My Sister Died on the Mistress' Operating Table

“Put that divorce agreement away,” Lucian snapped. “I won’t argue with you about this!”

I looked him straight in the eye, my face cold and unreadable.

“If you refuse to divorce me, I’ll hold you accountable — to the very end.”

My voice was calm, but each word was a blade.

“Did you really think that just because you secretly disposed of your sister’s body and deleted the surveillance footage, I can’t sue you?”

His expression froze, the color draining from his face.

Beside him, Ivy went pale as well, clutching at his sleeve nervously.

“Seraphine, you’re being completely unreasonable! You’re so annoying!” she burst out, her tone shrill.

Lucian’s face shifted between hesitation and anger before he finally exhaled, his eyes full of disgust.

“Fine. Isn’t this what you want?”

He snatched up the pen, scrawled his name on the divorce agreement, and slammed it down.

“See you tomorrow at nine. Civil Affairs Bureau.”

I gathered up the papers, the corners of my lips curling in a faint smile.

He grabbed Ivy’s hand and stormed out. Before leaving, he turned back with a sneer.

“Tomorrow, don’t come crawling back to me like a dog. I won’t take you back.”

I didn’t respond — I didn’t need to.

That night, I returned to my parents’ home and told them everything.

At first, they tried to talk me out of it. But when I told them what had really happened, their faces flushed with anger.

Lucian had always assumed my family needed him — that we were clinging to him.

But this only proved that if my family had truly been in trouble, he would have stepped on us without hesitation.

The next morning, I took the signed divorce agreement and prepared to head to the Civil Affairs Bureau.

But before I could leave, my in-laws arrived — carrying wreaths and paper money, as though they had come straight from a funeral.

We ran into each other at the door.

The moment she saw me, my mother-in-law launched into a tirade.

“Sera, how could you be so foolish? Asking Lucian for a divorce? You’re just a small-time businesswoman, while our Lucian is a doctor! You’ll regret this one day.

“Your father-in-law and I talked to him all night to calm him down. We finally convinced him to give up on the divorce. Call him and apologize!”

I stared at her coldly, almost laughing.

Did they really forget how their “surgical prodigy” son got where he is today?

It was my connections, my begging, my favors that got him into this hospital. My parents even swallowed their pride and asked an old friend to secure him advanced training at a top institution.

Everything he is today — every ounce of that so-called brilliance — was built on my family’s efforts.

And now they dared to tell me I wasn’t worthy of him?

“You’re just self-employed,” my mother-in-law continued, mistaking my silence for hesitation.

“Even if you have to quit your job, just stay home and give Lucian a child.

“Now that your sister is gone, you’re your parents’ only daughter. When they pass, everything will be yours — and you can leave it all to your children. Isn’t that better than working yourself to the bone?”

I felt fury rise like a tide in my chest.

So this was their dream — to have me chained to their son, handing over my family’s legacy like a dowry?

I laughed coldly. “The only people dying here are you — and your whole family!”

Before she could respond, my sister stormed out from the next room, wielding a broom like a weapon.

“You still have the nerve to come here?” she shouted, swinging the broom at them with all her strength.

My in-laws froze in shock, too stunned to dodge.

“You—how are you still alive?” my mother-in-law gasped, her face turning ashen.