My Kidney, His Cruel Joke

My Kidney, His Cruel Joke

Moria Anninger

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The dull, constant throb in my side was a painful reminder of the jagged scar hidden beneath my sweater, a small price for the five hundred thousand dollars in my duffel bag-every dime of my savings, every penny from selling all I owned, and the rest from selling a kidney. All of it was for Ethan, who desperately needed treatment tonight. But when I arrived at the luxurious lounge he' d named, "The Gilded Cage," I overheard his voice, rich with amusement, not weak or strained, telling his friends that the "struggling musician" act and fake cancer diagnosis were pure genius to con me into selling a kidney. The world tilted as I realized our two-year love was a meticulously crafted hoax. My sacrifice was for their entertainment. My hand went slack, and the duffel bag, filled with the price of my body, slipped to the plush carpet. I fled to the nearest restroom, the betrayal a raging fire. My hands, meant to heal, had helped destroy me. I looked at the crude bandage under my sweater, a symbol of self-inflicted wounds for a lie. He didn' t need fixing; broken me. The shock gave way to cold rage. They wouldn' t win. They wouldn' t destroy me. As Ethan found me in the restroom, feigning worry about the money, I met his gaze, my voice steady, saying, "Yes, Ethan, I have it. It' s all for you." I would play his game, but this time, I knew the rules.

Introduction

The dull, constant throb in my side was a painful reminder of the jagged scar hidden beneath my sweater, a small price for the five hundred thousand dollars in my duffel bag-every dime of my savings, every penny from selling all I owned, and the rest from selling a kidney. All of it was for Ethan, who desperately needed treatment tonight.

But when I arrived at the luxurious lounge he' d named, "The Gilded Cage," I overheard his voice, rich with amusement, not weak or strained, telling his friends that the "struggling musician" act and fake cancer diagnosis were pure genius to con me into selling a kidney.

The world tilted as I realized our two-year love was a meticulously crafted hoax. My sacrifice was for their entertainment. My hand went slack, and the duffel bag, filled with the price of my body, slipped to the plush carpet. I fled to the nearest restroom, the betrayal a raging fire.

My hands, meant to heal, had helped destroy me. I looked at the crude bandage under my sweater, a symbol of self-inflicted wounds for a lie. He didn' t need fixing; broken me.

The shock gave way to cold rage. They wouldn' t win. They wouldn' t destroy me. As Ethan found me in the restroom, feigning worry about the money, I met his gaze, my voice steady, saying, "Yes, Ethan, I have it. It' s all for you." I would play his game, but this time, I knew the rules.

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I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.

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