Six months into our marriage, a cargo truck slammed into me. I survived the impact, but I lost my uterus.

Joshua Gilbert, a man who had always dreamed of a large family, held my hand as I drifted in and out of consciousness. He swore he would rather die than leave me.

My father, Marcus Lambert—known throughout the medical world as "Capital City's Number One Scalpel"—promised that with him there, I was safe.

I thanked the heavens. I rejoiced that I had married a good man. After years of wandering, lost from my family as a child, I finally had love. Even the agony of my crushed body faded under their care.

Or so I thought.

The illusion shattered while I lay on a gurney outside the operating room, waiting for surgery. Through the thin gap in the door, voices drifted out.

"Dad, Nina is finally saved." Joshua's voice was crisp, devoid of the trembling grief he'd shown me moments ago. "I checked Serena's premarital medical records. Her heart is perfect. It's a match for Nina."

"Is it safe?"

"Completely. Their blood types match, and with a healthy heart, Nina's follow-up treatment actually has a chance. I'm signing the consent form now."

The scratch of a pen against paper. Then my father's voice, hoarse with suppressed excitement.

"Joshua, make sure the truck driver is handled properly. No loose ends."

"Don't worry, Dad. It's a shame for you, though," Joshua added. "Stuck watching over a barren Serena for the rest of your life."

A long, familiar sigh followed.

"It's fine. As long as Nina lives, that's enough. I can't be with her openly, so I'll protect her this way."

"Stop talking," my father snapped, though his tone was light. "We didn't find Serena just to waste time. This is the day we've been waiting for. Let's start the surgery."

Icy tears slid into the open wounds on my face, stinging like acid.

This love... it was filthy. I didn't want it.

——

As the anesthesia took hold, my eyes fluttered open one last time. Through a haze, I watched my biological father raise the scalpel over my chest. Beside me lay Nina Lambert, the adopted daughter they cherished while I was lost to the world.

"Nina," Marcus whispered tenderly. "Dad kept his promise. Sleep now. When you wake, you'll be whole again."

Darkness swallowed me, accompanied by the phantom sensation of a blade slicing through my chest.

When I woke, I was in a sterile hospital ward.

My first breath was a mistake.

Agony exploded in my chest, drenching me in cold sweat. It felt as though my heart was tearing away from my ribs, dragging my organs with it. A chill ran down my spine, paralyzing me.

I clenched my teeth and tried to inhale again, but an invisible boulder crushed my chest. The air was trapped, refusing to enter or leave.

My vision blurred. My face flushed purple. Just as darkness threatened to claim me, the monitors screamed. Red lights flashed, accompanied by a piercing alarm.

Nurses swarmed in, followed by my parents and my husband.

"Move! Let me through!"

Dad shoved a nurse aside, his face a mask of frantic concern. He began CPR.

He was the expert, after all. Under his hands, the breath trapped in my lungs finally released. Every subsequent inhale felt like swallowing broken glass—a tearing, heart-rending pain—but the suffocation, the terror of imminent death, subsided.

"I'm sorry, Serena." A voice murmured near the bed. "I didn't take good care of you. I shouldn't have let you deliver those documents..."

Warm fingers wrapped around my cold hand. Joshua leaned close, his breath brushing my ear.

"Serena," he whispered, his tone dripping with fabricated devotion. "Dad found complications during the surgery. The accident didn't just take your uterus... it damaged your heart."

He squeezed my hand, eyes glistening with fake tears.

"But don't worry. I love you. I won't give up on you. Dad is the best cardiologist in the city—he'll fix this. Seeing you suffer just now... it nearly killed me."

Joshua's tears were warm against my palm, yet they sent a chill straight through my bones.

I pulled my hand free and forced my lips into a smile. I looked at the three people hovering over my hospital bed—the people who were supposed to be my family.

"It's alright," I rasped. "Nina has suffered from heart disease for years. Now we're truly sisters in suffering. As the eldest, I'll simply endure this alongside her."

"Nina will recover soon."

My mother's voice cut through the air, sharp and immediate. The words hung there, sucking the oxygen from the room. Dead silence followed as her slip-up settled over us.

After a heavy pause, my father sat on the edge of my bed. With practiced gentleness, he pulled me into his embrace.

"Right when I was operating on you, a donor was found for your sister," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Don't worry. Dad saved Nina, and he'll save you the same way. Dad loves you."

"A donor was found exactly while I was in surgery?" I kept my tone light, my head resting against his chest. "What a coincidence."

Under my cheek, his muscles locked up.

"Nina—"

"I'm joking, Dad." I pulled back, offering a hollow smile. "I'm happy for Nina."

The tension snapped. Everyone exhaled at once.

"Serena, Dad still has work to do. You should rest," he said, standing abruptly.

"Go on. Go keep Nina company."

His smile faltered, frozen in place. He opened his mouth, found no words, and left with my mother.

Joshua remained. His gaze followed my parents down the corridor. He shifted his weight, restless, eyes darting toward the door. He looked like a man serving a prison sentence.

I turned my head, my expression faint but permissive.

"You should go too. Treat it as helping me take care of my little sister."

He didn't hesitate. The moment the words left my lips, he vanished.

Watching the three of them flee, I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. I reached for my phone and dialed the international number I'd been holding onto.

"I've decided. I'll join the laboratory."

"You've really thought this through?" The voice was professional, stern. "Once you participate, the protocol is strict. No contact with your family for eight years."

"I've thought it through."

The coordinator agreed. I hung up, and for the first time since waking, peace settled over me.

As the screen went dark, I noticed an icon in the notification bar. The voice recorder was running.

During the accident, or in the chaos of the ambulance, my phone must have been jostled, hitting record. My thumb hovered over the file, trembling. I pressed play.

The audio was clear. It had captured everything—the panic, the orders, the cold-blooded coordination between my father and Joshua before and after my surgery.

Every unbearable conspiracy, documented.

The days dragged on. Joshua came daily, but his body was a shell, his mind elsewhere, eyes constantly checking his watch.

My parents visited too, but their stays were brief—perfunctory check-ins to maintain the charade.

Acting this way for Nina's sake must have been exhausting for them.

Outside my door, the nurses' hushed gossip drifted in. They thought I was asleep, or perhaps they just didn't care.

"Have you heard? The day she got into that accident, the rich young lady's heart just happened to find a donor. Heaven is blind."

"There's no justice. Professor Lambert hasn't worked a real shift in a month—spends all day in Nina's room. And Mr. Gilbert? Running around like her servant. Look at the one in here. Truly pitiful."

"I heard something worse. The hospital imported advanced cardiac medication from abroad. A nurse grabbed a dose for Serena. Professor Lambert slapped her. Confiscated the medicine and used it on Nina the next day."

"But Nina already finished her transplant. What good would it do her now? The patient in here can't sleep from the pain, and nobody cares."

"Don't you get it? They're not withholding medicine to be cruel. They have other intentions. They need a backup."

"A backup?"

"If Nina's recovery fails, they need the sister alive. She isn't a patient to them. She's a blood bag on standby. If you ask me, bringing her back to the family was just to harvest her blood."

Tears, hot and salty, streamed down my face. A stabbing pain radiated from my chest—a physical echo of the betrayal.

I looked at the dry bread in my hand. Forced my mouth open. Took a bite. Then another. I ate it all, choking down the dryness along with my grief.

I had to eat. I had to survive.

One's body is the only thing that truly belongs to oneself. Or so I used to believe.

Two weeks later, Nina and I were discharged on the same day. I was wheeled out, confined to a chair, while Nina—who had supposedly needed a wheelchair daily before—was now running and skipping like a child.

The moment the nurse pushed me toward the Lambert car, Nina stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Serena."

She pointed inside the vehicle, pouting in feigned innocence.

"Since I'm all better now, Dad had that ugly disability seat removed. Sorry, but there's no room for your wheelchair anymore."

I looked past her. Sure enough, the custom interior Father had once spent a fortune importing—specifically designed to accommodate a wheelchair—was gone. In its place was plush upholstery in a garish pink. Nina's favorite color.

The nurse behind me stiffened, gripping the handles in awkward silence.

"Oh, I completely forgot!"

Father hurried over, closing the car door before crouching down in front of me.

"I'm so sorry, Serena. Dad's been swamped lately and it slipped my mind. Tell you what—take the hospital ambulance home today. As soon as I have time, I'll buy you a car of your own. A brand new one."

A faint, humorless smile touched my lips.

"It's fine. No need. I won't be needing it much longer."

"Won't be needing it...?"

Confusion flickered through Father's eyes. "Serena, Dad doesn't understand what you mean."

"Exactly what I said. I simply won't have a use for it."

Joshua stepped forward, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. His touch was warm, but his eyes were unreadable.

"Our Serena is just saying she'll recover soon," he said smoothly. "Once she's well, we won't need wheelchairs or special cars." He turned to Father. "Right, Dad? You'll figure something out for Serena as soon as possible, won't you?"

Father let out a visible sigh of relief, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, of course."

Joshua took the wheelchair handles from the nurse. But before he could turn the chair, Nina rushed up behind him, latching onto his forearm.

"Joshua, I want you to sit with me."

She leaned against him, whining softly. "Sitting in the back with Mom and Dad is so boring. Since Serena can't come with us, you should keep me company. That's fair, isn't it, Brother-in-law?"

Joshua made a show of trying to dislodge her hand, though not hard enough to actually break her grip.

"Don't be difficult, Nina. Your sister isn't feeling well..."

"Go."

I cut him off. I didn't have the energy for their performance. I unlocked the brakes and pushed the wheels forward myself.

"Just go."

As the nurse wheeled me toward the waiting ambulance, I glanced back. Joshua scooped Nina up into his arms and carried her into the car. My parents stood by, beaming, their eyes full of doting affection for their fragile, precious daughter.

I was the only one looking away.

Once the ambulance engine roared to life, my phone buzzed. A message from Joshua.

[Serena, don't misunderstand. Nina has just recovered from a serious illness and her body is still very weak. Our parents are getting old and can't lift her, so I had to help. I'm the only one who could do it.]

I stared at the screen. Weak? She had been jumping around the parking lot moments ago.

[I know.]

I typed the two words and locked the screen. A sharp pain stabbed through my chest, and I pressed my hand against my heart, steadying my breathing. It didn't matter. I would be leaving soon anyway. Playing along with their little theater for a few more days wouldn't kill me.

Or perhaps, it would.

When I arrived at the Lambert estate, I looked up at the familiar facade. A month ago, I had left this house filled with hope, eager to build a life with the people inside. Now, staring at the same walls, a bitter taste filled my mouth. In just a few weeks, everything had changed. The house was the same, but the home was gone.

"Serena..."

Mother approached as the medical staff helped me down from the ambulance. She took my hand, pressing a small red sachet into my palm.

"This is a safety talisman. Mom went to the temple early this morning to pray for it specifically for you. Keep this on you at all times, and you won't encounter any more danger."

She closed my fingers around the fabric, her expression earnest.

"Hurry and take it, Serena. To get this, your mom performed the pilgrimage—three steps, one kneel; five steps, one bow. I've even been fasting for seven days just to ensure it's effective."

I looked down at the red talisman in my hand. A safety charm, from the woman plotting to carve out my heart to save her other daughter. The irony was so sharp it almost drew blood.