My Husband Traded Marriage For Bone Marrow

After being kidnapped, my fiancé, Conner, chose not to pay the ransom. He wanted to save the money for the medical treatment of his childhood sweetheart, Kayla, who was gravely ill. I endured endless humiliation and abuse from my captors. When I finally escaped, Conner looked at my broken body with contempt, telling me I should just go and die. On that day, I slit my wrist. Blood spread like fireworks. I laughed and told Conner, "I was the one who agreed to donate my bone marrow to Kayla, only to vanish on the day of the transplant."

The night I escaped back into the city, I felt like a stray dog, crouched beside a garbage bin. Ignoring the pus and blood oozing from my wounds, I devoured spoiled food scraps. Onlookers raised their phones, the flash illuminating my stained strapless top and underwear. Taunts, sighs, and the catcalling of men filled the air. All I thought about was filling my stomach so I could survive to see Conner again.

On the day of the kidnapping, I begged Conner over the phone to pay for my release. He merely scoffed, "Emilia, your begging is pathetic. Your life isn't worth Kayla's treatment money." In that moment, my self-respect and hope were crushed. I was heartbroken. Yet when I escaped that nightmare, the only person I wanted to see was the man I had loved for eight years. Besides him, I had nothing left.

A sudden commotion stirred the crowd. Several men stormed in. Terrified, I clutched my food and scrambled back, spotting a luxury car parked at the crowd's edge. Conner leaned against it, looking down at me with disdain. Only then did I realize the men were his assistants. They tossed the remaining food into the trash, hoisted me up, and took me to his car.

My festering wounds oozed pus, leaving a stench that lingered in the car. Conner's eyes scanned my exposed skin. In just over ten days, my body bore countless whip marks and burns, with no unblemished skin left. He ignored those wounds, his gaze landing on my filthy undergarments. He frowned, "Emilia, you're absolutely filthy."

I knew he thought I was tainted inside and out. After he refused to pay the ransom, they stripped me, whipped me, burned me, hurled vile insults, and doused me with urine and feces. In the end, they violated me. At that moment, I finally understood. As the former foster daughter of the Peterson family and now Conner's fiancée, I could be arrogant with anyone but never measure up to even a strand of Kayla's hair. I contemplated ending my life but couldn't let go of Conner.

Barefoot, I ran over jagged glass, drank filthy water with dead rodents, and fled. Without rest, I finally returned to Conner. Yet he found me repulsive. My head hung low, humility consuming me. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make it back alive as quickly as possible, which is why I'm like this..."

Conner interrupted with a sneer. "Kayla was right. Even without paying the ransom, you'd come back alive because you orchestrated the whole thing!" My heart felt pierced, painfully contracting. From the start, Conner never believed I was kidnapped. The ransom demanded was five hundred thousand, the same amount he had set aside for Kayla's treatment. So Conner suspected all along that I staged my own kidnapping to take Kayla's treatment money and let her die.