Freya Livingston woke up to icy metal beneath her back and a dozen strangers in white coats staring down at her.
The fluorescent lights above buzzed.
Her vision blurred.
Her heart raced.
One doctor stepped forward, brows furrowed. "Miss Livingston, a kidney transplant is a delicate procedure," he said, voice cold and clinical. "One wrong move, and it could fail. So please... cooperate."
"Cooperate?" Freya blinked, dazed for a second. Then it all came rushing back-Victor Carlton, that heartless bastard, had forced her into giving up one of her kidneys for his precious Fiona Livingston.
But why should she go along with it? They were about to cut out a piece of her body while she was still breathing.
A nurse pushed forward with a tray full of shiny surgical tools, inching it closer to the lead surgeon.
Out of nowhere, Freya found herself bursting off the table. She grabbed one of the gleaming scalpels and pointed it at them, yelling, "Back off! All of you-get away from me!"
A surgical knife could slice through flesh like butter-no one in the room knew that better than the medical staff. And right now, no one dared to get close to this clearly unhinged woman.
Freya held the scalpel tight as she bolted toward the door. The moment she flung it open, she spotted Victor waiting outside, pacing with a worried frown. But the second he saw it was her, that concern vanished-replaced by fury.
"Freya, what the hell are you doing?" he snapped. "The surgery's about to start! Fiona's in there waiting for your kidney, and you-"
He finally noticed the blade in her hand, freezing mid-sentence before reaching toward her. "Put that down. Now, Freya."
Freya let out a laugh-sharp, bitter, full of fury. Tears streamed down her face as she shouted, "Put it down? Are you kidding me?! Victor, what gives you the right to think I'd save that woman? Let me tell you, I'd rather die-slice my own kidney to shreds-than hand it over to that bitch."
As she spoke, she raised the knife and drove it into her own side with brutal force-again and again, right where her kidney should be. The searing pain hit her like a tidal wave, almost knocking her out cold, but even then, she laughed. Watching Victor's face twist from shock to sheer horror actually made her feel... satisfied.
The pain made it nearly impossible to get the words out, but that didn't stop her from cursing them with all her might. "Victor, I curse you and Fiona-you both deserve nothing but suffering. No happiness for the rest of your lives. May you be bound in misery for eternity. I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you both every single night..."
Her voice-sharp and savage-echoed in Victor's ears like a curse carved into bone. He'd never imagined a woman could be this ruthless.
Blood pooled at her feet, winding like a crimson river across the sterile floor.
And yet... she laughed.
Laughed, with her lips stretched into a broken smile, her teeth still white against all that red. Every word she uttered was a curse. A vow.
And it was meant for him.
*****
The pain... it was unbearable.
Freya trembled from it, her whole body twitching. She forced her eyes open, wanting just one last look at Victor's panicked expression. That alone would make all this pain worth it.
But when she opened her eyes again, what she saw wasn't him.
She found herself in a new bedroom. The air was sickly sweet with perfume, and the place was covered in stuffed animals and soft pink decor.
‘Where the hell was I? Why was I even here?!'
Still shaking from the confusion, she reached for the spot where she had stabbed herself. Nothing. No wounds, no bandages-her skin was smooth, unbroken. And... was her waist this tiny before?
Her hand moved to her cheek. Smooth as porcelain. No chubbiness, not even a blemish. Her face seemed more defined too-was that a pointed chin?
This didn't make sense. She had always gained weight easily, her whole life a battle with the scale. Victor had despised her weight-it was one of the reasons he turned away.
Disbelieving, she touched her waist and her face again. Yep, skin soft as silk, waist tight and springy.
But she'd gone through with it. She remembered every slice. Cut straight through muscle and ribs. There was no coming back from that kind of pain. Just thinking about it made her body tremble all over again. So how on earth did she look like this now?
Then it hit her.
Freya jerked upright in bed, heart pounding, not even bothering with her slippers. She stumbled over to the mirror-and froze.
A completely unfamiliar girl stared back at her in the mirror.
