Viscera Organs

In my previous life, I, Ruth Spencer, fell seriously ill. Because of that, I managed to stop my husband, Zayne Colman, from going on a business trip to the country border. He immediately canceled his flight, pulled me into his arms, and gently comforted me. Over the phone, he gave instructions to my younger sister, Reagan Spencer. "The project comes first. You go in my place." But no one could have known that the so-called business partner was actually a ruthless scam syndicate. Reagan had her organs harvested and was tortured to death. I was devastated. Zayne held my frail body in his arms and hoarsely promised that even though Reagan was gone, he would still love me twice as much. And he kept his promise. For ten years, he never let me suffer at all. In fact, he spoiled me rotten. This went on until the day I gave birth. The pain nearly knocked me unconscious, but Zayne put his hand over the call button to prevent me from summoning help. The words he spoke were laced with malice. "If you hadn't gotten sick at such a convenient time back then, Reagan wouldn't have gone alone! I could have saved her. "It's your fault she's dead! She must feel so lonely down there. You and this bastard child can go keep her company!" That was when I finally realized that our love were nothing but a lie. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day he is about to leave for that trip to the border. This time, I release them to the path leading to freedom, or, in other words, to hell.

My boyfriend has always doted on me. However, after learning that I can't go to work at the bank after falling and injuring myself, he snaps at me. "Why didn't you tell me you switched shifts with someone else? That was a cheap move!" I don't refute him. Instead, I pull out a hospitalization record as I watch the bank descend into chaos. In my past life, I attended to a couple who wanted to deposit five million dollars into their account. Their child had been diagnosed with a rare illness. They'd gotten the money by selling their organs and mortgaging the home—it was to save their child's life and pay for the surgery the following day. However, the money was stolen the following day. I helped them check where the money was withdrawn, but the surveillance footage showed I was the one who did it. My best friend wept when the couple questioned me. "You shouldn't have stolen the money someone needed to save a life, no matter how materialistic and covetous you are!" My boyfriend hurried over and said, "I wondered why you suddenly had money to buy a car—you stole it! You're heartless!" The child died after failing to receive treatment in time, and the couple stabbed me to death on the streets out of devastation. When I open my eyes again, I think injuring myself will help me escape this. To my surprise, the surveillance cameras once again capture me stealing the money.

In the relentless storm of misfortune, Jessa's world crumbled as her businesses fell like a house of cards, leaving her drowning in a sea of debts. The remnants of her once comfortable life vanished one by one, leaving only an overwhelming sense of financial ruin. Among the mounting troubles, the most pressing was her father's debt to a menacing loan shark. Jessa had to settle it, or risk dire consequences for her beloved Papa. To make matters worse, the family home was on the brink of foreclosure by the relentless claws of the bank. Desperate, she approached the formidable Mr. Guiller Moretti, proposing a dire trade-her internal organs in exchange for her father's life. Yet, Mr. Moretti turned down the grim offer and presented an alternative. A job. A demeaning profession she never thought she would consider. Faced with the choice of endangering her father or sacrificing her own dignity, she opted for the latter. Jessa agreed to become a high-priced escort to secure her father's freedom. Little did she know, this was just the beginning of her tumultuous journey. Fate took an unexpected turn when her first client turned out to be Xyrius Dale Smith, a notorious playboy from the university she attended. Xyrius not only paid off her father's debts but showered her with opulence-expensive dresses, cars, condos, and jewelry. Yet, the exorbitant price for this lavish lifestyle was her exclusivity. He demanded her body to be his and his alone. Was it a heaven-sent salvation? Far from it. Was she lucky? Definitely not. From the moment Xyrius became obsessed with her allure, Jessa's life took a chaotic nosedive into a whirlwind of unexpected passion and turmoil, leaving her to question if this twist of fate was a blessing or a curse.

Five years after our son was born, I finally faced the truth: my wife didn't love me—or our boy. Determined to end this miserable marriage, I made plans to leave and take our son with me. But fate had other ideas. A car accident cost me a kidney and took our son's eye. At my lowest point, my usually distant wife fell to her knees right in the hospital corridor, begging for forgiveness. She swore she would spend the rest of her life taking care of us. We decided to give her one last chance—a 100-day trial. If she made it, we'd stay together. But on the ninety-ninth day, my son and I overheard her talking to the attending physician. "Emma," the doctor said, "did you really arrange that accident to secure organs for Daniel Carter's son? You did that to take a kidney from your husband and an eye from your son—was it worth it?" Emma Evans's voice was eerily calm. "It was worth it. As long as Daniel is happy, I'd do anything." "And what if your husband and son find out?" She fell silent for a moment, then instinctively touched the wedding ring on her hand. "Then they'll never know. They just want a family; I'll do everything I can to make up for it." So the "changed woman" we thought we knew was just an act—a carefully built lie. The happiness my son and I had begun to believe in was nothing more than a story she'd crafted to protect the person she really loved. Every kindness, every effort—it had all been quietly weighed and paid for in advance.

I knew perfectly well that people from the Emirates do not eat pork. Yet this time, I watched in silence as my husband's childhood sweetheart insisted on placing a pork dish on the table. In fact, I even supported her decision. In my past life, when our company hosted a welcome banquet for powerful investors from the Emirates, she had been desperate to flaunt her cooking. Against all reason, she forced a pork dish onto the menu. I stopped her then. I explained that pork was forbidden by religious belief, and that offending the investors could cost us everything. If they withdrew their funding, the company's finances would collapse overnight. She took my warning as jealousy. In a fit of rage, she ran out of the banquet hall and was struck by a car, leaving her in a permanent vegetative state. I thought my husband would break down. Instead, he remained calm, stayed through the dinner, and secured the investment in surprisingly calmness. The truth revealed itself later. After the company went public, he brought me abroad under the guise of business, only to drag me onto a medical ship in international waters. As my kidney was cut from my body, I cried and asked him why. His answer came with a slap. "If you hadn't been jealous back then... If you hadn't tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have ended up like that." I died in agony on the operating table. After my death, he used the money from selling my organs to cure his beloved childhood sweetheart, and the two of them went on to live rich, comfortable lives together. And then I opened my eyes again, back to the very day she decided to serve pork to the clients.

"You understand what it means for you to be mine, right? "He questions, and I swallow. Never breaking eye contact with him. "No... "I admit with my voice trembling. "If you become mine, "He begins, his tone dropping into a seductive growl that sends shivers down my spine. "You won't just be working for me. Your body will belong to me. I'll do whatever I want with you, whenever I want, and however I want. "He says, and as my back hits the wall my stomach drops. "You're not... planning to sell my organs, are you?" I ask, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "No, David, " "I mean, I'll fuck you whenever, wherever, and however I want. You'll be mine. My personal... plaything. Of course, you'll be taken care of. Shelter, food, Vanessa's bills... Everything. However, your main job will be warming my bed. "He says, and my eyes widen in horror. ***** His job was… ‘simple’. To rob him, and run as far as his resources could take him. He didn't plan to get caught. And even if that was a probability, he never expected to be spared. He never expected Salvatore to spare his life and keep him alive as a boy toy. He also didn't expect his straight self to fall for a man. Especially not one as rough, dangerous, and deadly as Salvatore. Are the feelings reciprocated? Or is David just a toy to Salvatore? This is the question that plagues David as he falls deeper and faster for this dangerous, Italian hot cake. Realizing he would do anything for the unpredictable man he had grown to love. When their dangerous world closes in, David must decide. Will he run, or will he risk everything for the man who could break his heart?