My Wife Lied to Steal My Kidney

"Callum, let me do you a favor."

Jordan’s voice was light, almost playful, as he stepped out of the shadows, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Since you reek of shit, how about a bucket of swill to cover it up? No need to thank me."

The cold liquid dripped from my hair, soaking through my clothes. My whole body stiffened, but I didn’t react.

Jordan smirked. "How did it feel, watching me and Yolanda? Must’ve been quite the show, huh? Since you were so generous with your kidneys, I figured I’d be generous too—let you watch us for free."

I clenched my jaw. So that was his game. He wanted me to see it.

"I didn’t give them to you," I said, my voice calm but firm. "You cheated. You stole them."

Jordan let out a dramatic sigh, like he was disappointed. "And? What are you gonna do about it? Some people are born to serve and you? You’re one of them. Doesn’t matter if it’s your kidneys, your pride, or your whole damn life—you were made to be used by people like me."

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he took a step closer. "And Yolanda? She understands that. If I told her to get rid of you, she wouldn’t even flinch. Because I’m the only man she’s ever truly loved."

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit, but I kept my face blank.

Jordan tilted his head, studying me. "You’re even more pathetic than I thought, Callum. You actually believed you could keep Yolanda? That you could share her with me?" He laughed, slow and mocking. "What a joke."

I said nothing.

"Your fiancée. Your wife. Your father’s life. Both of your kidneys. Everything you had, I took. Because I wanted to. And because Yolanda let me."

My hands curled into fists.

Jordan grinned, like he was enjoying this. "Don’t believe me? Let me break it down for you. That night, I pretended to have a stomachache. Told Yolanda I was worried one kidney wouldn’t be enough. And you know what she did?"

He paused, waiting for a reaction. "She took your last kidney without a second thought. Handed it over like it meant nothing."

A cold, sick feeling twisted in my gut, but he wasn’t done. "And your father? He screamed when he died. Eyes bulging, teeth cracking from clenching so hard. But you know what’s funny?"

Jordan leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Even in his last moments, he was worried about you."

He pulled back, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. "The old man was in agony, but all he cared about was his useless son. How pathetic is that?"

I exhaled sharply, my vision blurring with rage. I had known Jordan was shameless, but this was something else.

My whole body was trembling. This man had killed my father and still acted like he’d done nothing wrong.

I clenched my fists, my breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Before I could even lift a hand, Jordan grabbed a dinner knife, dragged it across his own arm—just deep enough to break the skin—then threw it at my feet and let out a dramatic scream.

The next thing I knew, I was shoved to the ground.

"Callum, are you insane?!" Yolanda’s voice cut through the cold night air like a whip.

She had thrown herself at Jordan, her hands frantically pressing against his arm like he was bleeding out. The tiny cut had already stopped bleeding, but that didn’t stop her from tearing the hem of her expensive dress to wrap around his wound.

I just sat there, stunned. Jordan buried his face against her shoulder, his voice laced with pitiful desperation.

"Yolanda, I was just worried about Callum," he said, his tone shaking just enough to sound convincing. "I thought the cold wind might make him sick, so I invited him back to the hotel. But out of nowhere, he threw swill at me!"

He let out a shuddering breath. "I—I didn’t expect it to spill back on him and I even offered to give him my own clothes! But he—he called me a hypocrite! He blamed me for taking his kidney, for killing his father, for seducing you…"

Jordan clutched her tighter. "He said I ruined his birthday and then he tried to stab me! If I hadn’t dodged in time, Yolanda, you wouldn’t even have me anymore…"

Yolanda turned to me, her eyes dark with contempt.

"Callum, are you seriously throwing a tantrum over your stupid birthday?" She scoffed. "You’re not even gonna live to see another one, so what does it matter?"

Her words hit harder than a punch.

"And your father? He died because he was unlucky. Surgery is always risky. What does that have to do with Jordan?" She gave me a cold, condescending look.

"Even if you killed Jordan, your father wouldn’t come back. And let’s be real—this whole thing had nothing to do with him in the first place."

I couldn’t breathe.

"Why don’t you blame your own kidneys?" she went on. "Your father’s body rejected them, how is that our fault? Now quit being dramatic and apologize to Jordan."

I stared at her, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Yolanda…" My voice was barely above a whisper. "I just want the truth. Tell me, how did my father really die? Did you actually give him my kidney?"

For a split second, something flickered in her expression—annoyance? Guilt? Then she let out an exasperated sigh.

"Of course I did," she said, like I was the biggest idiot in the world. "What else would we have done with your kidney?"