On the day of Zoran's pharmaceutical company's IPO, I was back in the hospital for another skin graft due to an infected ulceration on my burn-injured face, as I couldn't afford treatment.
Zoran video called me: "How does it feel to be abandoned now, after choosing a wealthy heir Elias for money back then?"
He noticed I was in the hospital: "What are you getting fixed this time? You plastic surgery freak."
I forced a laugh through the pain: "Mr. Carlisle, this time I'm hoping for a skin transplant."
He scoffed and hung up.
But what he didn't know was that I wasn't there for plastic surgery.
Three years ago, in that fire, I traded half my face to save his life.