I never told my husband’s mistress that I was the renowned plastic surgeon she booked a consultation with. She didn’t recognize me in my mask and scrubs. She pointed to a photo of me on her phone and said, “I want to look better than this hag my boyfriend is married to. Make me younger so he finally dumps her.” I simply smiled behind my mask and nodded. The surgery was a masterpiece. She believed she was waking up with a face that would make me weep with envy. But when the final bandage was peeled away, her face went pale. She screamed in horror, dropping the mirror to the floor. I hadn’t made her younger. I had used my scalpel to carve her into an exact, permanent replica of…

Lila ran to him.

He recoiled.

“Why does she look like you?” he whispered.

“She wanted to replace me,” I said calmly.
“I facilitated that.”

“Fix it!” he shouted.

“I can’t,” I replied.
“Bone was removed. This is permanent.”

Lila collapsed, sobbing.

“I made you me,” I said.
“According to you, that wasn’t enough.”

I placed the signed consent forms and payment record on the bed.

“I filed for divorce this morning.”

I paused at the door.

“You can have her.
Imagine waking up to my face every day, remembering what you destroyed.”

He slid down the wall, unable to look at her.

Chapter 6: The Other Woman

I stepped into the sun and breathed.

I cut my hair platinum.
Bought leather and silk.

Six months later, I sat in Paris, sipping espresso.

Rumors said Lila hid from mirrors.
Thomas drank alone.

A man complimented my look.

I smiled — genuinely.

“It’s one of a kind,” I said.

Stirring my coffee, I caught my reflection.

I nodded goodbye.

She belonged to someone else now.