My Husband Is the Perfect Kidney Donor to His Mistress

My husband woke me at 2 AM, demanding I come to the hospital to operate on Ava Foster— his first love.

When I arrived, Ava was lying ghostly pale in the hospital bed. The chart showed end-stage uremia; she desperately needed a kidney transplant.

I explained that her condition was critical, and without a matching donor, there was nothing I could do.

My husband mistook my professional assessment for jealousy. He slapped me hard across the face.

"What kind of doctor are you?" he snarled. "Are you just going to let her die? Test more people until you find a match!"