Chapter 1: The Crash That Changed Everything

Two weeks before the wedding, I wrecked my car.

That memory is still sharp—jagged, even. Like the screech of metal against pavement. I swear, I can still feel the cold burst of the airbag, the coppery tang in my mouth, the way time just... slowed, everything spinning out of control. One minute I was running through wedding vows in my head—next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, staring up at the ambulance lights, my whole life veering off course in a blink.

The surgery went okay, I guess, but then the doctor told me something I never expected: turns out, I was born with only one kidney.

It was the kind of news that just doesn’t land at first. I remember lying there, groggy from the anesthesia, listening to the doctor explain in that careful, practiced way. Only one kidney? Me? No way. I’d played high school football, passed every physical, never a hint that something was missing. But it was real—a hole in me I never even knew existed. I blinked, tried to process. No way. Couldn’t be.

After my wealthy fiancée found out, she went and married Chicago’s golden boy, Harrison Chu—on our wedding day, no less.

Mariah’s family always had their sights set on the top of the social ladder. As soon as she heard about my so-called defect, she didn’t even hesitate before bailing. Our wedding invitations had barely hit the mailbox before she was strutting down the aisle with Harrison, all pearls and perfect teeth, like I’d never even been there. The news blew up every group chat and local gossip column—because nothing gets people talking like a scandal with designer gowns and million-dollar venues.

I tumbled out of bed to the sound of nurses laughing at me.

The pain in my side was nothing compared to how much the humiliation stung. Their laughter bounced off the linoleum, echoing in my ears as I scrambled to get up, my hospital gown all twisted and awkward. It felt like the whole world was watching me fall apart, and nobody cared enough to help. God, I just wanted to vanish right there under those harsh hospital lights.

That’s when Savannah Lee—my childhood friend—showed up. Thanks to the way she looked after me, I started to recover, bit by bit.

Savannah had always been the steady one—the friend who’d show up with soup and corny jokes when you needed her most. She didn’t even flinch at the mess I’d become. She just rolled up her sleeves, shooed the gawkers away, and parked herself by my bed, day after day. She brought books, played old songs on her phone, and talked about everything but what I’d lost. With her there, I started to think maybe, just maybe, I could heal. Maybe life could keep going.

The day I was discharged, she knelt in the hallway and proposed to me—with 99 sets of house keys. I said yes.

I can still see her, kneeling in that sterile hallway, duffel bag at her feet, keys jingling like a promise. "Ethan Harper," she said, her voice shaking just a little, "I wanted to give you a hundred homes, but I could only find ninety-nine. Will you help me build the last one?" The nurses peeked around the corner—some smirking, some rolling their eyes—but I didn’t care. Her hope was contagious. I nodded, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something like peace. Maybe this was how you start over.

But later, I overheard a conversation between Savannah and her mom.

That afternoon, the house was weirdly quiet—the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl. I was walking past the den when I heard their voices: low, urgent, full of secrets. I stopped in the hallway, heart pounding, a chill running down my spine as I listened.

"Honey, you’ve been married for two years and still haven’t gotten pregnant. Honestly, you never should have arranged that car accident back then. And it wasn’t just the accident—you even had the doctor remove his kidney. How can a man without a kidney have kids? This is making me so anxious."

The words hit like a punch straight to the gut. I couldn’t breathe. My brain scrambled to make sense of it. Arranged the accident? Had the doctor take my kidney? My knees went weak, and I pressed my hand to the wall, trying to stay upright, barely daring to breathe.

Savannah laughed—a light, almost musical sound, but her words were pure ice. "Mom, I had to have his kidney removed. That was the only way his fiancée would dump him, so I could marry him, and Harrison could finally be with the girl he loves. Everybody wins, isn’t that great?"

Her laugh was bright, almost sweet, but her words were razor-sharp. I could picture her, twirling a lock of hair, her eyes dancing with mischief. Only now, I realized that glint was something else—something cold, dangerous. My stomach turned. Sweat broke out along my back.

"As for the baby... I’m already pregnant with Harrison’s. Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make sure the family keeps going."

The room spun. Pregnant—with Harrison’s kid? My hands shook, and I clamped my fist over my mouth to keep from making a sound. The betrayal was so total, so offhand, it barely felt real. But I could hear the pride in her voice, the certainty. She’d planned every move, and I’d been too blind to see any of it.

A cold chill crawled through me, and the wound on my abdomen flared with pain.

I doubled over, clutching my side, the old scar throbbing like someone had just torn it open again. The floor was freezing against my skin, the heartbreak mixing with the raw ache. Every breath felt like shards of glass. I’d never felt so alone—or so stupid.

After that, I made a call.

My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped my phone. I scrolled through my contacts, found the number I’d always hoped I’d never use, and hit call. My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but steady. I’d made up my mind.

"I need you to fake my death. One week from today."

Inside the room, Savannah’s mom was still whispering to her.

Their voices drifted through the cracked door, low and full of secrets. I pressed my ear closer, heart pounding, desperate to catch every word. The betrayal went deep, but I had to know just how deep it ran.

"I know what you mean, but this is risky. Bribing the doctor should’ve been enough. Why go so far?"

Her tone was anxious, but not sorry. The kind of worry that’s more about getting caught than about guilt. I pictured her wringing her hands, glancing at the door, always calculating the odds.

Savannah’s reply was soft, but her words were ice-cold.

"I wanted him to be really incomplete, to feel less than, to feel guilty toward me, so he’d treat me right for the rest of his life."

There was pride in her voice—a twisted satisfaction. I could almost see her face: calm, collected, certain she’d done the right thing. The kind of person who never doubts herself, no matter who gets hurt. God, she was good.

Her mom let out a long sigh, shaking her head.

It was a sigh that seemed to fill the room, heavy and tired. I could almost see her giving up, resigned to whatever Savannah wanted. In their world, love and loyalty were just chips to trade for security and status.

"My daughter’s grown up. I can’t control you anymore. Do what you want, but you have to keep this baby!"

There it was—the bottom line. It was never about me, or even Savannah. It was always about the family, the legacy, the next generation. I felt sick, like their expectations were bricks on my chest.

Savannah just smiled. "Don’t worry, Mom."

Her words were so breezy, so sure, it made my skin crawl. I could hear the smile in her voice, the promise that everything would be fine—as long as she got what she wanted. The casual cruelty almost impressed me.

They kept up their act as the perfect mother and daughter, and I felt my blood run cold.

Their laughter floated down the hall, sweet and sharp as poisoned honey. I stood there, frozen, every muscle tight. The world I thought I knew was gone, replaced by something colder. I realized I’d been living in a story written by someone else—I was just a prop.

I pinched myself hard, desperate for this to be just a nightmare.

The pain was real—sharp, immediate. I dug my nails into my palm, wishing I could wake up, go back to my old life. But the ache in my side, the sting of betrayal—they were all too real. No waking up from this.

The pain spread, making my old scar throb and swell beneath the bandage.

I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling the heat and swelling under the dressing. Every heartbeat sent a jolt of pain through me, like my body was screaming—run, get out, don’t look back. But I just stood there, stunned.

***

Two years ago, my fiancée was still Mariah Quinn.

Back then, everything seemed simple. Mariah and I were the golden couple—everyone said so. Our families mingled at charity galas, our engagement photos were everywhere online, every detail of our wedding planned down to the last flower. I thought I knew what happiness was. Turns out, I was just a bit player in someone else’s drama.

That day, after leaving the bridal shop, I crashed my car.

We’d spent the afternoon bickering over napkin colors and guest lists. I remember glancing at Mariah in the passenger seat, her face lit by her phone as she texted her mom. I never saw the other car coming. The impact was sudden, brutal, and everything just went black.

When I woke up, I was surrounded by Quinn family relatives, all staring at me with pity.

Their faces hovered over me, a blur of concern and disappointment. I caught the whispers—"such a shame," "so young," "what’s Mariah going to do now?" The pity felt suffocating—a reminder I’d let everyone down without even knowing how.

The doctor shook his head, looking grave.

He stood at the foot of my bed, white coat crisp, expression heavy. "I’m sorry, Mr. Harper," he said quietly. "There were complications during surgery. We found something unexpected."

"Your accident caused abdominal bleeding. We performed surgery, but during the operation, we discovered you were born with only one kidney..."

The words just hung there. I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, for someone to laugh and say it was all a mistake. But all I saw was the pity in his eyes, and the apology he couldn’t quite say out loud.

I was stunned. I’d had checkups my whole life, and no one ever told me I was missing a kidney.

I replayed every physical, every sports exam, every doctor’s visit. Nothing out of the ordinary. I wanted to believe it was a mistake, that maybe someone mixed up the charts, but the truth was right there in front of me.

I kept asking the doctor if he was sure, if there’d been a mix-up.

My voice shook, desperate. "Are you sure? Could this be a mistake? Maybe you missed something?" I clung to the hope that there was still a way out—that this was just a bad dream.

But he handed me the ultrasound, clear as day—one kidney, my name, Ethan Harper, in the corner.

The image was grainy, but the evidence was right there. My name, the date, everything lined up. The doctor’s face was unreadable, but he’d clearly seen this kind of denial before. He patted my shoulder, trying to comfort me, but it just made me feel smaller.

He shook his head. "Mr. Harper, the reason it wasn’t found before is probably because your one kidney is much larger than normal. At a glance, it looked like you had two."

He tried to explain, gentle but firm. "It’s rare, but it happens. Your remaining kidney has compensated—it’s actually really healthy. You can live a normal life, but..." He trailed off, letting the rest hang in the air. But your life will never be the same.

Mariah’s mother cut him off, impatient.

She stepped forward, heels clicking, voice sharp. "Alright, Ethan, I’m sorry. Our family can’t accept a son-in-law with a physical defect. The wedding is off."

Her words landed like a gavel. I looked at Mariah, searching for any sign she’d fight for me, but she just looked away, lips pressed tight.

"Actually, Mariah was originally engaged to Harrison Chu, but she insisted on marrying you, which disappointed the Chu family. I guess fate has its own plans; Mariah is meant to marry Harrison."

The way she said it, I was just a backup plan—a temporary distraction until something better came along. The last bit of hope drained out of me, replaced by a cold, empty ache.

My eyes burned and I reached for Mariah.

I stretched out my hand, desperate to grab hold of something—anything. But Mariah wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her eyes flicked to her mom, then the floor. She was already gone.

But she always listened to her mother, wouldn’t look at me, and slipped away.

She turned, her dress whispering against the floor, and vanished down the hall. I wanted to call after her, to beg her to stay, but the words stuck in my throat. All I could do was watch her go.

Desperate, I tried to get out of bed to talk to her, but I fell to the floor.

Pain hit instantly. I crashed down, my body weak and unsteady. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling helpless.

The nurse covered her mouth, laughing at me.

Her laughter was muffled but clear. I caught the glint in her eyes, the way she whispered to her coworker. I’d never felt so small, so utterly humiliated.

Right then, Savannah squeezed through the crowd and helped me up.

She pushed past everyone, face flushed with anger. "Give him some space!" she snapped, glaring at the nurse. Her hands were gentle as she helped me sit up, her touch warm and steady. In that moment, she was the only person who cared if I stood or fell.

"The thing I hate most is snobs!"

She said it loud, voice ringing with conviction. The room went quiet, the air heavy with embarrassment. I couldn’t help but smile, even through the pain. Savannah was always a fighter.

She drove everyone out of the room.

One by one, the gawkers shuffled out, muttering. Savannah stood at the door, arms crossed, until the last one was gone. Only then did she turn back to me, her expression softening.

After that, she stayed by my side every day—caring for me, encouraging me, comforting me.

She brought homemade meals, sat with me through endless therapy, and never once made me feel less than whole. She told stories about our childhood, reminded me of things I’d forgotten. Her presence soothed wounds I didn’t even know I had.

When I was discharged, she knelt in front of me with 99 property deeds, looking up at me with sincerity. "Ethan Harper, we’ve been childhood sweethearts. I’ve loved you since I first knew what love was, but then you fell for Mariah, and I couldn’t ruin your happiness. I waited for you. I don’t care about your condition. Ethan, will you marry me?"

The sight of her on one knee, surrounded by a pile of paperwork, was almost funny. But her eyes were shining, hands trembling as she held out the keys. For the first time in ages, I felt truly seen—not for what I’d lost, but for who I was. I took her hands and nodded, voice thick. "Yes, Savannah. Yes."