After His Mistress Tried to Kill Me

The door pushed open. Colby walked in. He looked perfect. His navy suit wasn't wrinkled. His hair was neatly styled. He didn't look like a man whose girlfriend just survived a hit-and-run. He looked like a man walking into a board meeting.

In his right hand, he held a small, robin’s-egg blue box. Tiffany’s.

He pulled a plastic chair to the side of my bed and sat down. He didn’t ask how I felt. He didn’t look at the dark purple bruises blooming on my arms. He just looked at my face.

“Evie,” he said smoothly. “We need to talk.”

I didn’t say a word. I just watched him. My heartbeat was flat and steady on the monitor beside me.

He set the blue box on the edge of my mattress and flipped the lid open. A large diamond caught the harsh fluorescent light. It sparkled brightly. It looked incredibly out of place next to my plastic IV tubes and blood-stained gown.

“Marry me,” Colby said. His voice was calm. It didn’t tremble with emotion or fear.

I stared at the ring. Then I looked into his eyes. They were completely flat. There was no love in them. Just a calculated need.

“Thalia’s condition took a turn,” he continued. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’s failing, Evie. She needs a transplant right now. I know you’re a match. If you give her your kidney, I will make sure you have the best medical team in the world. I’ll marry you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

He said it like a business deal. Like he was offering me a generous severance package. Trade a piece of my body for a ring. Trade my health for his guilt.

My chest didn’t ache anymore. The bubbles of excitement I used to feel whenever he looked at me were dead. I felt nothing but a cold, hard hollow inside my ribs. Eight years of loving him turned to ash in a matter of seconds.

“No,” I said. My voice was raspy, but it didn't shake.

Colby frowned. A tiny crease appeared between his brows. He looked genuinely confused. “Evie, be reasonable. You only need one kidney to live. Thalia has none. I’m offering you everything you’ve always wanted.”

“I said no, Colby.” I turned my head away and looked at the blank white wall. “We are done. Take your ring and get out.”

He let out a short, frustrated breath. He stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. He looked down at me like I was a stubborn child throwing a tantrum.

“You’re in shock from the accident. You aren’t thinking straight,” he said firmly. “I’m going to leave this here.”

He picked up the blue box and placed it on the metal bedside table. It made a sharp click against the steel.

“I’ll give you some time to calm down,” he added. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

His heavy footsteps echoed as he walked out. The door clicked shut behind him. I didn't turn my head. I didn't touch the ring. I just closed my eyes and breathed in the sharp smell of bleach.

An hour later, the door swung open again. It hit the wall with a loud thud.

Jasmine stormed into the room. Her trench coat was soaked with rain. Her dark hair stuck to her wet cheeks. She rushed straight to my bed, her eyes scanning the bandages, the IV, the monitors.

“Evie,” she breathed. Her hands hovered over me, afraid to touch my bruised skin. “The hospital called me. I came straight from the office.”

“I’m okay, Jas,” I whispered.

Jasmine let out a shaky breath and sat in the chair Colby had just left. Then, her eyes fell on the metal table. She saw the little blue box. The lid was still open. The diamond stared back at her.

She looked from the ring to my face. Her dark eyes narrowed. She knew me too well. She saw the dead, empty look in my eyes.

“What did he do?” Jasmine asked. Her voice dropped an octave.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt like sandpaper. “He asked Dr. Hale if he could harvest my kidney for Thalia.”

Jasmine froze. Her whole body went completely still.

“Dr. Hale said no,” I continued, my voice flat. “So Colby came in here. He gave me that ring. He said if I gave Thalia my kidney, he would marry me and take care of me forever.”

Jasmine didn’t gasp. She didn’t cry. She just stared at the blank wall. I watched her hands slowly curl into tight fists on her lap. Her knuckles turned stark white. The skin around her mouth tightened until her lips were a thin, hard line.

She reached out and gently held my unbruised hand. Her grip was warm and fiercely strong.

With her free hand, she pulled her phone from her wet coat pocket. She unlocked the screen and dialed a number. She put the phone to her ear.

“Sean,” Jasmine said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. It was the voice of a woman drawing a weapon. “Drop whatever case you’re working on right now. We need everything you can find on Thalia Guzman. London, New York, everywhere. I want her completely destroyed.”

She hung up the phone and looked back at me. Her eyes burned with a fierce, protective fire.

“You’re done with him, right?” she asked quietly.

“I’m done,” I said.

Jasmine nodded once. “Good. Now we fight.”