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Spare Part Wife: Liver For His Mistress

Chapter 7 No.7

Word Count: 711 | Released on: 22/01/2026

t. A long mahogany table se

woman with glasses on a cha

icense from her wallet and

looke

a L

s?-at the name. But then his eyes fell on the signature li

re," the lawyer instructed, poin

n. Her hand was stead

ch. S

with a clear, defian

he papers to

he last three years. He had never noticed she still thought of herself this way, a

ignature line. He hesitated for a frac

ay married and still do the surgery

die," Jada

but they carried the

his name. The scratching sou

l file with the court immediately. But until the judge signs the final decree, you are,

yet strangely empty. Like a heliu

reminded her, slipping back into business mode

. I keep my wo

leave. "Good

ked to

nal urge to stop her. To grab

ruptly. "I'll

said without

ist,"

er. Harrison

busy midtown street. The noise of the c

flashbulbs

Pop

waiting at the curb.

t true about

ly donating your li

ere! Lo

nd to shield Jada's face. "Back of

imousine pulled

. She had ca

ow of the lim

th large, doe-like eyes that seemed

Lawr

ild. "It's her! It's

idn't look at the cameras. S

u didn't answer! I tracked your p

offering a fragi

da. You loo

n his ex-wife and his dying first love

doing here?" Darius a

nded a thin hand. "Get in. Let's have a thank-you din

a dry, humorless so

Darius flinch. She clutched her chest. "It might be my

leaded with her. Don't make a sce

tretched hand. She looked a

da said. "

bed into

Chapter End

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Spare Part Wife: Liver For His Mistress

Gale Kaaya Modern

“I wore my favorite emerald silk dress to Per Se, thinking our third anniversary would finally be the night Darius came back to me. My heart was pounding with hope, but the moment he covered the rim of my champagne glass with a cold, marble-like hand, that hope died. He didn't bring a gift; he brought a personal assistant and a medical consent form. His ex-girlfriend, Hazel, was dying of liver failure, and I was the only compatible match they had found in the world. The realization hit me like a physical blow: he hadn't married me for love, but for a "harvest." When I screamed that I wasn't a spare part, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he threatened to pull the funding for my grandmother's Alzheimer's care, holding the only family I had left hostage to save his "one who got away." He locked me in our penthouse under a high-tech security protocol, guarded by private contractors like a prisoner in a gilded cage. While I was trapped, he was at the hospital holding Hazel's hand, wearing the Patek Philippe watch I'd bought him for his birthday. I watched their updates on social media, Hazel tagging him as her "hero" and "true love," while I was left alone in the dark. Darius told his lawyers I was just being "dramatic" and that I'd get over it once the settlement check cleared. Every memory of our three years together felt like a long-term investment in an organ transplant. How could I have been so blind? How could the man who promised to cherish me turn into a monster who only saw me as a regenerating asset? I stopped fighting and started calculating. I agreed to the surgery on one condition: a signed divorce decree and an ironclad trust for my grandmother that he could never touch. I refused his millions, took back my maiden name, and walked into that hospital with my head held high. I was giving them the piece of me they wanted, but it was the last thing they would ever take. As the elevator doors closed on Darius's desperate face, I knew that when I woke up, I would finally be free.”