Born As Kidney Donor For My Sister

Seeing the fearless woman in ont of me, I laughed even louder.

Stepping closer, I lightly patted her face twice. On the third, Jamie grabbed my wrist.

“Ellen, don’t push it,” Jamie warned, his eyes flashing with menace.

I glanced at Gavin, feigning innocence. “Is it too much?”

Gavin shook his head. “Not at all. After all, she stole your man.”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

So, I was the victim here–one was my fiancé with whom I hadn’t broken the engagement, and the other was my fiancé’s so–called fiancée.

The situation couldn’t be more complicated.

“Jamie, don’t forget, our engagement hasn’t been officially canceled. Isn’t it even more outrageous for you to publicly claim this woman as your fiancée?”

Jamie’s eyes darkened, his voice hushed. “Our engagement has been null for five years.”

He looked directly at me. “You didn’t know? When The Riley family went bankrupt, your father was involved too.”

I didn’t believe it. “Then why did my father still help you?”

He smirked, lowering his head. “It was just a game of cat and mouse. Everyone in your family, The Harrises, is on the same page. Didn’t you also try to drag my father through the mud?”

How could he read my mind?

In the end, things escalated into a confrontation.

I sat on the sofa, watching coldly.

Jamie was being beaten to the ground by bodyguards, blood trickling from his mouth, a gash on his forehead.

Sylvia was cowering under him, her only actions being cries and pleas for mercy.

I detest weak women, especially those who cry and whine.

Jamie was carried out, and Gavin, showing his rare kindness, arranged for him to be taken to the hospital.

As he left, he glanced back at me. Our eyes met, and I felt a sudden jolt.

The shattered look in his eyes, his disheveled hair, and the bloodied, sinister smile on his lips. were intoxicating.

It reminded me of our senior year in high school when we teamed up to beat up a bully.

I cheered him on from the sidelines, and he, inspired, grew increasingly fierce.

Back then, I thought, this man is wild and exactly my type.

Years have passed, and his wildness has been deliberately hidden, replaced, restraint and control.

I wanted to reclaim the man who once made my heart race. I refused to believe he had truly disappeared.

The youthful thrill of attraction always comes with a strong sense of unwillingness.

But this unwillingness soon transformed into tangible anger.