They Chose Her Over Me, So I Chose Their Uncle

I stared at them in disbelief.

“I’ve been sickly since I was a child,” I said hoarsely. “The medications, the injections—I barely made it here alive. Have you forgotten all that?”

They knew. They had watched me suffer for years. How could they decide something so invasive for me—without my consent?

Daniel and Andrew looked away briefly, guilt flickering across their faces. But they pressed forward regardless.

“If you hadn’t pushed Chloe out of jealousy, she never would’ve gotten sick in the first place,” Andrew snapped. “This donation—it’s how you make amends.”

“And don’t worry,” Daniel added, “even if your health declines, we’ll take good care of you.”

Before I could say another word, they forced me into the operating room.

I was strapped down.

Numbness crawled through my limbs as the anesthesia kicked in. Just before everything went black, a memory surfaced—a foolish promise we had once made in childhood.

“If you break your vow,” they had said, “you’ll lose your love forever.”

How ridiculous.

I was the only one who ever meant it.

But fine. If this was what it took to repay the Whitmore family for raising me, then so be it.

From now on, I had nothing to do with them.

When I woke up, the hospital room was silent.

Empty.

A nurse came in to check my IV and change the dressing on my arm. She sighed sympathetically.

“There’s a patient on the top floor—pregnant, lucky girl. Two handsome men at her bedside, round the clock. They’ve taken over the whole ward. Doctors on standby from every department.”

She gave me a pitiful look.

“Unlike you. Out cold for three days and not a single person came to visit.”

Three days. I had been unconscious for that long.

Noticing my face paling, the nurse quickly finished up and left without another word.

Moments later, the Whitmores arrived.

Demi stepped into the room, her expression tight with sorrow.

“You poor child,” she murmured. “You’ve suffered. I’ll take you home the day after tomorrow.”

So she knew. She had learned everything.

I looked at her—this elegant, powerful woman who’d once made me feel like family—and saw genuine sadness in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” I told her quietly. “It’s my debt to the Whitmores. I owed it.”

She sat with me for a while before quietly excusing herself.

After she left, the silence returned. Heavy. Crushing.

Then the door burst open.

Andrew and Daniel stormed in. Without hesitation, they yanked me out of the bed.

“You’ve really changed, haven’t you?” Andrew growled. “Running off to tattle on us to your precious aunt and grandmother?”

My body hadn't healed and the sudden pull tore at the surgical wound. I cried out in pain.

“She yelled at Chloe,” Daniel snapped, “and you—what did you do? You used it to get closer to our grandmother. Trying to replace your own family, are you?”

Andrew grabbed my neck and squeezed hard.

“You want Chloe’s baby gone so you can win favor and glory? That’s your play?”

“I… I didn’t…” I choked out, barely able to breathe.

Daniel finally pulled him off me.

“That’s enough,” he muttered. “Don’t forget why we came.”

He grabbed my arm and flung me aside like trash.

“The doctor says Chloe’s condition is still unstable. You’ll have to donate more bone marrow. And your hand…”

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as he looked at me lying there, gasping.

“Chloe’s always wanted to be an artist,” he said quietly. “But thanks to your little shove, her hand’s ruined. You’ll need to make it right.”

A chill ran through me.

I lifted my head slowly. “What are you going to do?”

Andrew’s brows twitched and for a moment, there was hesitation in his eyes.

Then he nodded once at the bodyguard behind him.

Without speaking, the guard stepped forward, seized my wrist and with one brutal stomp, shattered the bones in my hand.

The scream tore out of me before I could stop it.

“No—my hand—!”