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t afford to break down.

“What kind of damage?” My voice was barely above a whisper now. “How bad is it?”

Michael met my gaze, his jaw clenching. “The bones in your face were shattered in multiple places. You’ve got lacerations... deep ones, and a lot of swelling. We had to reconstruct parts of your jaw and cheekbones.”

I blinked at him, my head spinning. The words were too much. They made no sense. I wasn’t ready to hear them, not like this. I felt detached, like I was hearing all this through a wall.

“I... I can’t...” The words got stuck in my throat. “What... about my baby?”

Michael’s eyes flickered, a split second of hesitation before he spoke. “Your pregnancy... it was touch-and-go for a while. But I did everything I could. The hemorrhaging was serious, but we managed to save your child. It is stable for now.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, my chest loosening. Thank God. My child was okay. But something in Michael’s tone made me uneasy.

"But...?" I asked, my voice faltering. "What...?"

He looked away briefly, and when he turned back to me, his face was hard. "There’s more, ma'am. You’re still very weak. There are risks—both for you and the pregnancy—but we’ve got you stabilized."

I absorbed his words, the reality sinking in like a weight in my stomach. It wasn’t over. The fight wasn’t over yet. But I couldn’t deal with that right now. Not with the way my face felt like a mask, heavy and foreign.

“I just... want to see myself,” I whispered, my hands trembling as I reached for the bandages again. “I need to see... what I look like.”

Michael’s hand shot out to stop me. “ ma'am—”

“Please,” I said urgently, my voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. I need to see... the truth.”

There was a long pause before Michael nodded. “Okay. But I need you to understand that it’s going to be hard.”

I didn’t care. I needed to know.

I yanked the bandages off, ignoring the pain that lanced through me. I gasped as my fingers scraped over the swollen, tender skin. The moment the bandages were fully off, I could see it—the raw, disfigured mess that used to be my face.

My mouth trembled, and I swallowed down the sob that wanted to break free. My reflection in the glass of the window was nothing like the person I remembered. It wasn’t even me anymore.

Tears started to fall, hot and fast. I couldn’t help it. My face, my identity—everything was different now.

The pain surged again, stabbing through my skull as the tears kept coming. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop the raw ache that seemed to be tearing me apart from the inside. The physical pain was nothing compared to what was happening inside me.

I clutched at my face, gasping, the agony intensifying. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The room spun, the world spinning around me.

“stop,” Michael’s voice cut through the fog of my panic, his hands gently grabbing mine, pulling them away from my face. “You need to calm down.”

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t calm down. It hurt too much. All of it.

“Please... make it stop,” I whispered through the tears, my voice breaking. “I don’t want to live like this.”

Michael’s face softened with pity, but I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want anything but the life I had before the accident, before everything changed.

“I know,” he whispered softly, wiping away my tears, though they kept coming. “I know, Ella. We’ll get through this. One step at a time.”

Michael sat beside me, his hands still gently holding mine, trying to offer comfort, but I felt a storm building inside me—anger, hatred, a desire for revenge. The tears had stopped flowing, but the aching emptiness remained. My body trembled, not from fear or pain, but from the rage that bubbled up from deep within me.

Michael’s hand moved to the back of my head, his fingers stroking my hair softly, as if to soothe me. His touch was kind, but it only made my fury grow.

“Ma'am,” he said quietly, his voice calm but filled with concern, “you need to take it easy. We’ll get through this, I will take your healing serious as the doctor in charge.”

I shook my head violently, my chest tight with fury. “Get through this?” My voice cracked with emotion. “I’m not going to get through anything, doctor, You don’t understand! Lily and Victor—they did this to me!” My voice was rising now, tremulous with anger. “They’ll pay. I’ll make sure of it.”

Michael’s expression hardened, and he leaned closer to me, his arms wrapping around me in a protective embrace. He held me, trying to calm me, but I couldn’t let it go. Not now, not after everything they had taken from me. The pain, the destruction—they had caused this.

“ ma'am, you need to focus on healing, not on revenge,” Michael whispered, his voice low, but steady.

I pushed against his chest, shoving him away. “No, doctor! You don’t get it!” I hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m going to make them regret this. They’ll pay for what they did to me.”