To boost the success rate of the operation, my brother intentionally administered an insufficient dose of anesthesia.
I sensed the scalpel cutting into my flesh, and the scissors slicing through my tissues.
The agony was unbearable.
When frightened, people naturally call out for their mothers.
I nearly did too—until the harsh reality struck me: I no longer had a mother.
My brother, James, looked at me with contempt, raising an eyebrow.
"Never thought you were a phony," he said scornfully.
"No wonder you never felt like kin. All that time I spent caring for you—what a waste!"
His words were cutting, but I was beyond feeling hurt.
My eyes grew hazy as I gazed at the ceiling, a wry smile playing on my lips.
"Don't be angry, James," I whispered. "After this, I'll never refer to you as my brother again."
This displeased him. His face darkened, and he deliberately twisted the scalpel. A jolt of pain surged through me, causing my entire body to shake and break out in a cold sweat.
"Good," he snarled, wearing a smug grin. "You don't deserve to call me your brother."
The procedure seemed endless. So long, in fact, that I began to wonder if I had already passed away.
At last, James finished the final suture. He cocked his head, looked down at me, and said with a smirk, "You're fortunate. You survived."
I blinked languidly, the pain fading into a cold numbness.
"Thank you... Dr. Whitman," I mumbled.
Something about my tone set him off. His face contorted with anger, and he slammed the scissors onto the tray before storming out of the room.
From the operating table, I could hear the voices outside.
My mom's anxious voice cut through the unclear chatter. "How's Jessica? Is she alright?"
James's voice was dismissive. "The operation was successful, but her body's in awful condition. She'll suffer for the rest of her life."
I heard my mom exhale in relief. "As long as she's alive...
that's all that matters." Then her tone shifted, as if she'd suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, Mrs. Whitmore," she said, addressing the neighbor, "she's always longed for a mother. I'm returning her to you now. You must take good care of her!"
Mrs. Whitmore didn't have a chance to respond.
Abruptly, I began coughing violently, blood pouring from my mouth in uncontrollable streams.
The nearby nurse froze in shock, dropping her instruments as she stumbled backward.
Panic engulfed the room. The nurse scrambled to her feet, tripping as she rushed to the door and yelled at the top of her lungs: "Doctor, emergency! The patient's hemorrhaging!"
"And... and there are signs of infection!"
The moment she uttered those words, James whirled around in panic. He dashed back into the room, shouting my name as he ran.
But my vision was rapidly fading. My pupils were dilating, the world around me growing dimmer and more distant.
Outside, I heard my mom trying to push past those restraining her, her voice quivering with fear. "What's happening? What's wrong with her?"
The chaos in the room was overwhelming, and amidst it all, a lab nurse entered, holding an envelope.
She seemed entirely unaware of the scene, her voice cheerful as she announced, "Congratulations! The DNA test results are in—these two are confirmed to be mother and daughter!"