My Lawyer Boyfriend Defended the Man Who Took My Scalpel

Erwin looked as if he had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.

Hearing his firm, unequivocal promise, the nerves that had been stretched to their limit finally eased just a little.

I sent a message to my senior.

[The lawyer has already met with me. Everything’s been arranged very carefully.]

[Senior, thank you. Truly.]

It took a while before he replied.

I was staring blankly at my screen when my phone suddenly vibrated.

He was calling me directly.

“You’ve met Erwin already?” he asked.

His voice was as calm as ever, but there was noticeably less distance in it than usual.

“Yeah.”

I nodded instinctively, then realized he couldn’t see me and added softly, “He’s very professional. And he’s been very considerate.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

“That’s good,” he said at last.

Something about the way he said those three words felt… off.

“For now, just cooperate with the process. Don’t overthink it,” he continued.

“I’ll take care of the rest.”

My throat tightened.

“Senior, you’ve already helped me so much—”

“I—”

“Tara.”

He cut me off, but his tone wasn’t harsh. “Don’t rush to thank me.”

“Just get through this stretch first.”

“When I finish dealing with what I have on hand, I’ll come find you.”

He said it naturally, calmly—but with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

I fell silent for a moment before answering quietly.

“Okay.”

After the call ended, I had no idea that almost at the same time, another call was being placed.

My senior stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, his expression dark and heavy. Neon lights from outside reflected faintly in his eyes, yet not a trace of warmth remained.

“Erwin.”

The moment the call connected, he said his name outright.

No pleasantries. No preamble.

“I’m warning you,” he said coldly. “Don’t entertain thoughts you shouldn’t have about her.”

A low chuckle came from the other end.

“You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?” Erwin replied lazily. “I haven’t done anything.”

“She’s not someone you get to toy with,” my senior said, his voice turning icy, every word steady and deliberate.

“She’s mine.”

There was a two-second silence on the line.

Then came a soft, ambiguous laugh.

“Understood.”

The response was perfunctory, almost entirely devoid of sincerity.

“Relax. I know my limits.”

Before another word could be said, the call was already disconnected.

At the far end of the corridor, my figure disappeared around the corner.

Erwin put his phone away, slid one hand into his pocket, and stood there watching for a moment.

The curve of his lips was lazy—yet dangerous.

As if he hadn’t taken that warning seriously at all.

When I returned to the hospital room, the tension in my mind snapped tight.

Randall and Samantha were standing by my brother’s bed, doing something I couldn’t quite see.

Almost instinctively, I quickened my pace and stepped between them and my brother. Hatred and vigilance surged up from deep inside me at the same time.

The moment Samantha saw me, a sweet smile bloomed on her face.

“Tara, thank you for being willing to withdraw the lawsuit,” she said softly.

Then, in a gentle tone that cut deeper than a knife, she added,

“You don’t have parents, so maybe you can’t really understand how important parents are to me.”

The words pierced straight into my chest like a needle.

“Oh, right,” she continued lightly. “Tara, the day after tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. Would you like to come over for dinner? We want to thank you properly in person.”

I swallowed down the metallic taste in my throat and rejected her coldly.

“No. My brother needs someone to take care of him.”

Samantha instinctively glanced at Randall, looking flustered and unsure.

Randall frowned and turned to me.

“Tara, there will be a caregiver to look after your brother. You don’t need to stay here all the time.”

“Samantha is my sister. Her family is essentially my family as well. This is a family dinner. It wouldn’t look good for you, as my fiancée, not to attend.”

I refused again, my tone decisive.

“We’re not married yet. I have no obligation to attend your family’s dinner.”

This time, the displeasure on his face finally slipped through before he could fully hide it.

He clearly hadn’t expected me—who had always been obedient—to push back against his arrangements.

After a brief pause, he softened his tone, as if assuming I was just being emotional.

“Since you’ve chosen to be my wife, you need to shoulder the responsibilities that come with that.”

“You have to attend this dinner. Otherwise, your brother’s treatment—”

I snapped my head up and stared at him.

This man I had once loved so deeply.

Even after being hurt so many times, I had still underestimated just how ruthless he could be.

To force me to submit, he was using my brother to threaten me again.

I still remembered how he used to tell me that as long as I didn’t want to, he would never force me to face his parents.

But with Randall, I would always come second to Samantha.

Thinking of the conversation I’d overheard not long ago in the obstetrics department, my mind suddenly shifted.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

I wanted to see for myself just how much filth the Hendershots and the Massrys were hiding beneath the surface.

Samantha’s birthday “family dinner” was ultimately held at the Hendershots’s mountain estate.

I sat at the very end of the long table, watching the two families laugh and exchange pleasantries, warm and familiar with one another.

To them, my tragedy—and my brother’s—were nothing more than idle table talk, incapable of stirring even the slightest emotional ripple.

My gaze swept over Randall’s father, then landed on Samantha’s mother.

And that was when I noticed their feet entwined beneath the table.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and let out a quiet, mocking laugh.

Just then, Jamey slowly lifted his wine glass, his smile thick and greasy.

“Come now, Miss Barnhart,” he said.

“Since we’re all sitting at the same table, there’s no need to keep such a long face.”

His gaze openly traveled over me before finally settling on my bandaged hand. There wasn’t a shred of remorse in his tone.

“Thank you for being sensible enough to withdraw the lawsuit.”

“At the end of the day, making a big fuss doesn’t look good for anyone.”

Catherine immediately followed up, her voice gentle and composed.

“That’s right, Tara. You’re educated—you understand reason. Forcing people into a corner doesn’t do your reputation any favors either.”

William also raised his glass and sighed.

“Child, you have to learn to look forward in life.”

“You’re not in great health right now. Clinging to these matters—what good does it do you?”

Jamey’s smile grew even more self-satisfied, his tone practically condescending.

“As for your hand, to be honest, you were just unlucky.”

“Young people need to suffer a little, so they learn who they can’t afford to offend.”

“Life can’t always go smoothly, can it?”

He extended his glass toward me, his tone firm and final.

“Come. Let’s have a toast.”

“Once you drink this, we’ll consider the matter settled.”