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My Fiance Planned My Car Crash for His Mistress Novel Cover

My Fiance Planned My Car Crash for His Mistress

Days before her wedding, Greta’s world is shattered by a devastating car crash that leaves her spine broken. While she copes with the reality of never walking again, she overhears her fiancé, Jonah Stafford, conspiring with her doctor. To Greta's horror, Jonah is intentionally delaying her life-altering surgery. He wants her permanently disabled so she will quietly accept his mistress's child into the family. Realizing his love was a cruel trap, Greta resolves to play his dangerous game.
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Chapter 1

Three days before my wedding, I got hit by a car. My spine was broken.

Jonah Stafford, my fiancé, made sure the person responsible went to prison. But as I laid in that hospital bed, none of it mattered. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to face the reality of never walking again.

Somewhere between the pain and the haze, I heard Jonah talking to the doctor.

"We still have time for surgery. But if we wait a few more days, Greta will be permanently disabled. If you just want Naomi as your bride, fine, but why risk her life?"

Jonah sighed like this was all a burden to him. "If she’s disabled, I’ll have to take care of her forever. But, if she recovers, she’ll cause trouble at the wedding."

My breath caught in my throat.

"I promised Naomi I’d bring her into the Stafford Family. If Greta is completely disabled, she’ll have no choice but to accept my child as her own. At least that way, she won’t mistreat her."

A single tear slipped down my face.

So that was it. The wedding I had been looking forward to was a lie. The love I had believed in was nothing but a death sentence.

Fine. If this was what he wanted, I would give it to him.

——

"Just follow the plan," Jonah said. "Make sure the hysterectomy is done cleanly, she can’t find out."

The doctor wiped his forehead, looking uneasy. "Are you sure? Greta is already paralyzed on one side. If you take away her ability to have children too… what’s left of her? How will she even face your family?"

He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "And what about your child with Naomi? The girl is three. She looks just like you. If Greta finds out, everything could fall apart."

Jonah reached out and gently wiped my dry lips with a wet tissue, over and over again. His touch was careful, almost tender, but it meant nothing now.

His voice was low, filled with something that almost sounded like regret. But not for me. "She won’t find out. As long as she’s disabled, she’ll have no choice but to stay in the Stafford Manor. She won’t be able to step outside, let alone cause trouble."

He exhaled slowly, like he was carrying a weight. "I promised Naomi a grand wedding. I promised I’d watch our children grow up together. Even though she’s married someone else now, I’ll make sure she never has to worry about a thing."

The doctor beside him let out a sigh and glanced at my face. "She’s a good woman. You grew up together and yet you… Never mind. It’s not my place." He shook his head. "If you’re set on this, I won’t say anything more."

Jonah’s tone hardened. "Just make sure the surgery is clean. No scars. No mistakes. Do it while she’s still unconscious, I don’t want her to suffer more than necessary."

The doctor hesitated for a moment, then left. Jonah pulled out his phone and sent a voice message to his assistant. "Did the driver slip up? Make sure he sticks to the plan. Give his family five hundred thousand dollars and move them out of the city. Greta can’t ever find out."

A fresh wave of tears slid down my cheeks, disappearing into the pillow.

Jonah kept wiping my body with warm water, his hands steady, his movements almost soothing. But no matter how much warmth he pressed into my skin, I couldn’t stop shivering.

The wedding I had been looking forward to for five years was never mine. It was always meant for Naomi. And that car accident wasn’t an accident at all.

He had set it up. I was nothing more than an obstacle in his way. Everything—the love, the promises, the perfect future I thought we had—was a lie.

I tried to open my eyes, to fight back, but before I could, a sharp sting spread through my veins. Anesthesia.

As they wheeled me toward the operating room, Jonah leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. His voice was gentle, almost affectionate. "Just rest, Greta. It'll be over soon."

The cold surgical tools dug into my body. The pain barely registered. My heart had already gone numb.

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