Marrying His Rival: The Jilted Wife's Sweet Revenge
"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option."
I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs.
I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world.
"Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution."
For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love.
Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts.
"She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop."
"She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this."
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress.
I was pregnant.
And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor.
He was killing his own child to save his mistress.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts.
I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream.
I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach.
He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up?
I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave.
I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground.
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Chapter 6
Ava Miller POV
Ethan called me fourteen times in the hour after I left the lawyer's office.
I sat in the passenger seat of Ben’s car, my phone vibrating against my thigh like a trapped insect. I watched the notifications light up my screen.
*Ethan: We need to talk.*
*Ethan: You’re being irrational.*
*Ethan: Pick up the damn phone.*
"Do you want me to block him?" Ben asked, glancing at me with a tight, worried expression.
"No," I said, my finger hovering over the screen. "I want the pleasure of doing it myself."
I opened his contact. I scrolled past ten years of messages—grocery lists, flight details, the occasional, obligatory 'happy birthday' text. There was no love there. Just logistics.
I hit *Block Caller*.
Then I did the same for his email, his Instagram, his LinkedIn. I erased him from my digital existence.
Silence.
It was the loudest sound I had ever heard.
"Where to?" Ben asked quietly.
"The airport," I said. "I have a flight to Austin in three hours."
"Austin?" Ben frowned, merging onto the avenue. "Why Austin?"
"Because he hates Texas. He'll never look for me there."
But Ethan wasn't done.
When Ben pulled up to the curb of my apartment building—the temporary one I’d rented under my maiden name—Ethan was already there. He was pacing in front of the lobby doors, shoulders hunched, looking like a caged tiger.
"Drive," I told Ben, panic spiking in my chest. "Don't stop."
"Ava, he sees us," Ben said, instinctively slowing down.
Ethan spotted the car. He sprinted toward us, banging his fist on the passenger window with a violence that shook the glass.
"Open the door!" he shouted. "Ava! Open this door!"
I rolled down the window an inch. "Go away, Ethan. It's over."
"It's not over until I say it's over!" He grabbed the door handle, trying to wrench it open against the lock. "You can't just leave! What about the company? What about our image?"
"Your image," I corrected, my voice trembling but hard. "I don't care about your image."
He stopped pulling. His face crumpled. Tears—actual tears—welled up in his eyes. "Ava, please. I... I can't do this without you. I'm sorry about the gala. I'm sorry about everything. Just come home. We can fix this."
For a second, just a heartbeat, my chest tightened. He looked like the man I had fallen in love with. Vulnerable. Desperate.
Then I remembered the herbal supplements. The check on the table. The push off the stage.
"You're not sorry you hurt me," I said, my voice cold. "You're sorry you lost your control."
"I'll give you anything!" he pleaded, pressing his palms against the glass. "Shares? A seat on the board? Name it!"
"I want my kidney," I said.
He froze. His eyes widened. "What?"
"You heard me. You were going to steal it. So unless you can give me a guarantee that my body is mine, get away from this car."
He stepped back as if slapped. "I... it wasn't stealing. It was saving a life."
"Goodbye, Ethan."
"Go," I told Ben.
We sped away. I watched him shrink in the side mirror, a small, pathetic figure on the sidewalk, until we turned the corner and he was gone.
*
Two hours later, I was sitting at the gate, waiting to board. My leg throbbed in time with my pulse.
My phone buzzed. It was an anonymous message.
*Image Attachment.*
I opened it. It was a medical report. A pathology report from St. Jude’s Hospital.
*Patient: Chloe Miller. Procedure: Renal Transplant. Donor: Anonymous.*
The date was tomorrow.
My stomach dropped through the floor. *Anonymous.*
Then another text came through. From Ben.
*Ava. Don't get on the plane. I just found out something. Ethan didn't just plan to take the kidney. He forged your consent forms this morning. They are coming for you.*
I stood up, my crutches clattering to the floor with a deafening noise.
"No," I whispered.
I grabbed my bag and ran—hobbled—toward the exit. I couldn't be trapped in a metal tube in the sky.
I made it to the curb, gasping for air. A black SUV pulled up sharply, blocking my path. The window rolled down.
It was Ethan.
"Get in," he said. His voice wasn't pleading anymore. It was dead calm.
"No!" I backed away.
Two men in suits got out of the back seat. I recognized them. His private security details. Muscle for hire.
"Ethan, don't do this!" Ben’s voice rang out. He had followed me. He parked his car haphazardly at an angle and ran toward us.
"Stay out of this, Ben," Ethan warned, not even looking at him.
"You can't just take her organ!" Ben shouted, causing people on the sidewalk to stop and stare. "It's illegal! It's insane!"
"It's necessary!" Ethan yelled back, his facade cracking. "Chloe is dying! Ava is the only match! She's my wife, she owes me this!"
*She owes me this.*
The words echoed in my head.
Then the back door of the SUV opened. Chloe stepped out. She didn't look like she was dying. She looked glowing, radiant in a designer coat.
"My kidney is very healthy," she said, looking directly at me with a predator's smile. "Thank you for the donation, Ava. Though, honestly, I deserve it more. It’s not like you were doing anything with your life anyway."
The world tilted on its axis.
"You..." I gasped, clutching my chest. "You're not even sick."
Chloe laughed, a light, tinkling sound that made my blood run cold. "Oh, I was sick. But not *that* sick. We just needed to make sure you were... available. And compliant."
"You monster," I screamed at Ethan. "You stole my kidney?!"
Wait. I looked down at my side. I still had my kidney. The surgery was scheduled for *tomorrow*.
"Not yet," Ethan said, stepping out of the car. He walked toward me, closing the distance. "But you're coming with us. Now."
"You think I'll love a cripple?" Chloe sneered at me. "Ethan needs a whole woman. Not a hollow shell."
Panic, raw and primal, flooded my veins. I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred at the edges.
"I'm not going with you!" I screamed. "Help! Someone help!"
People were looking, but no one moved. They saw the suits. They saw the expensive car. It was a domestic dispute. Rich people arguing. None of their business.
Ethan grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Stop making a scene, Ava. It's for the best."
I looked into his eyes. There was no love there. No regret. Just entitlement.
I stopped struggling. My body went limp.
"Fine," I whispered.
Ethan relaxed his grip slightly. "Good girl."
I looked at Ben over Ethan’s shoulder. I mouthed one word.
*Run.*
Then I brought my crutch down as hard as I could on Ethan’s foot. He howled in pain and let go.
I didn't run to Ben. I didn't run to safety. I ran straight into the moving traffic of the airport drop-off lane.
Tires screeched. A horn blared like a siren.
I didn't care. Anything was better than getting in that car.