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After the Hundredth Loss, My Fiancé Went Mad With Regret Novel Cover

After the Hundredth Loss, My Fiancé Went Mad With Regret

For years, she endured ninety-nine agonizing surgeries under the belief that a system would return her to her true home. Armed with a unique regenerative ability, she tolerated her fiancé Mr. Farley's brutal experiments. But on the eve of the hundredth operation, the horrific truth is revealed: the parallel world and system were merely a hypnotic illusion. Farley sacrificed her body so his student, Maisie, could practice anatomy. Now, they plan to remove her brain—the one organ she cannot regenerate.
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Chapter 2

I twisted with everything I had, refusing to cooperate.

"Maisie Henson, you're not even a real surgeon!"

"Forget that you've never done a craniotomy in your life. For three years you kept forgetting to sterilize the scalpel. Do you have any idea how many times you infected me?"

"You're a lab tool. Why would I bother sterilizing anything for you?"

Maisie snatched the syringe out of the nurse's hand, impatient. "If she doesn't want the anesthetic, then we'll operate with her awake."

The doctor hesitated. "Without anesthesia, the pain will kill her."

"She won't actually die anyway. This is a perfect chance to observe how a conscious subject reacts to having her brain removed."

She tugged at the hem of Nigel Farley's shirt, her voice going soft. "Nigel, an opportunity like this doesn't come often. You'll say yes, won't you?"

He glanced at me, then looked away just as fast.

"Whatever you want."

The last thread inside me finally snapped.

Cold metal pressed against my skull.

My head was locked into the surgical frame, unable to move.

At the end of my life, I felt myself go strangely calm.

"Nigel Farley, for the sake of all the years we've known each other, after I'm dead, bury me next to Dolly."

Dolly was our unborn daughter.

"You still have the nerve to bring up Dolly?"

His lips pressed into a hard line, his voice turning cold. "The baby died because you didn't respect yourself."

"I never brought it up afterward, but that doesn't mean I didn't care."

I stared at him, unable to believe it. "Nigel Farley, what are you talking about?"

Maisie's hands stopped mid-preparation.

"Faith Fox, how are you even able to say that? Five years ago Nigel was kidnapped on his birthday. If I hadn't gotten there in time, they'd have killed him!"

"And you? While he was hanging between life and death, you ran off to a bar to mess around with a bunch of men, and partied until you miscarried a baby that was already eight months along."

"You've never once repented for that. What right do you have to yell at him?"

The more she said, the more worked up she got, her expression like she wanted to kill me.

Nigel gripped her wrist. "That's enough. Don't make yourself sick. Just do the surgery."

I felt the high-frequency electric knife move across the top of my head, clear as anything.

The sound of searing skin left my whole body numb.

It hurt so much.

I couldn't move. All I could do was clench my teeth.

The smell of charred flesh crawled into my nose, and my mind began to blur.

Five years ago, on his birthday, Nigel Farley was taken by a rival.

I was the one who found him, using the tracker he'd installed in my phone himself.

To buy time, I had my subordinate carry him out first while he was unconscious, then locked myself inside the warehouse and let them take me instead.

Pregnant, I was beaten and abused by the kidnappers until death would have been a mercy.

I barely managed to escape, and collapsed at last outside a bar.

When I woke again, I was in the ICU.

Nigel was badly hurt too, his bandages not even off yet, and still he sat with me in silence for three days and three nights.

After we were discharged, he never mentioned it again.

He was still gentle with me, but he would never touch me again.

I thought it was guilt and grief over the baby, so I never dared bring it up either.

To save him, I lost my child and nearly threw away my own life, and all I got in return was one line from him: that I hadn't respected myself.

The pain in my skull grew sharper, cutting through my thoughts.

The top of my head was cut fully open and held apart with a retractor.

Before I could adjust to that pulling sensation, the drill started up.

Maisie's hands were clumsy. The bit kept slipping off its mark, testing back and forth in one spot three times before it finally bit in.

Powder sprayed everywhere, much of it sticking to my face.

Cold sweat soaked through the sheet beneath me, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. I cried out.

"Maisie, stop for a second."

It was Nigel Farley's voice.

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