Amanda Smith, who had been motionless, finally lifted her head slowly. She bit her lips tightly and gazed at Samuel Johnson's ruthless back. After a long time, as though wounded by his silhouette, she diverted her eyes.
Her face was in pain, but even more painful was her heart, beating incessantly within her chest.
She had thought that after enduring for over a decade, she would have grown accustomed to it; however, the hurt inflicted by the one she loved still made her grind her teeth in agony.
"Samuel, I'm leaving now," she said softly, head bowed, speaking to Samuel Johnson's indifferent and merciless back.
The man, as if he hadn't heard her, didn't move an inch.
He truly hated her to death...
Amanda Smith closed her eyes and laughed helplessly.
If it weren't for deep love, who would subject themselves to be trampled underfoot?
But after so long... why couldn't she still warm his heart?
Amanda Smith opened her eyes and gazed at his retreating figure, feeling a slow throb of pain in her heart.
************************************
Only after Amanda Smith had left did Samuel Johnson turn around.
Not far away, a shallow puddle of blood from Amanda Smith's injury was left on the pristine white tiles.
The light in the hallway outside the operating room was dim, making the color of the blood seem all the more glaring.
Samuel Johnson furrowed his brows, his palm still burning with pain, and thought of Amanda Smith, who had been slapped by him. How much must she be hurting?
And so much blood had been lost...
His heart clenched slightly, a sense of discomfort rising as the image of Amanda Smith's pale face as she left replayed in his mind.
It seemed like she was badly hurt...
She...
Damn, why do I keep thinking about that woman!
Samuel Johnson slapped his forehead, trying hard to cast off that inexplicable shadow.
"Click."
The door to the operating room opened, and Samuel Johnson's attention was immediately drawn. Tasha Moore was wheeled out by the nurses. The surgery had been a minor one, taking less than an hour. She was no longer anesthetized and upon seeing Samuel, a smile appeared on her pale face: "Samuel!"
"Shh, don't talk," Samuel Johnson said as he looked at Tasha Moore's face, thinking to himself how beautiful she was, just like a rose. Even entering the operating room with a pale face, she still radiated an appealing charm. Not like Amanda Smith, ugly, and on top of that, doing shameless acts every day, ugly on the outside and evil at heart!
Tasha Moore was taken to her hospital room, feeling very happy as she looked at Samuel Johnson.
Samuel Johnson was handsome and came from a good family. Such a proud and willful young master was willing to go out of his way to buy and bring her food, treating her better than any other man she had dated.
Even the dress she was wearing was his gift to her.
She knew the brand of the dress, handcrafted in Italy, priceless and hard to find. The designer was also notoriously difficult. It was said that the waiting list for her designs stretched out several years. And here was Samuel Johnson, a noble young master, pleading with that prickly designer just for her. If not for his affection, would he have done such a thing?
Indeed, a reformed rascal is worth his weight in gold. For him to do such things for her was far more attractive than those men who groveled at her feet trying to win her favor.