He Made Me Invisible, I Made Him Irrelevant

While Alexander attended to Victoria's every whimper, I slipped quietly through the service entrance.

I had barely made it halfway down the winding driveway when headlights flooded the darkness. A familiar black SUV pulled up alongside me, the healers vehicle.

The family lawyer, Mr. Reeves emerged with a sympathetic smile.

"Lauren, thank goodness we found you. Alexander is worried sick," he lied smoothly. "You're having another episode. Let us help you home."

Before I could protest, two nurses in white uniforms approached from behind. One pressed a cloth against my face, the smell flooded my senses before darkness took me.

I woke up in our home medical suite, My clothing had been changed to a thin gown, and an IV dripped clear fluid into my arm.

Alexander entered my line of vision.

"You're finally awake," Then he leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Try to run again, and next time you'll wake up in the psychiatric ward I just purchased. A lifetime of sedation might finally cure your disobedience."

The healer approached with a chart. "Mr. Blackwood, I must advise against this procedure. The risks to your wife's reproductive system—"

"The procedure happens now," Alexander cut him off. "Victoria needs those hormones for the baby, and Lauren isn't using her ovaries for anything important, are you, dear?"

I stared at him, uncomprehending, until the Healer explained in clinical terms.

"We'll be harvesting immature egg follicles and extracting hormones to create a treatment for Victoria's pregnancy complications. The procedure is aggressive. It will likely damage your ovarian tissue permanently."

My body went cold. "You're taking my ability to have children?"

Alexander's eyes hardened. "Victoria's baby is the only Blackwood heir that matters. Your role was always temporary."

From across the room, Victoria called out, her voice strained. "Alexander, the pain is getting worse! Please hurry!"

Without hesitation, he abandoned our conversation and rushed to her side.

The healer looked at me with genuine pity. "I have to sedate you now."

As the drugs pulled me under, I heard Alexander instructing the doctor: "Take everything you need. If she can't walk afterward, it doesn't matter."

Without another word, Alexander rushed out, leaving me with the doctor who looked at me with genuine pity just as the mask came down over my face.

Three days later, I woke in a private hospital room. The first thing I saw was Alexander sitting by the window, his laptop open on the small table beside him.

A nurse entered with a tray of hospital food and medications. Alexander dismissed her with a wave.

"You need to eat," he said flatly, picking up the spoon.

I turned my head away. "I can feed myself."

He sighed then set the tray down where I could reach it.

"The procedure was successful," he stated. "Victoria's body is accepting the treatment. The baby's vitals have improved significantly."

"I need my medication," I whispered. "My heart—"

Alexander checked his watch. "The healers say you're exaggerating your symptoms again. You should try to be less dramatic."

I reached for the call button, but he moved it out of my reach.

"Alexander, please," I gasped. "My pills are in my purse."

With a look of annoyance, he rifled through my bag, finding the small orange bottle. Instead of handing it to me, he studied the label.

"These are expensive," he remarked coldly. "Another drain on resources that could be going to Victoria and the baby."

As my breathing became more labored, he finally tossed the bottle onto the bed, just beyond my reach. I struggled to grasp it with trembling fingers.

"You know," he said, watching me struggle, "you should really stop this childish behavior. It's embarrassing at your age."

I managed to swallow a pill dry, waiting for the medicine to ease the crushing pressure in my chest.

Alexander's phone chimed with a message. His entire appearance changed as he read it, his face softening.

"Victoria's having cravings again," he murmured.

Before he could leave, I gathered my strength to ask, "May I have my phone?"

He paused, studying me with sudden suspicion. "Who would you need to call?"

"My healer," I lied smoothly. "About my medication."

After a moment of deliberation, he instructed a nurse to bring my phone from the drawer.

As I scrolled through my notifications, I noticed dozens of missed calls from a number Alexander had never seen before.

"Who's been calling you so persistently?" he demanded, hostility creeping into his voice.

I looked up at him, my gaze unwavering for the first time in years. "Someone who actually cares whether I live or die."

His jaw tightened as he loosened his tie. Leaning over my hospital bed, he gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white.

"Olivia," he hissed, "I've tolerated your little rebellion long enough. You belong to me, remember? Everything you have—your medical care, this private room, the clothes on your back—all of it exists because of my generosity."

Once, those words would have broken me. I would have apologized, begged for forgiveness, tried to make amends.

Instead, I simply pointed to his vibrating phone and said tonelessly, "Victoria needs you."

The fight drained from his expression at the sound of her name. Without another glance in my direction, he strode into the hallway to answer her call.

The moment the door closed behind him, my phone rang again. I answered immediately, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Lauren? Thank God you finally picked up! I've been worried sick," came the urgent voice on the other end. "Our plan was for you to meet me at the safe house two days ago. What happened?"