Branded the Other Woman

I had just finished my check-up and stepped out through the glass doors of the hospital's outpatient building when a sudden, brutal force yanked my arm. I stumbled and crashed onto the cold tiled floor.

"You bitch! Have you no shame seducing men right inside a hospital?! I'll beat you to death today!" A woman in a mink coat grabbed my collar and dragged me aside, her nails scraping across my neck and leaving a burning sting.

"Since you like acting like a slut so much, why don't we let everyone get a good look at you?"

I struggled desperately, raising my voice in protest. "You've got the wrong person. I'm not a mistress!"

The woman shoved her phone right in front of my face. "How dare you deny it! Isn't this a photo of you with my husband?"

I fell silent as I looked at the man in the picture, for he was the leukemia patient I had just been matched with—the very one I was preparing to donate bone marrow to.

The Donor Accused

When I froze, Belinda Kingsley took my silence as confirmation. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head toward the steps beside us. I just had several tubes of blood drawn, so I was already dizzy and weak. Her assault on me nearly knocked me unconscious.

"Don't play dumb. If you had the guts to seduce someone else's husband, then you should've seen this coming, too!"

Her grip tightened in my hair, yanking so hard it felt like my scalp was being torn off. I reached up and pried at her fingers, my nails digging into the back of her hand. She hissed in pain and flung me away, causing the back of my head to crack against the ground.

The crowd around us began to murmur.

"She looks so pretty. Who would've thought she'd do something so shameless?"

An older man spat in my direction. "Disgusting. Back in the old days, someone like her would've been dragged off for punishment!"

Now that they had people backing them up, Belinda and her mother, Karen Vossler, grew even more emboldened.

Karen yanked my coat open in one rough motion. "You wretched tramp, let everyone take a good look at you!" She grabbed my chin and forced my face toward the crowd, her nails digging into my cheeks.

Phones were raised. Cameras came so close they were practically pressed against my face. I twisted my head desperately, trying to avoid the lenses. Alas, I was too weak to break free.

"Stop this!" I shouted hoarsely, but my voice was swallowed by the surrounding noise.

My hands shook as I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out a document. "I'm a registered volunteer with the National Marrow Donor Registry. Your husband has leukemia—only he and I are a match!"

The crowd fell silent almost instantly, stepping back from the clearly about-to-explode keg.

"Oh… she's a donor? Then, this really might be a misunderstanding."

Belinda glanced at the paper in my hand, her movements turning hesitant.

I braced myself against the ground, about to stand up and explain everything properly. Unfortunately, Karen suddenly snatched the document away. She crumpled it into a ball in a few quick motions and threw it straight at my face.

"Belinda, you're not actually believing her, are you? George has always been perfectly healthy. How could he possibly have leukemia? You're his wife! You live with him every day. Wouldn't you have noticed?"

The hesitation on Belinda's face vanished instantly, replaced by fresh anger. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. "I almost fell for your nonsense. My husband is perfectly fine. How dare you make up something like that to curse him!"

I endured the burning pain on my cheek and growled through clenched teeth, "Are you stupid? Call your husband and ask him if you don't believe me. We'll see who's lying, then!"

Belinda let out a sneer. "Fine. I'll call. Like my husband would ever lie to me."

She pulled her phone out of the designer bag hanging from her arm. After a few beeps, a woman's voice answered from the other end. "Hello? Mr. Coleman is in a meeting right now. May I be of assistance?"

Belinda's expression darkened instantly. She snapped into the phone, "Who gave you permission to touch my husband's phone? I'm not dead yet. So, who do you think you are, trying to take my place?"