chapter 1

In the third year of our marriage, Ethan Martens' first love, Lily, returned to the country and was diagnosed with renal failure.

Late one night, he tossed a cross-match report in front of me, his tone flat. "Sophia, your kidney is a perfect match for Lily's."

"I suggest you sign the consent form yourself. I'll compensate you. Otherwise, I also have the authority to sign it for you."

Three years ago, when I suffered from severe depression, he agreed to marry me. I thought he was my salvation.

But now, I finally understand. His goal was always the power of spousal consent, the authority of a legal guardian!

In his eyes, I am just a suitable kidney source, a backup blood bank ready to extend his beloved's life whenever needed.

But he doesn't know; this vibrant, healthy blood bank he sees is also nearing depletion.

...

I stared at the cross-match report on the coffee table. The bold print stung my eyes.

Ethan loosened his tie and sat on the sofa opposite me. His expression was cold, a trace of impatience etched between his brows. "The doctor said the sooner the surgery, the better."

He announced the outcome directly, leaving no room for discussion. My heart sank instantly to the depths.

Three years. I hadn't waited for his love but for his command.

"What if I firmly refuse?" My voice was soft, carrying a tremor I hadn't even noticed.

Ethan's brow furrowed instantly, as if he'd heard some colossal joke. "Sophia, what right do you have to refuse?"

His voice was as cold as ice. "When you were depressed, I saved your life! For these three years, your food, clothes, everything has been provided by the Martens family!"

"Now, all I'm asking for is one of your kidneys, and you still want to bargain?"

Every word was like a sharp knife, brutally stabbing into my heart.

Three years ago, we met. I had just experienced a tragic accident—my father and stepmother died, our family went bankrupt, and I developed severe depression.

In the freezing snow, I had lost all desire to live.

It was he who draped a coat over my shoulders.

In that moment of despair, it was him who pulled me back. That made me fall deeply in love with him.

Although I never knew why he agreed to marry me, and he remained cold and distant throughout our marriage, I told myself I was willing to do anything for him—washing his clothes, cooking his meals, caring for the elderly, managing the household.

I just kept hoping that one day I could unlock his heart and earn his love!

But today, I finally learned the truth.

In his eyes, our marriage was merely a transaction. What I gained was the status and material comfort of being Mrs. Martens.

What I paid was my dignity, my love, and now, my organs.

A familiar, sharp pain suddenly twisted in my stomach. I instinctively pressed my hand against my abdomen, my face instantly turning pale.

Ethan watched me coldly, his eyes filled with disgust.

"Sophia, stop pretending to be pitiful. Put away those tactics you use to gain sympathy."

My hands clutched the fabric of my clothes, nails digging deep into my palms, yet I felt no physical pain. The agony in my heart had numbed all other sensation.

I lifted my head and met his icy gaze. "Ethan, that is a part of my body."

"It's not your personal property. You can't decide its fate."

Ethan slowly stood up. He walked towards me step by step, his tall figure casting a massive, oppressive shadow.

He leaned down, gripping my chin with a force that felt like it would shatter my bones. "I can't decide?"

He let out a cold laugh, bringing his lips close to my ear. "Sophia, you'd better understand your position clearly."

"You are my wife. Everything you have is mine. Including your life."

Having said that, he released me, straightened up, and looked down at me as if I were an insect.

"Don't forget, three years ago you were dying from depression—an orphan with a mental illness! I saved your life. I am your husband, your guardian. Without me, you are nothing!"

"My asking you to sign is me allowing you to keep some dignity. Otherwise, I will sign for you."

"Be ready to go to the hospital tomorrow at 9 AM."

With that, he turned and left, without a trace of hesitation.

The door slammed shut with a loud 'bang,' the sound vibrating through the entire room.

It also shattered my last remaining illusion.

I collapsed onto the sofa, my entire body cold, the cramping in my stomach growing more intense.

I fumbled in my bag for my medicine bottle, shook out a few white pills, and swallowed them dry without water.

The bitter taste spread from my tongue to my heart. I curled up on the sofa like an abandoned puppy.

Tears, finally, slid down my cheeks silently.

So, it wasn't a stone that couldn't be warmed.

It was a heart that had never held a place for me in the first place.

Tomorrow at 9 AM. He had issued his final ultimatum.

What should I do?

My body couldn't afford to lose any more organs.

But my resistance, in his eyes, was nothing but a joke.

The night was long.

And very, very cold.