The Surgeon's Disposable Wife

My parents crashed on their way to find him. Dad died on impact. Mom clung to a single thread. Despair choked me. Then, Spencer’s uncle stepped up. Julian. He pulled strings.

He transferred her to the state's best hospital and scrubbed in himself. But she bled out. She died right on his operating table. Julian stumbled out of the OR.

He pulled me against his chest. He reeked of guilt. Right under the glaring hospital lights, he dropped to one knee.

He slipped a ring onto my shaking finger. “I'll give you a family again, Harlow.” Then came New Year’s Eve. Voices leaked from his study.

Julian and his childhood friend, Miles. “Draining Harlow’s mom dry on that operating table is one thing.

But you seriously plan to harvest her unborn baby's cord blood for Seraphina?” Chapter 1 Julian’s voice bled through the heavy wood. Raw.

Ruthless. “The only reason I agreed to let Harlow get pregnant was to harvest the cord blood. Seraphina needs a backup. Seraphina’s blood type is extremely rare.

Harlow and her mother are perfect matches. I had no goddamn choice.” A heavy sigh slipped past Miles's lips. “Orchestrating that wreck just for Seraphina… that was sick, Julian.

You killed Harlow’s dad. You sacrificed her mother. And for what? Seraphina is perfectly fine. Why the hell did you go that far?” Silence stretched heavy in the study.

When Julian finally spoke, his voice cracked with a twisted kind of devotion. “If something happens to her, it’s too late. I won’t let Seraphina suffer. Not even a papercut.

I have to be ready. As for Harlow… I’ll spend the rest of my life playing the perfect husband. I’ll make it up to her.” The floor dropped out from under me.

A cold dread seeped into my bones.

The voices blurred, then snapped back into agonizing focus. “Seraphina didn't want me,” Julian confessed, the bitter truth scraping his throat. “So I married Harlow.

I stepped aside so Seraphina could marry the man she loves.” Miles groaned, the sound heavy with disbelief. “You’ve been gaslighting Harlow into letting you draw her blood for years.

Telling her it was for routine health checks while you stockpiled it. Her immune system is shot, Julian. And now you knock her up? A pregnancy could kill her.

You’re risking two lives.” Another suffocating pause. “I’ll hire the best OBGYN in the country,” Julian snapped, defensive. “She won’t die.” But I knew the truth.

Medicine didn't deal in absolute guarantees. “Bullshit!” Miles shot back.

Fabric rustled—someone pacing aggressively. “Keep going down this rabbit hole, and what happens when Harlow finds out? Do you have any idea what kind of hell you'll have to pay?!

You’ll lose your medical license. You’ll rot in federal prison. You’ll drag your entire family’s legacy through the mud. And Harlow?

She will destroy you.” “Let her!” Julian roared. “My parents will understand! And Harlow can do whatever the hell she wants to me.

If it keeps Seraphina safe, I’d burn the whole world down.” Violent tremors ripped through my spine. I clamped a hand over my mouth, swallowing back a feral scream.

I stumbled backward. Away from the door. Away from the monster I married. Every kiss. Every whispered promise. A meticulously calculated lie.

I lost my parents in that mangled wreckage. I thought Julian was my lifeboat. He was the iceberg. And he had pulled me under just to keep another woman afloat.

Chapter 2 Yesterday, I practically shoved the positive pregnancy test into his hands, desperate to share the good news.

Julian, always so calculated, actually spun me around right there in public, completely ignoring everyone staring at us. He claimed I made him the happiest man alive.

Now the truth clawed at my throat. He was just thrilled about the cord blood. A fresh insurance policy for Seraphina. He traded my mother’s life for it.

And I walked right into his trap, marrying him blind. I was just a walking blood bank. He had been draining me for eight goddamn years. Tears scorched my cheeks.

I bit down on my lower lip—hard. The metallic tang of blood flooded my tongue. The bedroom door clicked open. Julian.

His fingers curled around a thick syringe, the needle flashing a sterile, lethal silver.

He froze, taking in my tearstreaked face, then hurried over. “Harlow, what’s wrong?” he murmured, pulling me against his chest. “Another nightmare?

I’ve got you.” A sickening wave of nausea hit me. His touch crawled over my skin like a sickness. He hadn't dropped the syringe. Once a month, like clockwork, he took a vial.

He always played the devoted doctor. Claimed my blood type was too rare—that we needed a stockpile just in case. He knew the grief from losing my parents was already suffocating me.

He knew the blood loss left me wrecked. But he coerced me into it every single time, swearing it was for my own good.

I stared at the needle, my voice trembling. “Julian… I’m pregnant now. Can we skip it this time? It hurts.

Haven't you taken enough?” “Not enough!” he snapped, the words sharp as a whip. Then, catching himself, his mask slipped back into place.

His voice softened into that saccharine tone. “Harlow, don't be dramatic. This is for you.

If you hemorrhage during delivery, where am I supposed to find enough of your rare blood type? We have to protect ourselves.

Be a good girl, okay?” A glacial chill locked up my joints. Protect ourselves? Then why the hell didn't Seraphina protect herself? He was a surgeon.

He knew drawing this much blood right now could trigger a miscarriage. It could deform the baby. Kill it. But he didn't care. Next to Seraphina, his own unborn child was disposable.

A hollow numbness swallowed me. I just sat there, staring blankly ahead as Julian plunged the cold steel into my vein. Thick, dark blood pulsed up the tubing. My stomach lurched.

All the color drained from my face as the room started to spin, the edges of my vision dissolving into black static. The second the vial was full, he yanked the needle out.

He didn't even press a cotton ball to my skin. He just grabbed the blood, desperate to get it preserved, and bolted out the door. I slumped sideways.

Crimson droplets welled up from the puncture wound, sliding down my pale arm. Then, the darkness swallowed me whole. Chapter 3 I clawed my way back to consciousness.

The leather sofa clung to my freezing skin. The thermostat hummed at a solid seventytwo, but ice coated my bones. I shoved myself up. The room tilted.

Black spots swarmed my vision, followed by a piercing, highpitched ringing splitting my eardrums. Through the ringing, a sound filtered in. Laughter.

Warm, vibrant, echoing up the staircase. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripped the banister, and forced my leaden legs to move.

Seraphina sat wedged between Julian and his mother at the dining table. She giggled, leaning into his shoulder.

His mother beamed at her, practically glowing, indulging her loud laughter and spoiled antics without a single word of scolding.

Julian’s long fingers expertly cracked open pistachios, dropping the green nuts into a small porcelain bowl right at Seraphina’s fingertips. A pictureperfect family.

And I was the ghost haunting their house. Seraphina spotted me first.

Her glossed lips curved into a sickly sweet smile. “Oh, Harlow's awake.” Julian's mother slammed her coffee mug onto the table. “Sleeping all through New Year's Eve while we do all the work.

And bringing that miserable, deadeyed look into my home. You're ruining the holiday.” Julian didn't say a word. Usually, he’d at least play the devoted husband and defend me.

But with Seraphina right next to him, he acted like I didn't exist. I didn't respond. I just dragged my feet across the hardwood, stopping right in front of them.

Three pairs of eyes stared back at me. Cold. Annoyed. Disgusted. “Julian,” I rasped, the words scraping my raw throat. “I want a divorce.” The room went dead silent.

His mother shot up, her chair screeching against the tile. “Are you insane? Dropping this on New Year's Eve? You just can't stand seeing us happy, can you!

You have to make everything toxic!” She sneered, her eyes flashing with malice. “I guess that's what happens when your parents die before they can teach you any manners.

Look at her, Julian! This is the trash you dragged into our family! She's going to put me in an early grave!” A physical blow struck my chest. My lungs deflated.

She weaponized my dead parents without blinking. She never hid her hatred for me. Julian and Seraphina grew up together. Seraphina was the chosen one.

The perfect, wealthy daughterinlaw she always wanted. When Julian married me instead, his mother treated me like a disease.

Right now, her glare practically begged me to drop dead on her expensive rug. Julian blinked, caught off guard. Then, he quickly composed himself.

He softened his features, adopting that sickeningly gentle tone. “Harlow, what's wrong? Did something upset you? You're pregnant. Your hormones are just spiking.

You're overthinking things.” He started to stand, reaching a hand out for me. “It's the holidays.

Let's talk about this later, okay?” Seraphina’s fingers clamped onto his sleeve, yanking him back. The spoiled brat routine vanished.

Seraphina’s huge eyes welled up with perfectly timed tears. Her bottom lip quivered. “Is—is she doing this because I'm here?

Harlow always hated me.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I shouldn't have come. I ruined everything.

I just missed my godmother and Julian so much…” Her pathetic little act worked. Julian’s posture softened.

His mother’s face twisted into a snarl, directing all her venom right back at me. “If you have a problem with Seraphina, then pack your bags and get out!” she shrieked. “She is my goddaughter!

You are nothing but a parasite! You don't get to stand in my house and disrespect her!” Chapter 4 Julian’s jaw locked.

His face darkened. “Harlow,” he warned, his voice dropping into a low, threatening rumble. “I indulge you every other day of the year. But it’s New Year’s Eve.

Do you really have to drag out ancient history and make a massive scene? Seraphina didn’t mean anything by it.

She even went out of her way to buy you supplements when she heard you were pregnant! Why can’t you just be the bigger person and let it go? We grew up together.

My mother adores her. Am I supposed to cut her off completely just because you’re insecure?” The room started to spin.

My hands shook so hard I could barely feel my fingers. “The bigger person?” My voice tore from my throat, raw and unhinged. “My parents are dead, Julian!

How the hell am I supposed to be the bigger person?! And tell me the truth, Julian.

When my mother was wheeled into your OR…” I forced the words out past the lump of razor blades in my throat. “Was she really beyond saving?” A flicker of panic ruptured his calm facade.

Guilt flashed in his eyes. A defensive rage consumed him. A sharp crack echoed through the dining room.

The blistering force of his slap whipped my head violently to the side. “Shut your mouth!” he roared. “I am a surgeon!

Do you seriously think I’d intentionally kill someone on my table?! Your parents died because of their own goddamn bad luck!

Stop making the living pay for it!” The silence in the room was deafening. Julian froze, his chest heaving. Seraphina’s fingers were still wrapped tightly around his sleeve.

He didn't pull away. He just stood there, watching me choke on a gasp as the stinging pain radiated across my skin. I tasted blood. I slowly lifted my head.

Julian’s expression cracked. Regret finally seeped through his anger. His lips parted.

His hand twitched, reaching out toward me. “Harlow… I didn’t mean to—” I flinched away from his touch like it was acid.

Dragging my numb feet across the hardwood, I turned my back on them and walked toward the door. “Let her go!” his mother spat. “Her parents are dead and she’s knocked up.

Where the hell is she going to go?” Seraphina’s sickeningly sweet voice layered right over it. “Just give her some space to cool off, Julian.” The heavy front door clicked shut behind me.

Julian didn't follow. I drove back to the house we used to call home. My pulse was flat. I packed my essentials into a single duffel bag.

Then, I pulled out my phone and scheduled a termination at a private clinic for the very next available slot. Julian didn't come home that night.

Instead, my screen lit up with his pathetic attempts at damage control. “Don't stay mad at me, Harlow. I lost my temper yesterday.

I bought that diamond necklace you’ve been looking at. I’ll have my assistant drop it off tomorrow, okay?” “It’s fine if you don’t want to celebrate with my mother.

I ordered you a few days of premade healthy meals.

Just be a good girl and stay home.” “I’m going to stay with my mom for a few days, then I’ll be back.” “Love you, babe.” A fresh wave of nausea twisted my stomach.

He deflected the entire blowout onto his mother. He scrubbed Seraphina’s name out of the narrative. He was terrified I’d consider her a threat and go after her.

But he didn't realize Seraphina was the one who wouldn't let me go. A notification pinged. A photo message from Seraphina.

There was Julian—the man claiming he was spending quality time with his mother—standing in a highend designer boutique.

He was right behind Seraphina, casually handing a black limitless card to the cashier.

That apology necklace was probably just an afterthought from his luxury shopping spree with her. In all our years together, he had never gone out of his way to buy me a single gift.

Every ounce of his love was a shallow, hollow performance. And I had been too blind to see the glaring red flags. I didn't reply. I just stared at the screen.

A second later, Seraphina sent an audio file.

Chapter 5 “I'm so sorry,” Seraphina sobbed in the recording, her voice dripping with manufactured guilt. “Because of me, you had to marry a woman you don't even love.” “It doesn't matter,” Julian murmured.

The raw ache in his tone made my stomach turn. “For you, I'd do anything.” “If I asked you to divorce her right now…” Seraphina's voice dropped to a breathless whisper. “To marry me instead.

Would you?” Julian didn't even hesitate for a single second. “I would.” The recording cut out. A voice memo from Seraphina followed immediately. “Hear that, Harlow?

Both Julian and Spencer are nothing but my pathetic lapdogs.” A vicious, mocking laugh crackled through the speaker. “And you?

You're not even worth the dirt under my heels.” My grip on the phone tightened. My knuckles turned bonewhite.

The chaotic, blinding rage suddenly crystallized into something different. Pure, glacial focus. I scrubbed the exhaustion from my skin under scalding water and slept like the dead.

The very next morning, I walked straight into the clinic. I didn't flinch. I had barely stepped off the operating table when my phone buzzed. Julian.

He always had a sick sixth sense. “Harlow? Are you home? Is everything okay?” “Yeah,” I replied.

My voice was a flatline. “And the baby?” he pressed, his tone tightening with thinly veiled anxiety. “Is the baby safe?” I stared down at the medical waste tray beside me.

Inside sat the bloody remains of his sick insurance policy. “It's still here,” I murmured. A heavy exhale crackled through the receiver. Julian was relieved. Not for his child.

For Seraphina’s goddamn blood supply. A cold, hollow laugh scraped up my throat. “When you get home, I have a surprise waiting for you.” Julian’s voice brightened instantly.

He thought I was rolling over. Surrendering. “Good.

I have a few things to wrap up with my mother, but I'll be back soon.” Seraphina’s highpitched, mocking voice suddenly drifted from the background.

Then, he eagerly hung up the phone, cutting the line dead. I didn't care. I went straight back to that sterile house. I slapped the signed divorce papers on the kitchen island.

Right on top, I weighed them down with the sealed biobag of medical waste I bribed the nurse to let me take. I didn't pack a single memory.

I walked out and headed straight for the airport. Every ounce of agony Julian had inflicted on me—I was going to forcefeed it right back down his throat.

I flew down to a small, sundrenched coastal town down South. Warm breeze. Salty air. The perfect place to disappear and heal. Days bled into weeks.

Then, an uninvited guest showed up on my porch. Spencer. My exfiancé. The man who dumped me at the altar for Seraphina. I had no idea how the hell he tracked me down.

I hadn't seen him since the day I married his uncle, Julian. Yet here he was.

Spencer shifted his weight, looking out of place. “Harlow,” he muttered. “It's been a while.” I didn't say a word. I just crossed my arms, locking my eyes on him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, awkward and desperate. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. My patience evaporated. I stepped back to slam the door in his face.

His hand shot out, gripping the doorframe. His knuckles turned white. “Harlow, wait. Julian lost his goddamn mind!” I raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered. “Oh.

And?” He exhaled, relief flashing across his face now that I was listening. “Filing for divorce and getting an abortion on New Year’s Day? The entire family went into a meltdown.

His mother saw what you left on the counter…” He choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence.“She took one look at that… that thing… and collapsed. She's in the ICU.

Julian took a massive hit. He’s completely unhinged. He probably wants you dead right now.” I gave a slow, indifferent nod.

None of it mattered to me anymore. “Okay,” I said, staring right through him. “So why the hell are you here?” Chapter 6 Spencer’s eyes darted back and forth. “Julian is coming for you, Harlow.

He’s just making arrangements for his mother. But the second he has a free hand, he’s going to hunt you down! You know his obsession. He won't let this go! So leave with me.

I screwed up before. I know that now. Give me one more chance. I swear I'll protect you this time.” So fiercely devoted.

It was the exact same script Julian fed me the day Spencer dumped me at the altar. A bitter laugh scraped my throat. The men in this family were massproduced garbage.

I opened my mouth to tell him to rot. Then, a towering shadow bled into the edge of my peripheral vision. I paused.

A slow, poisonous smirk curled my lips as I met Spencer’s pathetic, pleading gaze. “Okay. I'll go with you. But you better make sure you protect me.” Spencer’s face lit up. “Really?

You're forgiving me? I won't let Julian anywhere near you! I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you! I already bought the tickets.

We can leave right—” He reached out to grab my hand. He never made it. A pale, whiteknuckled hand clamped down on Spencer’s forearm, wrenching it backward. Crack.

Bone popped out of its socket.

Spencer let out a bloodcurdling shriek. “Where exactly,” a guttural, feral growl vibrated through the air, “are you taking my wife, Spencer?” I looked past the writhing man to the monster standing behind him.

My smile widened into something entirely hollow. “Long time no see, Julian.” Julian’s eyes were bloodshot. Manic. He was completely deaf to Spencer’s agonizing screams.

He just stared at me. Like he was seeing me for the very first time. Then, all hell broke loose on my porch. The uncle and nephew tore into each other. Fists collided with bone.

Blood splattered across the sunbleached wood. It was a bloodbath. Two rabid dogs ripping each other's throats out over a treasure they both claimed as their own.

I watched them bleed for a solid minute. Then I got bored. I stepped back inside, slammed the heavy door shut, and slid the deadbolt. I slept perfectly.

The next morning, I swung the door open. Julian was slumped against the frame. His designer shirt was shredded. Dried blood caked his split lip and bruised jaw. He looked wrecked.

At the scrape of the hinges, his head snapped up. Redrimmed eyes locked onto mine. “You're ruthless, Harlow.” I didn't even blink.

I stepped right over his outstretched leg and walked down the path. Frantic footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me.

Julian’s bruised fingers clamped around my wrist. “Why?” he rasped. “Is it for Spencer? After all these years, are you still obsessed with him?” I stopped dead in my tracks.

I slowly lowered my gaze to the hand shackling my wrist. Pure, unadulterated revulsion crawled across my skin.

Waves of nausea washed over me. “Let go.” The command was absolute zero. Julian’s grip only tightened. His knuckles popped.

For the first time in his life, he actually sounded like a wounded animal. “I want an explanation, Harlow.” Memories flickered.

I had spent years swallowing my pride because I thought he had saved me from the wreckage of my parents' death. Every time he hurt me, I gaslit myself into forgiving him.

That was my mistake. It made him bulletproof. It made him so arrogant he stopped hiding his total obsession with Seraphina. Even now.

Even after I walked away with nothing, he still couldn't fathom that he was the red flag. He was standing here, dripping with blood, demanding an explanation like he was the victim.

Chapter 7 “Do I owe you an explanation?” The words lacked any heat. Flat. Dead. “Yes!” Julian roared. “You killed our baby! You were sick enough to—” His face contorted in agony.

The words choked him. He looked utterly destroyed. But when he forced that needle into my vein, risking that exact same pregnancy, he didn't care.

He only felt the blade when it sliced into his own flesh. A hollow laugh scraped past my lips. “Sick enough to do what, Julian?” Julian stared at me.

His chest heaved with ragged breaths. “Why?” he gasped. “How the hell are you smiling? How can you do something so twisted and smile?!” Impotent rage tore from his throat.

I just watched him. A pathetic clown performing for an empty room. Under my dead stare, his screaming fractured.

His shaking hands dropped to his sides. “Why, Harlow?” he begged, the fight draining out of him. “Just give me a reason.

I don't understand.” I tilted my head. “Are you crying because the baby is gone? Or because of something else?” Julian froze.

The confusion on his face was almost convincing. “What?” he whispered. “Harlow, what are you talking about?” I stared at his flawless mask.

A bitter smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth. “You make me physically sick, Julian.” I ripped my arm out of his grip. I spun around and walked away. He stood paralyzed.

But before I made it three steps, his fingers clamped onto the hem of my shirt. “Harlow…” The word broke. “Our baby is dead, and are you really this numb?” he pleaded. “You left the remains for me.

You destroyed the only tissue that could have saved Seraphina. You left it ruined in a biobag, soaking in blood. That was our baby! What did he do to deserve that?!” Sick?

So he finally understood the definition of the word. He kept clinging. Kept performing this grotesque play. Kept burying the truth. A raw, violent spark ignited in my chest.

I swung. My palm cracked against his jaw. He stumbled back in shock, his grip releasing instinctively. The spark exploded into an inferno. Mangled metal. Crushed bones.

My mother bleeding out under his sterile lights. The agonizing scrape of the clinic tools inside me. I swung again. Harder. Julian's head snapped to the side.

Rage flooded his eyes. “Harlow, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Then, he paused. The panic hit him. The anger melted into a pathetic, desperate terror.

I locked eyes with him, letting the silence suffocate him. “A divorce and a shredded umbilical cord,” I practically whispered. “Isn't that exactly what you wanted, Julian?

I gave you both. Why are you complaining?” The color drained from his face. He looked like a corpse. He opened his mouth. He wanted to lie. He wanted to gaslight me one more time.

But his lips just trembled. His shoulders collapsed