Chapter 15: Did You Want Him Dead?

The female doctor gently pressed Giselle Lambert’s kneecap. “It’s just a superficial wound. Care for it properly, change the dressing regularly, and it won’t cause any issues.” Giselle sighed with relief. “This might sting a bit. Try to bear with it.” The doctor efficiently began tending to the wound. Cleaning it was manageable, but disinfection was another story. As Giselle clenched her teeth and trembled, the sensation of the iodine-soaked cotton ball touching her raw flesh was akin to a blunt knife slicing through her. Despite the sharp pain, she didn’t utter a single cry. Henry Jefferson’s body bore countless scars, some from bullets that had embedded deep within his flesh, perilously close to his heart. In dire situations, he had endured bullet extractions without any anesthesia. A red-hot dagger was used to cruelly carve out the bullet casings. Even with his history of enduring pain, seeing Giselle wince made Henry's heart wrench painfully, as if a giant hand were tearing