Chapter 3
He didn't buy it; instead, he lashed out.
"Jeanette, seriously? Is it that big of a deal? She's my sister—I have to save her.
"If my own kidney was a match, you think I'd even consider yours?
"But I've checked so many people, and yours is the best fit.
"Relax, it's a simple surgery. I won't let anything happen to you.
"I'll ensure you get the best drugs and the top medical team."
I explained that I only had one kidney to begin with.
That giving it up would kill me.
But his response?
"Jeanette, how low can you go, lying just to avoid donating to Rebecca?
"The tests came back clear—you're in perfect health."
I had no idea why the report didn't flag any problems, but I was sure Rebecca was behind it somehow.
"If it weren't for you, would Rebecca have gotten this sick in the first place? You owe her this—you have to pay her back."
I knew it.
No matter what I said, he wasn't going to listen.
He even pinned Rebecca's illness on me.
All because she fled the country on our wedding day.
And shortly after returning, she was hit with chronic kidney failure.
Justin was convinced I'd driven her away.
That she'd endured hardships abroad because of me, and that was what made her ill.
Right before our wedding.
Rumors about him and Rebecca were swirling everywhere.
As the Madden family's adopted daughter, she was no secret.
People whispered that she'd been groomed as his childhood bride.
That the real match for Justin was his lifelong sweetheart, Rebecca.
Not some outsider like me, who only landed the marriage through family connections.
I was painted as the homewrecker who ruined their fairy-tale ending.
And Justin? He never bothered to set the record straight.
Yet he was the one who'd pursued the marriage in the first place.
I could've said no.
I'd been secretly in love with him for seven years.
When I learned he'd approached my parents to ask for my hand.
It felt like a dream came true.
My heart melted completely.
After all that, I became jaded, giving up on any illusions about us.
But discovering I was pregnant reignited a tiny spark of hope.
I decided to test him, asking, "If I was pregnant with our child, would you still force me to donate?"
His reply shattered me, sending me into an endless void.
"Jeanette, why do you have to be so selfish?
"I've already told you—Rebecca's running out of time.
"I know you've always dreamed of having a baby. Let's try for one after the donation, alright?"
When had starting a family turned into some kind of trade-off?
I couldn't wrap my head around how far he'd bend for Rebecca.
I didn't recall how I even got out of there that day.
All I remembered was the feeling—like a thousand ants gnawing at my heart.
The agony was overwhelming.
But just when I'd steeled myself to pack my things and sneak away—to keep the baby in my belly safe—his goons caught me, drugged me unconscious, and hauled me straight to the hospital.
When I came to, I was already strapped to the operating table.
I touched my now-flat stomach, where my little one had once been growing.
But now he was gone. And in a way, so was I.
Staring down the empty hallway, I started laughing.
Laughed until tears streamed down my cheeks.
My soul drifted aimlessly around the operating room.
I watched helplessly as they wheeled my body out and into the ICU.
I hadn't actually died; I'd turned into a vegetable, completely lifeless.
Sustained only by expensive drugs and dialysis machines.
I had no clue where to head or what to do.
Then, out of nowhere, a brutal wave of dizziness hit me.
I was pulled straight to Justin's side.
In her hospital room, Justin was holding a bowl of oatmeal, carefully spooning it to Rebecca one bite at a time.
His movements were so gentle, his eyes brimming with doting affection.
I hovered quietly nearby, my heart twisting like a knife in my chest.
That tenderness—it had once been reserved for me. Now it all went to another woman.
"Justin, how's Jeanette doing? Is she okay?" she asked, feigning concern.
Justin's hands trembled slightly, his forehead creasing as if my name alone was taboo.
"Why bring her up? No need to worry—she's fine. She's always been a survivor, after all." His tone was frigid.
A sour burn stung my nose, and I struggled to choke back the tears.
Just then, a young nurse rushed in.
"Mr. Madden, Ms. Mcneil's not looking good. We might need your sign-off for another surgery." Her voice quivered with anxiety.
See? Even a stranger hesitated to mention me around you.
Justin's body stiffened for a moment, but he composed himself fast.