After His Mistress Crashed Into Me, He Asked for My Kidney

Arabella didn't walk out the sliding glass doors. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her designer heels stabbed the linoleum floor as she spun around.

"I'm not leaving yet," she snapped.

Before I could argue, she marched back toward the elevators. I followed her, clutching my bruised ribs. We rode up to the fourth floor in silence. The doors slid open. The hallway smelled like bleach and old coffee. Kaleb stood outside Daniella’s room. He was talking to a nurse, his hands shoved deep into his tailored pockets.

Arabella didn't hesitate. She walked right up to him.

Kaleb looked up. His jaw tightened instantly. "Arabella," he warned. "Don't start."

Arabella laughed. It was a loud, sharp sound that echoed down the quiet hall. Several nurses turned their heads. Arabella didn't care.

"You really are a fool, Kaleb," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "You think she's a saint? You think she came back to New York because she missed you?"

"She came back because she's sick," Kaleb hissed. He stepped closer, trying to use his height to intimidate her. It didn't work.

"She ran from Paris because she had to," Arabella fired back. She didn't lower her voice at all. "She slept with half the arrondissement. Her husband caught her in their own bed with a tennis instructor. She’s a walking scandal, Kaleb. She doesn't have a moral compass, and she certainly doesn't have failing kidneys."

Kaleb’s face flushed red. The veins in his neck pushed against his collar. "Keep your voice down. You're being hysterical. I know you want to protect Olivia, but making up disgusting lies about a dying woman is a new low."

"A dying woman?" Arabella smirked. "You're blind. She's playing you for a fool."

"Get out," Kaleb ordered. His eyes were dark and furious. "Both of you. Before I have security throw you out."

I reached out and touched Arabella's arm. I felt absolutely nothing for the man standing in front of me. "Let's go, Ara. He's a lost cause."

We turned our backs on him and walked away.

Ten minutes later, we were sitting in the back of Arabella’s hired town car. The black leather seats were freezing. Arabella pulled her phone from her trench coat. She dialed a number and put it on speaker.

"Fletch," she said the moment her husband answered.

"Ara. Did you get her?" Fletcher’s calm, deep voice filled the car.

"I got her. Now I need a favor. Pull the medical board records on Daniella Ortiz’s attending physician. I want to know exactly who is signing off on this miraculous kidney failure."

"Give me five minutes," Fletcher said. The line went dead.

I stared out the window at the passing city. My thumb drifted to my lower back, pressing against my hidden scar. The irony was suffocating. I had given him a real piece of my body, and he was ready to carve out the rest for a lie.

My phone buzzed. It was Fletcher calling back. Arabella answered it quickly.

"Dr. Mateo Ortiz," Fletcher said simply. "He’s a junior attending. They share a maiden name, Ara. I made a few calls. He’s her first cousin."

Arabella let out a dark, triumphant breath. "Got her."

"The illness is a complete fabrication," Fletcher continued. "I'm pulling his credentials now. It's a massive ethics violation."

"Thanks, Fletch. I owe you." Arabella hung up. She looked at me, her eyes flashing. "She's not dying, Liv. It's a setup."

I nodded slowly. "I need my passport. Take me to Kaleb's building."

The car pulled up to Kaleb’s luxury high-rise twenty minutes later. We didn't get out right away. Outside the heavy glass doors, a man was pacing furiously. He wore a wrinkled coat, and his hair was a greasy mess. He shoved a finger into the doorman’s chest, shouting words we couldn't hear through the glass. He kicked the brass trash can, his face twisted in pure, volatile rage.

Arabella gasped softly. "Look at that. It's Waylen Hicks. Daniella’s ex-husband."

"He looks unhinged," I whispered.

"Karma never misses," Arabella replied.

We slipped through the private garage entrance to avoid him. I rode the elevator up to the penthouse. The air inside felt stale. I walked straight into the master bedroom. I opened the safe, grabbed my passport, and tossed it into my tote bag.

The front door clicked open. Heavy footsteps echoed in the foyer. Kaleb walked in.

He didn't see me. He had his phone on speaker, holding it close to his face. Daniella’s voice filled the quiet apartment. She was sobbing. It was a loud, breathless, theatrical cry.

"He's downstairs, Kaleb! Waylen is here!" she wailed. "He's going to kill me!"

"Breathe, Dani," Kaleb said. His voice was sickeningly soft. He sounded like a knight in shining armor.

"My side hurts so much," she whimpered. "My kidneys can't take this stress. The doctor said my blood pressure is spiking. Please, Kaleb. You're the only one who can protect me. I'm so scared."

"I won't let him near you," Kaleb promised fiercely. "I'm doubling the guards right now. You are safe with me. I swear it."

I zipped my tote bag. The sharp sound cut through the room.

Kaleb froze. He turned and saw me standing in the doorway. His phone was still in his hand. Daniella was still crying on the line, begging for her life.

I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I just looked at him. I looked at the great CEO, completely trapped in a web of cheap lies, defending a woman who was playing him like a fiddle.

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder. I walked right past him, leaving him alone with his fake savior.