The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

Mr. Burton let out a heavy sigh. "Alright."

Strictly speaking, the news about Stella shouldn't be told to her first—it should go

to her family. But in the room, everyone present was a friend. As for Haynes...

well, he was more of an ex-husband now, hardly family anymore.

To keep it from Stella, in front of all her friends, felt almost disrespectful. He

sighed again. "Alright," he said.

If Mr. Burton said he could save someone, he could. If he said there was no hope,

then there really was none.

He turned to Stella, his voice gentle but grave. "Stella, the best I can promise is

that your hands will look normal again—the bones will set properly, and you

shouldn't feel pain when it rains. In your daily life, no one will even notice

anything's wrong. You'll be able to work and live as usual. But..."

He paused, exhaling deeply, the weight of it all clear on his face.

"Your fingers won't be as nimble as they once were. Playing music will be very

difficult. Even painting will be affected. Especially... your left hand."

Stella had smashed her own right hand—she'd stopped short of destroying it

least some use. But her left

himself. The damage was so severe it was nearly

hadn't been for Mr. Burton

left with permanent, crippling

started falling again. Star was so gifted, a

than even Harry, the celebrated

in her

future—her lifelong passion—had been destroyed. It

worse than death.

instinctively

her face pale, but she managed

turned to Mr. Burton. "Thank you, Mr. Burton. I'll

looked at her with deep regret. Such

surgery, the better," he said

we can operate first thing

like Stella's

and a

preparation. Tomorrow morning

was the earliest possible.

left the

turned to Haynes and the others. "Could you

me a moment

They quietly filed out.

the bed, voice

don't blame yourself."

gently.

we need

should be