Daisie, who had been sitting closest to the table, hadn’t even had time to react. The boiling water had splashed directly onto her.
A sharp, searing pain spread across her skin, making her body tremble uncontrollably.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
Her sudden movement had violently torn at the surgical wound on her abdomen.
She could feel the warmth of her own blood gushing from the reopened incision, soaking through her hospital gown and the sheets beneath her.
The agony was unbearable. She curled in on herself, cold sweat breaking across her forehead, her lips drained of color.
Soon, several doctors and nurses rushed into the room.
“Mr. Grantham! Ms. Spender!”
“Hurry! Check her ankle! No scars, you hear me? Use the best medication you’ve got!”
Willard’s voice was urgent, his attention fixed entirely on Kendra despite the stinging pain in his own back.
With that, the medical staff swarmed around Kendra.
No one noticed Daisie.
No one saw the blood pooling beneath her, spreading wider and darker by the second.
Her vision began to blur.
She could hear their voices, Willard’s worried tone calling Kendra’s name again and again, but it was like listening from underwater.