“Queenie doesn’t like seeing Natalie dance. She’ll only be happy once Natalie is completely crippled. And if that makes her smile, I’ll do whatever it takes—I don’t care how much blood gets on my hands.”
Luke paused for a moment, then continued, “Perhaps it’s for the best if she loses her legs. That way, she won’t turn out like her mother in the future—throwing herself at any man who crosses her path. If she behaves, I might consider keeping her around. Like a pet.”
Harvey knew there was no changing Luke’s mind. With a heavy sigh, he motioned for the doctors to come in. The wheels of the gurney rattled against the floor as they pushed me toward the operating room.
I wanted to scream and fight, but the icy anesthesia seeped into my veins and pulled me under.
Somewhere in the haze, I heard Luke’s assistant, Michael Judd, talk. “Mr. Quinton, the driver and his family have been sent to Meldora. Just as you instructed, we gave them five million dollars. They’ll never show their faces in front of Ms. Johnson again.”
“Good,” Luke said before turning to Harvey. “One more thing—Natalie always cared about her looks. Make sure the amputation is clean. I don’t want her waking up and being upset over an ugly scar.”
