{"id":26734,"date":"2026-01-17T13:46:28","date_gmt":"2026-01-17T13:46:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readmore.cx\/?p=26734"},"modified":"2026-01-17T13:46:28","modified_gmt":"2026-01-17T13:46:28","slug":"i-never-told-my-husbands-mistress-that-i-was-the-renowned-plastic-surgeon-she-booked-a-consultation-with-she-didnt-recognize-me-in-my-mask-and-scrubs-she-pointed-to-a-photo-of-me-o","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readmore.cx\/?p=26734","title":{"rendered":"I never told my husband\u2019s mistress that I was the renowned plastic surgeon she booked a consultation with. She didn\u2019t recognize me in my mask and scrubs. She pointed to a photo of me on her phone and said, \u201cI want to look better than this hag my boyfriend is married to. Make me younger so he finally dumps her.\u201d 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\u2019t made her younger. I had used my scalpel to carve her into an exact, permanent replica of\u2026"},"content":{"rendered":"

Chapter 1: The Consultation of Narcissus<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cI want to look better than this hag my boyfriend is married to.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

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The words hung in the sterile air of my clinic, sharp and cold as a scalpel. She didn\u2019t know that the face she was mocking was the same one hidden behind my surgical mask, and that by the time I was finished, she wouldn\u2019t just look like the hag\u2014she would become her.<\/span><\/p>\n

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The\u00a0<\/span>Vance Institute<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0in Beverly Hills was a temple of white marble and hushed whispers. It smelled of eucalyptus and money, a scent designed to make you forget the blood that paid for it. I sat behind my glass desk, fully scrubbed in\u2014blue cap covering my hair, N95 mask concealing my nose and mouth, surgical loops magnifying my eyes. To the world, I was Dr. Evelyn Vance, the \u201cSculptor of the Stars.\u201d To the girl sitting across from me, I was just a pair of hands holding the keys to her vanity.<\/span><\/p>\n

Chloe<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0was twenty-two, blonde, and radiated the kind of entitlement that usually comes with a trust fund, though her cheap shoes told a different story. She tossed her phone onto the desk with a clatter.<\/span><\/p>\n

The screen lit up. It showed a candid photo of a woman in a garden. She was wearing no makeup, her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she looked exhausted.<\/span><\/p>\n

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It was me.<\/span><\/p>\n

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Chapter 1: The Consultation of Narcissus \u201cI want to look better than this hag my boyfriend is married to.\u201d The words hung in the sterile air of my clinic, sharp and cold as a scalpel. She didn\u2019t know that the face she was mocking was the same one hidden behind my surgical mask, and that…<\/p>\n

Read More “I never told my husband\u2019s mistress that I was the renowned plastic surgeon she booked a consultation with. She didn\u2019t recognize me in my mask and scrubs. She pointed to a photo of me on her phone and said, \u201cI want to look better than this hag my boyfriend is married to. Make me younger so he finally dumps her.\u201d 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\u2019t made her younger. I had used my scalpel to carve her into an exact, permanent replica of\u2026”<\/span> »<\/a><\/p>\n

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