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Chapter 2
Dr. Harris’s cosmetic clinic sat high in the priciest office tower in the financial district.
I sat in the VIP lounge, sipping tea.
The guy had done well for himself. His framed license grinned down from the wall–polished as the fraud he was.
“Well, well, look who finally showed up.” He walked in, lab coat unbuttoned. “Heard your husband picked up a little side piece?”
I tossed Michael’s receipt across the table. “Nineteen thousand eight hundred. From your clinic.”
Harris glanced at it, then burst out laughing. “Bella Rose? That TikTok girl?”
He flopped onto the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. “She came last week begging for the biggest size. Said her top gifter liked them that way.”
I took another sip of tea. “Didn’t you guys just bring in a batch of those… sound–effect implants?”
His smile froze.
He got up, quietly locked the door, and lowered his voice. “Lena, those were meant for special clients. Press on them, they squeak. Like
a toy.”
“I want a custom order,” I said, sliding my phone across to show Bella’s latest reel.
On screen, she was prancing for her followers, clucking into the mic: “Bawk bawk–keep the gifts coming, boys~”
Harris’s mouth twitched. “You’re insane. That’s malpractice!”
I pulled a folder from my bag, and flipped it open: a photocopy of the botched nose job he’d done on the mayor’s daughter five years ago -plus the recording of him begging me to make it go away.
“Old friend,” I said smoothly, “don’t you think the State Medical Board would find this… fascinating?”
His face went paper–white.
After a beat, he tugged at his tie and forced a laugh. “So… what size are we
talking?”
“The biggest you’ve got.” My smile turned razor–sharp.
“Wouldn’t want to shortchange that ‘true–love‘ pair.”
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