Five Years as a Stand-In Wife, Then He Chose my Sister

“No.” My voice came out steady as I pulled my arm back. “I’m not giving her my blood.”

Damien’s expression darkened immediately. “Don’t do this again, Talia. She has leukemia. She needs transfusions. You’re compatible.”

“That isn’t my problem,” I replied, refusing to budge. “I’m not the only one barely holding it together.”

Marcus stepped closer, jaw tight. “How can you be this selfish? She’s dying, Talia.”

“She isn’t dying,” I shot back. “She’s pretending, like she always did when we were kids just to avoid chores and homework.”

Elliot raised his voice. “That’s enough. You sound crazy.”

Before I could react, hands were on my arms.

All of them.

I struggled. I kicked. I twisted. But I was still weak, still bruised, still exhausted — and there were three of them. They dragged me outside like I didn’t belong to myself anymore, shoved me into the car, and drove straight to the hospital.

I barely had time to breathe.

Within an hour, I was strapped down.

No one asked for my consent.

No one listened when I begged them to stop.

Needles. Tubes. Bags filling with dark red liquid while nurses exchanged uneasy looks at the number of vials being ordered.

The world tipped sideways.

And then everything went black.

---

When I woke up, I felt empty.

Like someone had scooped the life out of me and left the shell behind. My limbs were heavy. My chest felt cold. My head spun as my eyes adjusted to the light.

The first face I saw was the last one I ever wanted.

Bianca.

She sat beside my bed, holding a small tray.

“You’re awake,” she said softly. “I brought you something to eat.”

For a split second, my heart almost believed her.

Then everything came rushing back.

I swiped the tray away. The plate hit the floor with a sharp crash.

The door flew open.

Damien. Elliot. Marcus.

“What’s wrong with you?” Marcus barked. “She went through the trouble of bringing you food.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Damien added. “She’s trying to fix things and you act like this?”

“You forced me!” I shouted, my throat burning. “You held me down and took my blood!”

“Talia…” Bianca murmured, her voice trembling. “Please don’t be like this. You’re my sister. I only wanted peace between us.”

She stepped closer and leaned in as if to hug me.

Her lips brushed my ear.

“You see it now?” she whispered sweetly. “They’ve already chosen. So behave.”

My body went still. Damien’s stare turned sharp. “Apologize. Now.”

My hands clenched the sheets. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Elliot stepped forward slightly. “Careful.” My throat tightened.

“…Fine,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Not because I meant it.

Because I didn’t have the strength to keep fighting.

They relaxed. Satisfied. Like they’d corrected something broken.

I closed my eyes and turned my face to the wall, pretending to sleep, pretending I couldn’t hear Bianca’s soft fake crying or my brothers’ murmured comfort.

I stayed that way until they finally left.

---

That night, my phone buzzed.

Julian: Tomorrow’s the day. Are you still in?

I stared at the screen and typed back.

Yes.

---

The following morning, I didn’t want to leave the hospital.

My body still ached. My heart felt worse. Every part of me wanted to disappear.

But Damien didn’t ask. He told me.

“We’re doing this,” he said coldly. “You owe it to Bianca. You promised. Stop acting like a child.”

So I went.

Not because I wanted to.

Because saying no only meant more yelling, more blame, more guilt shoved down my throat like bitter medicine.

I wore a soft, pale dress — the same one from our very first date. Back when I believed in things like forever. Back when he held my hand like it meant something. Back when I thought I mattered.

He said to meet him at a restaurant.

Just us. To fix things. So I waited.

I arrived early. I wasn’t sure if I hoped he’d show up… or if I hoped he wouldn’t.

The waitress brought water.

Then came back. Then came back again. Minutes turned into an hour. Then another.

“I’ll be waiting for someone,” I told her with a small smile. “He should be here soon.”

He wasn’t. Neither were Marcus or Elliot.

I checked my phone. Nothing.

The water got warm. The music changed. My back started to hurt from sitting too straight, for too long.

I kept looking at the door.

Maybe now. Maybe now. Then my phone vibrated.

Bianca.

Of course.

Bianca: Looks like they can’t make it, sister. They’re busy… with me. Enjoy your dinner alone.

Below the message were photos of them together.

Once, I would’ve cried. This time, I didn’t.

---

I stood up calmly and called the manager over.

“I need to leave a few things here,” I said.

From my bag, I placed a small bundle of papers on the table.

A copy of our fake marriage certificate. The hospital report confirming the loss of my baby. The ring he’d given me five years ago.

“If he comes asking,” I said quietly, “tell him Talia Ashcroft doesn’t exist anymore.”

I turned and walked out.

The bell above the door chimed once, clean and final.

---

Julian was already waiting on the sidewalk.

Just like he promised.

He stepped toward me and held out his hand.

“Ready?”

I nodded. “Completely.”

He led me to the car, and we drove straight for the airport.

Inside the car, I looked at my phone — old photos, old messages, names that no longer meant anything.

I opened the SIM tray. I removed it. I dropped it into a bin.

Gone.

As I boarded the plane beside Julian, a calm I hadn’t felt in years settled into my chest.

Tomorrow, they might notice I’m gone. They might panic. They might search.

But they will never find me.

Never again.