The Fiancé Who Stole My Life

My fiancé, Garrison, told me his family would love me. He said I was perfect. But at our engagement dinner, I overheard their real plan: to harvest my kidney for his sick sister, Corliss, and then discard me.

They framed me for pushing Corliss, causing her to have a "stress-induced episode." Garrison, believing their lies, had me thrown into a brutal "behavioral correction facility."

When he finally came for me, it wasn't to save me. It was to show off his new woman, my old rival, Katia. He humiliated me at a party, forcing me to wear the same dress as her, then accused me of sabotaging a chandelier that nearly killed them-a chandelier I had actually pushed him away from.

In the hospital, broken and bruised from a car crash Katia orchestrated, Garrison showed me faked evidence of my "crimes." He called me an empty void, a monster, and told me he was done with me.

He believed I was a jealous viper trying to destroy his family. He never saw that they were the ones who had systematically destroyed me.

Lying in that hospital bed, alone and in agony, I finally understood. The man I loved was a stranger, and his family were my tormentors.

As he walked out of my life for good, a cold peace settled over me. I was finally free. And I would never look back.

1

Elna POV:

The limo stopped in front of the Crawford estate, a mansion so grand it looked like it belonged on a postcard. My stomach churned, a familiar knot of nerves tightening in my chest. This was it. The engagement dinner. Garrison's hand found mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles.

"Nervous?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

I just nodded. I couldn't quite name the feeling. It wasn't fear, not exactly. More like a dull ache, a heavy weight. Garrison always said I struggled with emotions, that they were a foreign language to me. He leaned in, his breath warm on my ear.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "My family will love you. You're perfect."

He kissed my temple, a fleeting touch that usually calmed me. Today, it did nothing. The heavy doors swung open, revealing a glittering foyer. Laughter and music spilled out. Garrison led me inside, his grip firm.

Then I saw her. A young woman, delicate and ethereal, with Garrison' s dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She was leaning against a marble pillar, a picture of fragile beauty. Garrison' s face lit up, a brighter, more genuine smile than the one he' d given me. He pulled his hand from mine, almost instinctively, and moved towards her.

"Corliss!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with an adoration that made my chest tighten.

The girl, Corliss, turned her head slowly, a faint smile gracing her lips. She looked tired, pale. She was Garrison' s younger sister. I knew she had a chronic illness, something serious, but Garrison rarely spoke about it. He enveloped her in a gentle hug, his large frame careful around her. He whispered something in her ear, and her smile widened.

Then, he remembered me. "Corliss, this is Elna. Elna, my sister, Corliss."

Corliss offered a small wave, her movements almost imperceptible. "It's so lovely to finally meet you, Elna. Garrison talks about you all the time." Her voice was soft, like rustling leaves.

A strange warmth spread through me. They seemed so… normal. So welcoming. Maybe my worries were just my usual emotional awkwardness blowing things out of proportion. This wouldn't be so bad.

Then, Mrs. Crawford, Garrison's mother, swept towards us. She was a formidable woman, impeccably dressed. Her gaze was sharp, assessing. She embraced Garrison, then turned her attention to me. She smiled, but her eyes held a calculating glint.

"Elna, dear," she began, her voice smooth as silk. "Garrison has told us so much about you. You look… very healthy."

The compliment felt odd, out of place. It wasn't about my dress, or my hair, but my health. I mumbled a thank you, feeling that familiar knot in my stomach tighten again.

"Such a pity about Corliss," Mrs. Crawford continued, her hand gently touching her daughter's arm. "So fragile. We' re hoping for a breakthrough soon. A swift, successful procedure, perhaps."

Procedure? The word hung in the air, heavy and ambiguous. I glanced at Garrison, but he was deep in conversation with Corliss, his back to me. Mrs. Crawford' s eyes stayed on me, unwavering.

"It will be a wonderful thing," she murmured, almost to herself. "For everyone involved."

The conversation shifted then, blurring into a cacophony of polite smiles and meaningless chatter. But Mrs. Crawford' s words, her intense scrutiny of my health, echoed in my mind. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cool evening air.

Later, Garrison and Corliss excused themselves, heading upstairs for what Garrison called "a quick catch-up." He squeezed my hand before leaving, but his eyes were already on his sister. I watched them go, a hollow feeling spreading through my chest.

Mrs. Crawford suddenly turned to me, her smile unwavering. "Elna, dear, would you be so kind as to fetch my… heirloom brooch from the attic? I simply must have it for tonight." She gestured vaguely towards a winding staircase. "It's in a small, carved wooden box. You can't miss it."

The attic? Now? I nodded, a mute puppet. Anything to escape the suffocating politeness.

The attic was vast and dimly lit, filled with forgotten treasures and decades of dust. I fumbled for the light switch, a single bulb flickering to life. As I searched for the brooch, a voice drifted up from below, clear and distinct. Garrison' s voice. And Corliss' s. They hadn' t gone far. They were in the room directly below me, a large unused guest suite. The floorboards were thin.

"She' s a perfect match, Garrison," Corliss whispered, her voice surprisingly strong, devoid of its usual fragility. "The doctors confirmed it. A rare blood type, just like mine. It's a miracle."

My breath hitched. A match? For what?

"I know, Corliss, I know," Garrison' s voice was strained, laced with a desperate hope I' d never heard before. "But… Elna… I don't know how to tell her. How to ask her. She struggles with things like this. She' s... not like us."

"She won't feel it the same way, darling brother," Corliss replied, a hint of steel in her tone. "She' s always so blank. She won't understand the gravity, the beauty of this sacrifice. Just tell her it' s what' s best for us. For our family. She'll accept it."

My hands started to tremble. Sacrifice? What were they talking about? Then Corliss said the words that shattered my world.

"A kidney, Garrison. It's just a kidney. And once it's done, she'll be out of our lives, and you can finally marry someone who truly understands you. Someone who isn't… damaged."

My knees buckled. I leaned against a dusty chest, the air knocked out of my lungs. A kidney. My kidney. They weren't planning an engagement dinner. This was a "Hush-hush Party" to coerce me into donating an organ. My organ. To save Corliss. And then, dispose of me.

The perfect, healthy Elna. My rare blood type. Mrs. Crawford' s "procedure." It all clicked into place, a horrifying puzzle. The dull ache in my chest intensified, twisting into something cold and sharp. Betrayal. It was pure, unadulterated betrayal.

A voice cut through my horrified thoughts. "Elna, dear? Did you find it?" Mrs. Crawford' s voice, from the foot of the attic stairs.

Panic seized me. I had to get out. I had to get away. I stumbled away from the floor vent, the carved wooden box forgotten. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird desperate to escape its cage. I don't think they saw me. I hope they didn't.

I navigated the rest of the evening in a daze, my body moving on autopilot. The smiles, the laughter, the clinking of glasses-they all felt distant, muffled. My mind raced, trying to process the enormity of what I'd heard. I felt hollowed out, empty.

My phone buzzed, a message from an unknown number. A single word: Run.

My blood ran cold. Someone else knew. Someone else knew their plan. The knot in my stomach tightened, this time with a new, icy fear. I needed to escape. Now.

"I… I don't feel well," I mumbled, clutching my stomach. "I need to use the restroom."

Garrison glanced at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

I nodded frantically, desperate to get away. "Just a little dizzy."

I rushed towards the powder room, my legs feeling like jelly. I locked the door behind me, leaning against it, trembling. The word Run flashed in my mind, stark and terrifying.

A soft knock. My heart leaped into my throat. "Elna? Are you in there?" It was Corliss. Her voice was no longer fragile. It held a chilling edge.

"I heard you," she said, her voice clear through the door. "Up in the attic. You heard everything, didn't you?"

My blood ran cold. She knew. She had known all along. I stood frozen, unable to move, unable to speak.

The door clicked open. Corliss stood there, her face devoid of its usual delicate sweetness. Her eyes, so like Garrison's, were now hard and cold. "Don' t bother denying it, Elna. It's useless."

"W-what are you talking about?" I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.

"The kidney, of course," she said, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "You heard us. And you know what? It' s true. You are a perfect match. And you will give it to me."

My mind reeled. The sheer audacity. The cold-blooded planning. "You… you can't force me."

Corliss laughed, a brittle, humorless sound. "Oh, Elna, you still don't understand, do you? Garrison cares about me more than anything. More than you. He will do anything for me. And if you don't cooperate… well, things will get very unpleasant for you." Her eyes narrowed. "You really think he loves you? You, with your blank face and empty eyes? He just tolerates you. For now."

Her words sliced through me, sharp and precise. They hurt more than I thought anything could. I felt a strange burning sensation behind my eyes, a feeling I rarely experienced. It was… anger? Or was it just another form of that dull ache?

Suddenly, Corliss gasped, clutching her chest. Her face contorted in pain. She sank to the floor, gasping for air. "Garrison!" she choked out. "Elna… she… she pushed me!"

My head spun. No. I hadn't touched her. This was another lie. Another manipulation.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Garrison burst in, his face etched with alarm. He saw Corliss on the floor, gasping, and me standing over her, frozen in shock.

"Corliss! What happened?" he cried, rushing to his sister's side.

"Elna… she… she got angry… tried to… to hurt me," Corliss whimpered, her voice weak and trembling, a perfect imitation of fragility.

Garrison looked up at me, his eyes now filled with a stony disbelief. "Elna? Is this true?"

I shook my head, unable to form words. The betrayal was a physical blow. He believed her. He always believed her.

"We need to get her to a hospital!" Mrs. Crawford suddenly appeared, her face a mask of concern.

Garrison scooped Corliss into his arms, her head nestled against his shoulder. He didn't spare me another glance. He carried her out, his footsteps echoing down the grand staircase. Mrs. Crawford followed, casting a venomous glare at me before disappearing.

I was left alone in the opulent powder room, the silence deafening. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and despair. What just happened? How could he?

I found my way out of the house unnoticed, a phantom amidst the chaos. I followed their car to the hospital, a strange compulsion driving me. From a distance, I watched as they wheeled Corliss into the emergency room.

Hours later, a doctor emerged, his face grave. "Corliss is stable," he announced to the anxious Crawfords. "But she had a severe stress-induced episode. Her kidney function is rapidly declining. She needs a transplant, and soon. Otherwise…" He trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging heavy.

My heart sank further. This was their game. Their cruel, elaborate game to get what they wanted.

Corliss was eventually moved to a private room, still looking pale and weak. But her eyes, whenever they met mine, held a malicious gleam. Garrison returned to the mansion that night, his face drawn. He looked exhausted, but his anger was palpable.

"How could you, Elna?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "After everything Corliss is going through, you tried to harm her?"

"I didn't push her, Garrison," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "She's faking."

He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Faking? The doctors confirmed her condition! Her kidney is failing, Elna! And you, you tried to attack her! You're a monster!"

"She needs a kidney, Garrison," Mrs. Crawford interjected, her voice dripping with venom. "And you, Elna, you are a perfect match. A rare match. It' s almost divine intervention. Yet you are so selfish."

"Selfish?" I repeated, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "You want me to undergo major surgery against my will? You want to take my organ?"

"It' s not just an organ, Elna," Mrs. Crawford hissed. "It's a chance for Corliss to live. A chance for our family to be whole again. You have no idea what we've been through. All these years, suffering in silence. And you, you bring more chaos. You ruined Corliss's last chance."

Garrison looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Doubt? Guilt? It vanished quickly, replaced by a cold resolve.

"You're right, Mother," he said, his voice flat. "Elna needs help. She can't stay here. Not like this."

He walked towards me, his gaze distant. "I'm doing this for your own good, Elna," he said, his words devoid of any warmth. "You need to learn. To change. Until you do, you can't be near us."

The next morning, two burly men arrived at the mansion. They escorted me into a black car. I didn't resist. I was too numb. They took me to a place that felt like a prison, a "behavioral correction facility." It was brutal. The days blurred into weeks, filled with harsh discipline, forced labor, and constant humiliation. They claimed to be "correcting my emotional deficiencies." They told me I needed to learn empathy, selflessness.

I often lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand Corliss's hatred. What had I ever done to her? Why did she want to destroy me? The confusion gnawed at me, a constant, dull ache. Sometimes, the despair was so overwhelming, I thought about ending it all. Just one peaceful sleep. No more pain. No more confusion.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Garrison came for me. He stood at the entrance of the facility, looking pristine and powerful, a stark contrast to my worn, hollowed-out self. Hope, a fragile, unfamiliar feeling, flickered within me. Had he finally seen the truth? Had he come to rescue me?

But then I saw her. A woman standing beside him, her arm linked casually through his. She was beautiful, with a confident, almost predatory air. My blood ran cold. It was Katia Smith. A girl from my past, a long-time rival. The one who always seemed to want what I had, who always tried to diminish me.

Garrison smiled, a tight, forced smile that didn' t reach his eyes. "Elna," he said, his voice strangely flat. "You're… well, you're back." He gestured towards Katia. "This is Katia. She's been a great help to our family during this difficult time. A true benefactor."

Benefactor. The word echoed in my empty mind. Katia looked at me, her eyes gleaming with triumph. A silent, cruel victory. Garrison's hand rested on her back, a possessive gesture. The message was clear. I had been replaced.

I walked past them, my gaze fixed straight ahead. The flickering hope died, replaced by a profound, chilling emptiness. He had not come to save me. He had come to flaunt his new life, his new woman.

I remembered his words, whispered under the starry sky during one of our first dates. "Elna, you're the only one for me. I' ll never betray you. I promise."

The promise felt like a cruel joke now. It was over. Everything was over. My heart, which had just begun to stir with unfamiliar emotions, now felt like a block of ice.