Faking Poverty to Steal My Kidney? Enjoy Your Ruin!

Hearing those words, my heart shattered. My body couldn't stop shaking. Just then, the doctor walked up to Tristan Vance respectfully and reported: "Mr. Vance, as you requested, we have successfully transplanted Clara Davis's kidney to Miss Blair Montgomery. The surgery was a complete success." Tristan couldn't hide his joy. This man, usually so composed, actually ran down the hallway toward Blair’s private room. The loan shark watched him leave, cast a contemptuous glance at my ward, and spoke to his thug. "Mr. Vance really loves Miss Montgomery. Normally, if she just gets a scratch, he loses his mind. A major surgery like a kidney transplant must have worried him sick. But his little hostess girlfriend is miserable. She gave up a kidney for absolutely nothing." "Exactly, Leo. The girl is pregnant. But Mr. Vance was so cold. He ordered us to make sure she didn't die before the surgery, but that was it. No mercy at all." "For a rich heir like Mr. Vance, women are disposable. Why would he care about a club hostess?" Their words pierced through the thin wall, entering my ears with brutal clarity. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. I forced myself to stay conscious through the searing pain. Once the hallway went quiet, I dragged my weak, aching body toward the room Tristan had run into. A small, pathetic part of me was still hoping. Hoping that what I just heard was a nightmare. I peered through the small window of the private suite. The reality slapped me in the face. We had the surgery on the same day. Blair was in a luxurious, private suite. I was in a crowded, noisy six-person ward. It was painfully clear who mattered to him. Inside, Tristan was holding Blair, who was whimpering about the pain. He gently wiped the sweat from her forehead, his eyes filled with pure heartache. "What are those doctors doing? I told them to use the best painkillers. Useless bastards. Don't worry, Blair. I know how much you care about your looks. I won't let this surgery leave a scar. Come on, let's eat something first, okay?" I subconsciously touched my own face. All I felt were thick, rough bandages covering my wounds. Since childhood, everyone had praised my beauty. When Tristan first met me, he said I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Did he still remember that? Did he remember that I also cared about my looks? Tristan gently blew on a spoonful of warm oatmeal, coaxing the picky Blair to eat, carefully wiping her lips. I suddenly remembered a time when I had a high fever. I hadn't had a drop of water all day. When I called Tristan, he simply said he was working late and ordered me takeout. Back then, I felt so bad for making him worry during his busy work hours. I was so happy just to get that cheap takeout. It turned out he knew how to take care of someone. He just didn't want to waste it on me. Their intimacy burned my eyes. As I turned to leave, the door suddenly swung open.

I froze, bumping right into Tristan. I thought he would recognize me, but his eyes held nothing but raw disgust. "This is a private wing. What are you sneaking around here for? The hospital security needs to be fired. Letting random trash wander up here." I gasped. Then I realized my face was completely wrapped in bandages due to the injuries from the loan shark attack. Tristan didn't recognize me. But this also meant he hadn't visited my room even once since the surgery. I had wondered if he would panic if I caught him. Now, his cold gaze gave me the ultimate answer. The hospital security guards arrived and escorted me back to my crowded ward. Tristan didn't give me another glance. He turned back to comfort Blair, promising her that this "annoyance" wouldn't happen again. Back in my bed, the nurse gasped. She realized that my sudden movement had ripped my surgical stitches, and blood was soaking through my gown. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. It wasn't until evening, when it was time to change my dressings, that Tristan finally showed up. He had changed into patient scrubs. Seeing my bandaged face, he frowned and asked with feigned concern: "Clara, you've been through so much, and you gave your kidney to save me. How is your body? Is the baby okay?" I instinctively placed my hand over my stomach and shook my head. "The baby is fine." "You haven't eaten all day, right? I scraped together the last of my savings and bought you something from a nice restaurant." He opened a bag with an air of sacrifice, showing me steak and lobster. These were luxuries I could never afford during our three years together. I looked down. "These are so expensive. Why did you spend so much money?" "You sacrificed your kidney for me. Of course I need to feed you the best to help you recover. Besides, I promised you we’d eat like this every day in the future. You won’t have to suffer anymore." His lies were still so smooth, so convincing. If this were the old me, I would have been so moved that I wouldn't eat a single bite. I would have begged him to return it just to save a few dollars. But now, I just stared at the food in silence. Because on the steak, there was a visible bite mark. Blair's bite mark. I touched my stomach. Driven by a mix of rage and despair, I grabbed a piece of the untouched meat with my bare hands and stuffed it into my mouth. To pay off his fake debts, I hadn't had a proper meal in years. I lived on cheap crackers and tap water. I had forgotten how good real food tasted. As I swallowed, I sucked the grease off my fingers, and tears finally spilled over. Tristan looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. He reached out to grab the box away. "Stop eating!" I let out a bitter laugh. "Why? Didn't you buy this for me?" Tristan lowered his eyes, suddenly pulling me into a tight hug. "I... I just feel guilty that I couldn't provide this for you sooner." But I didn't miss the disgust that flashed in his eyes before he hugged me. Once the veil of lies was lifted, every ugly detail became blindingly obvious. After the meal, the nurse walked in to remind Tristan to pay the hospital bills. Tristan went quiet for a moment. "Clara, I'm so sorry. I... I can't afford the ward fees right now..." I kept my head down, staring at his polished leather shoes. I had searched them online. Those handmade shoes cost tens of thousands of dollars. Blair had gifted them to him in her room earlier. He noticed where I was looking and quickly pulled me closer, gripping my shoulders so hard it hurt. He realized his reaction was too defensive and tried to soften his tone. "Sorry, Clara. I didn't mean to squeeze so hard. Oh, these shoes? The guy sharing my ward didn't want them anymore. They looked brand new, so I took them. Do they look alright?" Did he really think I was stupid enough to believe such a pathetic lie? "They look great," I whispered. "Just like brand new."

After we were discharged and went back to our rented apartment, Tristan's impatience grew day by day because he had to "take care" of me. Remembering how he once promised to cherish me forever, I wanted to laugh. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Tristan opened it, and Blair, who had somehow found our address, skipped inside and threw herself into Tristan's arms. Tristan’s face softened instantly into pure adoration. He held her tightly, terrified she might fall. "Oh! You must be Tristan’s girlfriend. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!" "Tristan and I grew up together. I heard he was hurt, and I was so worried that I just had to come. You don't mind, do you?" Seeing my silence, Blair’s eyes welled with tears. "Did I ruin things? If you don't like me here, I’ll just leave..." Tristan immediately shielded her behind his back, snapping at me for the first time in public. "Why are you throwing a tantrum? Do you have any idea how much you're hurting Blair's feelings?" "It's okay, Tristan. Maybe she's just in a bad mood. Tristan, I'm hungry. Can you make me that warm sweet oatmeal you always make?" Blair cooed. They played their roles perfectly, painting me as the bitter villain without me saying a single word. Tristan tapped Blair's nose gently. "Alright, my little princess. Go sit down. I'll make your favorite." Tristan went into the kitchen. This man, who had always claimed he didn't know how to cook to get out of doing chores, prepared the oatmeal with practiced ease. He had clearly done it hundreds of times. I had loved him so much that I never let him touch a frying pan after his long workdays. Once, when I playfully asked him to cook for me, he made excuses and dumped a cup of instant noodles in front of me. I had laughed it off back then. Now, I couldn't even force a smile. Blair smirked and walked over to me. She suddenly grabbed my hand. I frowned and tried to pull away, but she used the momentum to throw herself onto the floor. Hearing the crash, Tristan rushed out of the kitchen. His face darkened instantly, and he violently shoved me aside. He used all his strength. My body was still incredibly weak from the surgery. I lost my balance and crashed hard into the glass coffee table. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through my abdomen. My lips trembled, but I couldn't make a sound. "Clara! Even if you hate me, you shouldn't have pushed me! I would have left if you just asked..." Blair sobbed on the floor. "You've gone too far! Do you know Blair just had major surgery?!" Tristan roared. The mask of the loving boyfriend was completely gone, replaced by raw disgust. I lay collapsed against the broken glass. A warm, terrifying wetness began to seep between my thighs. "Call 911... the baby..." I gasped. But before I could finish, Tristan had already scooped Blair up in his arms and was rushing out the door to the hospital. Blair looked over his shoulder, flashing me a victorious, wicked grin. She mouthed three words: "Go. Die. Now."