My Husband Asked Me to Donate a Kidney to His Childhood SweetheartChapter 1
When Chloe pushed me off the villa's balcony, my husband was on the other end of the phone, sweetly calling her "baby."
I thought I would die, but I ended up just half-paralyzed.
Still not satisfied, Chloe hired someone to assault me, leaving me covered in wounds before burying me alive in the backyard of the estate.
Three years after my death, Chloe got uremia, and my husband finally remembered me.
He brought a group of bodyguards to the private estate, trying to catch me, looking everywhere but unable to find me. He thought I was hiding.
"If you agree to donate a kidney to Chloe, I'll let you come back home."
In the end, he dug three feet into the ground, only to uncover my bones.
——
Grayson stormed into the villa on the private estate, his brows furrowed tightly.
The private estate was managed by Grayson's informants, but no one was allowed into the villa.
It was only used to imprison me, the "wrongdoer" wife.
But I had been dead for three years.
No one had lived here for three years either.
Looking around, weeds had grown all over outside the villa door.
Grayson frowned coldly. "Mila is lazy. These weeds have grown so tall, and she hasn't bothered to clean them up.
"Compared to Chloe, she's really like night and day!"
Grayson snorted in disgust and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his nose and mouth.
Who knows what smell bothered him.
"Mila, are you addicted to living alone? Get out here already!"
He looked superior, his gaze full of disgust.
It was as if lowering himself to come here was a rare favor.
But no matter how many times he called, there was no response inside.
Grayson was getting impatient.
He indifferently instructed the bodyguards behind him, "Go over there and break down the door!"
With a loud crash, the bodyguards broke down the door and rushed in to grab someone.
But within five minutes, they ran out looking confused.
"Mr. Allen, Mrs. Allen is not inside."
Grayson's brows furrowed, his expression heavy.
Refusing to believe it, he searched inside and found no trace of anyone, so he pulled out his phone to call me.
We hadn't spoken in three years, and he frowned. Thinking for a long time, he was unable to remember my phone number.
Finally, he opened the contact labeled "Bitch" and dialed the number.
Floating beside him, I couldn't help but smile bitterly.