After My Miscarriage, He Harvested My Womb for His Mistress

"I paid for your schooling, supported your whole family, and this is how you repay me?"

Derek's face darkened, like I'd hit a nerve.

"Shut up! That was all your one-sided delusion—you patting yourself on the back!"

"If you hadn't clung to me like a leech, Serena and I would've been married years ago!"

"You're dead weight. Other than cooking and laundry, what can you even do?"

"Serena's different. She's a Pruitt—she can actually advance my career."

"Giving her your uterus is the most useful thing you'll ever do."

The door swung open.

A nurse wheeled in a medication cart. One look at the tension in the room and she froze, too scared to speak.

Derek's expression smoothed into that polished, professional mask.

"Change the dressing for Bed 3 and prep the skin. First surgery tomorrow morning."

The nurse hesitated. "Dr. Gilbert, Bed 3 just had a uterine evacuation. Her vitals—"

"Do what I said." His voice cracked like a whip.

She flinched and nodded quickly.

Right there, with her watching, Derek flipped my blanket open.

No warning. No respect. Like he was inspecting a slab of meat.

"Recovery looks fine. Won't affect the retrieval."

Retrieval.

Like I was a package.

The humiliation hit so hard I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Because I'd spotted the wheelchair parked in the doorway.

A woman sat in it, smiling right at me.

Serena Pruitt.

I'd only ever seen her photo—tucked in the hidden fold of Derek's wallet. An old picture from years ago. The girl in it looked so innocent, like a delicate white flower.

The Serena in front of me wore a hospital gown. Even sitting in a wheelchair, her complexion was rosy.

She looked healthier than me—the one who'd just miscarried.

The second Derek saw her, his whole demeanor melted into something sickeningly tender.

"Serena, why are you here? There are germs everywhere—you might get infected."

She extended her hand delicately, letting him support her.

"Derek, I'm worried about my sister."

"She just lost her baby. She must be devastated. I had to see her."

He wheeled her to my bedside.

The scent hit me first—expensive perfume. The same one Derek bought last week. With my card.

Serena took my hand, and the tears came on cue.

"Sister, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. My body just isn't strong enough."

"I want so badly to have Derek's baby."

"Since you can't carry one anymore… lend me your womb. You won't be using it anyway."

Lend?

You can lend something like that?

I stared at her fake, pitiful face, and my stomach turned.

"Get out. Don't touch me."

I wrenched my hand free with everything I had.

Serena went with it—Loss of balance, dramatic stumble, whole body crashing to the floor.

"Ow! It hurts!"

"Serena!"

Derek lunged for her, scooped her up, then spun around and backhanded me across the face.

Crack.

The slap was vicious.

My freshly sutured abdomen seized. My vision went black.

"Alex! You vicious bitch! Serena came to see you out of kindness, and you shoved her?"

I cupped my cheek, ears ringing.

"She's faking it… Derek, are you blind? She's not sick at all!"

When I pulled away, I barely used any force.

And her pulse had been strong. Her palm warm. Nothing about her screamed "congenital illness."

I studied medicine. I know what sick looks like.

Derek didn't hear a word. He was too busy settling Serena gently back into the wheelchair.

"If anything happens to her—I'll make you pay with your life."