Chapter 3

The plan was in motion, but Nicole and Matthew had a plan of their own.

Two days later, the hospital was swarming with reporters. Matthew Blakely, the celebrated producer, had been attacked in his hospital room while visiting a sick friend.

He gave a press conference from his bed, a single, photogenic tear rolling down his cheek.

"I don' t know who it was," he choked out. "But they were screaming about jealousy. About the theater. They ruptured my kidney."

Nicole was by his side, her face a mask of righteous fury. She pointed a finger directly at the cameras.

"It was my husband, Ethan Clark!" she shrieked. "He' s been consumed by jealousy for years! He couldn' t stand Matthew' s success, so he hired someone to do this! He' s a monster!"

The narrative was set. I was the bitter, washed-up actor, lashing out from my hospital bed.

That night, two large men in orderly uniforms entered my room. They didn' t speak. They just closed the door.

I was still weak, tethered to IV lines, my body a roadmap of pain. I tried to fight, to call for help, but it was useless.

They beat me. Systematically. Brutally. They broke two of my ribs and collapsed one of my lungs. They were professionals, inflicting maximum damage while carefully, deliberately avoiding the area around my kidneys.

As I blacked out, I heard one of them mutter, "Nicole said make it look like retaliation. A good, solid beating."

I woke up in the ICU, a tube down my throat, the world a blur of pain. Nicole was there, her face a picture of grim satisfaction.

"Matthew is in renal failure," she said, her voice flat. "The doctors say you' re a perfect match. A one-in-a-million chance. It' s a miracle."

She signed the consent forms. While I was unconscious, they took my kidney. My healthy, perfectly preserved kidney.

A day later, Matthew Blakely walked into my room. He looked vibrant, healthy. He patted his side.

"Feels good, Ethan. Works like a charm," he gloated, a smug smile on his face. "You have to hand it to Nicole. Staging my 'attack' to make this all look legitimate? That was her idea. Pure genius."

He leaned in close, his breath smelling of expensive cologne and my stolen life.

"She really does love me," he whispered. "Enough to butcher you piece by piece to keep me whole."