Reborn to be Truly Loved

Emily shot a resentful glare at Charlotte, then tugged at Eric's sleeve, her voice laced with a hint of tears. "Eric, my stomach hurts…"

Panic flickered visibly across Eric's face. Without hesitation, he scooped Emily up gently in his arms and rushed her into the obstetrics department.

Inside Charlotte's mind, the system's voice chimed in urgently. [Host, why didn't you tell him you have cancer?]

'I'm worried it'll complicate things and hinder my plans to leave,' she replied calmly. 'Besides, I want to restore my face before I go.'

Wasting no time, Charlotte booked an appointment with the same clinic where she had undergone her original plastic surgery. She made it clear that her request was to reverse the alterations and return to her natural appearance.

"You've finally come around," Dr. Jim Sagal remarked when he saw her. "I told you back then not to do it, but you were stubborn."

Charlotte offered a faint smile but didn't respond.

Dr. Jim studied her expression. "No need to type. I've learned sign language since then—it's more interesting than I thought."

Her eyes lit up at his words, and she quickly used sign language to outline her request: remove all the implants, minimize the incisions, and ensure a swift recovery.

He nodded, observing her silently. Seven years ago, he had known Charlotte as the true heiress of the Spencer family, later becoming Mrs. Lorvis. He had also heard that it was Eric who pressured her into reshaping herself to resemble the Spencer family's fake heiress. The irony had not escaped him then, and it didn't now.

She had been his only patient out of thousands who insisted on making herself less attractive—a decision he hadn't been able to dissuade. Now, it seemed, she had finally awakened.

On the fifteenth day before the end of her mission, Charlotte returned to the Lorvis family home to pack her belongings. Her surgery was scheduled for the next day, and Dr. Jim had informed her that she would need at least a week in the hospital to recover.

Determined, she packed swiftly and contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers.

She had made up her mind. If she was going to see Meghan again, she needed to sever every tie to the life she despised.

As she stepped out of the house with her suitcase, she ran into Eric at the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice sharp.

She handed him a note she had prepared in advance. "I'm going to the hospital to take care of the orphanage director. I want to spend one more week with her."

Eric frowned, his first thought being that she was still upset with him. After a pause, he pulled a bracelet from his pocket—a dazzling piece that was unmistakably expensive.

"This is for you. Don't be mad anymore, okay?"

Charlotte's brows knitted in confusion. This was the first time he had ever spoken to her in a conciliatory tone while giving her a gift. In the past, he had tossed things at her casually, often laced with disdain.

Before she could react, Brian walked in, his gaze landing on the bracelet. His mouth fell open.

"Eric, don't tell me that's the bracelet you spent 5 million on at yesterday's auction? Weren't you going to give it to Emily?"

At that moment, Emily entered the scene, her shy smile directed at Eric.

Charlotte said nothing, and Eric's face twisted in discomfort. Yet he still turned and handed the bracelet to Emily, avoiding Charlotte's gaze as though afraid of seeing disapproval in her expression.

But Charlotte didn't care. She had long understood that Eric's heart belonged to Emily. The lavish gifts sent overseas every year were a testament to that, while the items he gave her could be counted on one hand.

The surgery was over in what felt like the blink of an eye. Thanks to the anesthesia, Charlotte experienced it as nothing more than a long nap. When she woke, she felt the bandages on her nose and chin. They didn't look as unsettling as they had after her first surgery, but her body was noticeably weaker.

The persistent coughs and searing pain in her chest were getting worse. Even Dr. Jim seemed concerned.

"Are you sick? Should I take you to the hospital for a check-up?"

Charlotte looked at him, a man she considered one of the few decent people in this world. She didn't use sign language this time, opting instead to type out a long message on her phone.

"I won't lie to you. I am sick. When I die, I'll need you to help me with one thing—cremate my body and scatter my ashes in the sea. I hate this world, but I have no choice but to stay in it for now…"

Jim froze, the weight of her words sinking in. He hadn't expected the young woman before him, whom he remembered as radiant and full of life at twenty, to be facing the end.

"I promise," he said softly.