The Womb They Stole

Three years ago, the night before my wedding, I was kidnapped and nearly killed.

When I woke up, Julian was crying over me. "The kidnappers hurt you so badly, Elsie. The doctors—they had to remove your uterus to save you. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

My world shattered.

I cried for a week straight. Cried until I had no voice left, until my eyes couldn't open from the swelling. I'd lost everything—my chance at motherhood, my chance at being whole.

But Julian squeezed my hand. "I love you, Elsie. You're all I need."

He married me anyway. Against his family's wishes, he married this broken woman.

For three years, he was perfect. Gentle. Loving. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive.

Until today.

Today, I learned the truth—

There was no kidnapping. No random attack.

It was all planned. Orchestrated by Julian himself.

For one reason only—to give my uterus to Chloe, my sister who was born unable to have children.

Elsie's POV

I gripped my phone tight, the truth on the screen turning my stomach.

This perfect marriage was nothing but an elaborate lie.

I closed my eyes in agony. The scar across my abdomen throbbed. Three years. I'd been a fool for three whole years.

"Hey babe, you're still awake?"

Julian wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting in the crook of my neck. "You've been glued to that phone for hours."

I froze. Every muscle in my body tensed. I quickly locked the screen and forced a smile. "It's nothing. Just tired."

"Then get some rest." He kissed my forehead. "I made you some herbal tea. Drink it before bed. You need to keep your strength up—we have another blood draw in a few days."

Keep my strength up.

So I could keep being my twin sister Chloe's personal blood bank.

I stared at the tea, remembering the doctor's warning from the messages on my phone: "Julian, you're taking too much blood from her. She could die."

His reply: "She'll manage."

To him, I was nothing but a walking blood bag.

Julian suddenly glanced at his phone, not quite meeting my eyes. "Something came up at work. I need to go handle it."

I nodded. "Go ahead."

Ever since Chloe got pregnant, I'd heard this excuse countless times. Those "work emergencies" were really just him running to her side.

The moment the door closed, my phone buzzed.

An Instagram story from Chloe's secret account—she was lying in bed, her belly round and swollen, Julian's hand gently rubbing oil across it.

Caption: "Daddy-to-be is SO sweet ❤️ Massages stretch mark oil on me every night, says he won't let me get any scars!"

Won't let HER get scars.

But what about the vicious scar across MY abdomen? The one he "lovingly" kissed every night—hadn't he carved it into me with his own hands?

My nails dug into my palms. Tears spilled down my cheeks.

Two years ago, Julian had been under enormous pressure from his family about producing an heir. I was heartbroken, even crying as I offered him a divorce. But he'd said, "I married YOU, not your uterus." Just when I was most moved, Chloe "conveniently" appeared, offering to be our surrogate.

I'd been SO grateful.

Now I realized—it was all an act.

Because that baby was Julian's all along.

The next evening, I covered my swollen eyes with makeup and headed downstairs right on time.

Before I even entered the dining room, I heard Chloe's exaggerated squeal: "Oh my GOD, Julian! 30% of the company? Are you SERIOUS?"

I stopped in the doorway.

Under the crystal chandelier, everyone crowded around Chloe—my parents and Julian. She wore a pink maternity dress, one hand on her belly, the other clutching documents.

"Of course." Julian was carefully peeling shrimp for her, his voice tender. "After everything you're doing for us, you've earned it."

Earned it?

What had SHE earned? Using MY uterus to carry HIS baby while pocketing 30% of his shares?

"Julian, you're SO good to Chloe!" My father laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

My mother stroked Chloe's belly, her face full of affection. "Our sweet grandson will be here in just over a month! I can't wait."

I stood in the doorway, suddenly feeling cold.

This was MY home. MY husband. MY parents. So why did I feel like an outsider?

Chloe finally "noticed" me, feigning surprise. "Oh! I didn't see you come in... Should I really accept such an expensive gift?"

All eyes turned to me.

I pulled on a smile and walked into the dining room, sitting across from Julian. "Take it, Chloe. You've earned it."

I sounded too composed.

Julian looked up at me, his brow furrowing slightly, but Chloe had already lowered her head shyly. "Well, if you insist!"

"Elsie, don't overthink this." My father raised his wine glass, his tone casual. "If it weren't for Chloe helping out, where would you and Julian get a child?"

My mother immediately chimed in. "Exactly. You need to remember your sister's kindness."

I gripped my dinner knife, my smile fixed. "Of course I remember."

"That's more like it. Here, Elsie, eat this." My mother, rarely "caring," placed a piece of fish on my plate. "You've gotten so thin lately. You need to build up your strength."

I stared at the fish drenched in cream sauce. I didn't touch it.

The dinner conversation continued around me. Everyone revolved around Chloe—discussing baby names, planning the scale of the newborn party, talking about the delivery suite Julian had arranged for her at supposedly the most exclusive hospital in New York.

No one noticed I never touched that fish.

Because they'd ALL forgotten—I'm allergic to seafood.

Always have been.

After dinner, Chloe suddenly clutched her stomach, her face pale. "Julian, I don't feel well..."

Julian immediately stood, supporting her anxiously. "What's wrong? Did you sit too long? Let me take you upstairs to rest."

After they hurried away, I stood up and blocked my parents before they could leave.

"Dad. Mom. I want a divorce."

The air froze.

My mother's eyes widened in shock. "What did you just say?"

"I said, I want to divorce Julian." I repeated calmly.

My father's face flushed red instantly. "Have you lost your MIND?! What makes you think you have ANY leverage to divorce Julian?"

My mother's voice turned shrill. "Julian marrying you was already a BLESSING! You can't even have children—what more could you possibly want?"

"He never loved me." My voice began to shake. "This marriage—"

"ENOUGH!" My father suddenly erupted in rage, stepping toward me. "Don't think that just because of what happened back then, you can do whatever you want! We've already married you off to Julian. You'd better behave!"

What happened back then.

They brought up that night again.

That incident everyone deliberately forgot—except when they needed to threaten me.

My mother lowered her voice, her eyes ice-cold. "Elsie, you'd better think carefully. Julian's mother has already agreed—once the baby's born, the Thorne family will invest another thirty million in us. Chloe is sacrificing for this family. You'd better swallow your jealousy and not ruin everything."

"Don't you EVER mention divorce again. Understood?"

They turned and left.

I watched their backs, leaning against the wall, laughing bitterly.

Elsie, what were you even hoping for? You should have seen this coming.

Late that night, I sat alone in the bedroom.

My fingers traced the vicious scar across my abdomen. Julian said it was "proof I survived."

How ironic.

This scar was proof that HE destroyed me.

I took a deep breath and opened my phone, entering an encrypted app.

The screen displayed: "Ferryman Service—When You Need to Disappear."

Upstairs, Julian and Chloe's laughter suddenly rang out, intimate and grating.

That laughter was like knives, stabbing into my heart one by one.

My finger hovered over the "Request Service" button. Tears blurred my vision.

Then I pressed it.

The screen showed: "Service confirmed. When would you like to execute?"

I typed: "One week from now."

Send.

I turned off my phone and lay back on the bed.

The crystal chandelier on the ceiling cast cold, refracted light.

In one week, Elsie Vance would disappear completely.

And they would get everything they wanted.