After His Mistress Crashed Into Me, He Asked for My Kidney

My head throbbed with a dull, heavy rhythm. I opened my eyes to a stark white ceiling. The smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol burned my nose. A heart monitor beeped somewhere to my left, the sound piercing my aching skull.

I tried to shift my weight, but a sharp, blinding pain shot through my ribs. I gasped. The memories hit me in a violent rush. The screeching tires. The smell of burning rubber. The silver Porsche crossing the center line and slamming directly into my driver’s side door.

Daniella’s car.

I took a shallow, trembling breath. My lower back ached. Without thinking, my thumb drifted down to press against the faint, hidden scar under my hospital gown. It was a habit I did whenever I was stressed.

Footsteps paused outside my room. Voices drifted through the crack in the heavy privacy curtain.

"Her vitals are stabilizing," a man’s voice said. A doctor. "But Mr. Sullivan, the ethics of this are highly questionable. She just survived a severe trauma."

"I understand the risks, Doctor," another voice replied.

My breath hitched. Kaleb. My boyfriend of eight years. The man I had loved with every fiber of my being.

"Daniella’s kidneys are failing," Kaleb continued. His voice was smooth, calm, and utterly detached. "Olivia is a perfect match. I just need to know if the surgery can be scheduled once she’s cleared."

"She has to consent," the doctor warned.

"She will," Kaleb said confidently. "Leave that to me."

The world stopped spinning. It just froze. My chest tightened, not from the bruised ribs, but from a sudden, suffocating hollow ache. He wanted my kidney. For the woman who had just run me off the road.

The curtain pulled back. Kaleb stepped into the room. He wore his tailored navy suit, looking completely out of place in the sterile room. His dark hair was perfectly styled. He paused to straighten his silver cufflinks before walking to my bed. He didn't look like a man whose girlfriend had almost died. He looked like a CEO about to close a difficult merger.

"You're awake," he said softly. He pulled a plastic chair close and sat down. He reached out and took my hand. I let it lie limp in his warm grip.

"How are you feeling, Liv?"

I stared at his face. The strong jaw, the dark eyes. The face I had kissed a thousand times. The face I had secretly bled for on an operating table years ago. "Like I got hit by a car," I rasped.

He sighed. A practiced, patient sigh. "It was an accident. Daniella lost control of the wheel. She's in bad shape, Olivia. Her kidneys are shutting down."

I said nothing. I just watched him. I watched his eyes. There was no worry for me in them. Only an urgent, restless energy.

He reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, black velvet box. He flipped it open. A massive diamond caught the harsh fluorescent light, throwing