My Fiancé Forced Me to Save His Mistress

I woke up to someone throwing my bedroom door open.

It was two in the morning. My ribs still burned from the car crash, and every breath felt like broken glass in my lungs.

Calum stood over my bed. His tie was gone. His white dress shirt was wrinkled, and his eyes were wild.

"Get up," he said.

I pushed myself up against the headboard, wincing. "Calum? What happened?"

"Valentina’s right kidney is completely ruptured," he said. His voice was tense, running too fast. "Internal bleeding. She won't survive the night without an immediate donor. You share her rare blood type. The hospital is prepping the surgical suite right now."

I blinked at him, my head spinning. "What are you talking about? I was in a car wreck five days ago. My body is covered in bruises. The doctors told me to rest—"

"I don't care," he cut in.

He reached down and grabbed my arm. His fingers dug deep into the yellow-and-purple bruises on my skin. He hauled me out of bed with one hard yank.

"Calum, stop!" I gasped, pain shooting through my torso. "You can't just take my kidney! I didn't sign anything!"

"I signed for you," he said. His face was pure stone. "As your fiancé and power of attorney. It's already done."

I looked toward the hallway. My parents were standing right by the door.

My father had his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't say a word. My mother clutched her silk robe with both hands. Her knuckles were white. She looked at the hardwood floor, at the wall, at the ceiling. She looked at everything except me.

"Mom," I whispered. My voice cracked. "Please. I'm hurt."

Eleanor didn't move. She didn't blink. She stayed frozen like a statue.

Calum pulled me toward the stairs. When I tried to pull back, his grip tightened until I felt my bones groan.

"Stop making a scene, Aurelia," he said into my ear. His tone was freezing cold. "She’s your sister. Don't be so selfish."

They drove me to Mount Sinai in silence.

Ten minutes after we arrived, two nurses wheeled me into the operating room. The ceiling lights were blinding. The air smelled of bleach and cold steel.

I looked at the blue mask they pressed over my nose. "Wait," I begged. "Please, just wait—"

A cold rush entered my IV, and the world went dark.

***

Pain woke me up.

It wasn't a dull ache. It was a searing, white-hot fire tearing straight through my right side.

My eyes flew open.

The bright overhead lights blinded me. I looked down through my tears and saw the green surgical drapes. A doctor stood above me, his gloved hands deep inside an open incision in my abdomen.

He was holding a scalpel.

The anesthesia had failed. I was wide awake.

I tried to suck in air, but my chest locked. I let out a sound. It wasn't human. It was a raw, strangled shriek that ripped the lining of my throat.

"She's conscious!" a nurse yelled, dropping a metal tray. "The anesthesia wore off! Increase the propofol!"

"No time," a cold voice said. "The graft is halfway out. If we stop now, the tissue dies."

I thrashed against the table. The pain was unbearable. It felt like someone was ripping my organs out with bare hands. Tears poured into my ears. I opened my mouth to scream again, but two heavy hands slammed down on my shoulders.

"Hold her down," the head surgeon ordered. "Elliott cleared whatever we need to do. Just hold her."

Gloved fingers pinned my wrists and shoulders to the metal slab. I screamed until blood coated my teeth. I screamed until my vocal cords shredded into silence.

Finally, blackness swallowed me whole.

***

When I opened my eyes again, the room was quiet.

I was in a recovery bay. A plastic cannula blew cold oxygen into my nose. Every inch of my body shook with violent chills. My hospital gown was soaked in cold sweat.

Nobody was holding my hand.

I turned my head slowly toward the large interior window.

In the private room right next to mine, the warm lights were on. Valentina lay propped up on a mountain of pillows. Her color had already returned.

Calum sat right beside her. He was leaning forward, both of his large hands wrapped gently around her fingers. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, whispering something that made her smile softly.

He didn't look through the glass once.

My phone vibrated on the small metal side table. With shaking fingers, I picked it up.

It was a text from Calum.

*Thank you. She's stable.*

Three words. No question about how I was. No mention of the surgery. Nothing about the screams that had echoed through the hall.

I stared at the screen. My hands didn't shake anymore.

I tapped the trash icon and deleted the message.

A moment later, a young attending doctor in a white coat walked in. He held a blue clipboard and looked nervous. He pulled the privacy curtain shut behind him and pulled up a stool.

"Ms. Daniels?" he said softly.

I tried to reply, but only a dry, broken hiss came out of my throat.

He swallowed hard. "I ran your routine post-op blood panels an hour ago. There's something in your lab results you need to see."

He turned the tablet toward me.

"Your HCG levels are elevated," he said in a low whisper. "You're about four weeks pregnant."

The room seemed to tilt.

Four weeks.

The night Calum had come to my apartment in the rain, swearing he only loved me.

My hand moved under the rough blanket, resting flat against my flat belly. Just inches from the fresh, angry surgical wound.

A tiny life was inside me. Calum’s child.

"Does anyone else know?" I managed to whisper. My voice sounded like gravel scraping on stone.

The doctor shook his head. "Not yet. It just cleared the lab."

"Don't tell them," I said. My eyes met his, cold and steady. "Keep this file locked. Seal it under my personal ID only. Don't let the Daniels family or Calum Elliott see it."

The doctor looked at the door, then back at me. He nodded slowly. "Understood."

I closed my eyes and turned my face to the wall.

I was done crying. From this moment on, I had to keep my baby alive. And to do that, I had to disappear.