He Tricked Me Into Giving My Marrow ,Now He'll Beg on His Knees

Five years of marriage, and Maxwell Gilbert had never once truly looked at me.

His heart belonged to a dead woman.

His first love, his untouchable ideal. Isabel Henson.

Until today, when I snatched the documents my husband had been hiding.

A gratuitous transfer agreement.

Three properties under his name, forty percent of Radiant Holdings' shares, all gifted to Antonia Henson.

Antonia Henson. The younger sister of his dead first love.

Tucked behind the last page was another sheet of paper.

A bone-marrow donation consent form. Recipient: Antonia Henson.

All it needed was my signature.

I slammed the documents down in front of him.

"Maxwell, what the hell is this?"

He didn't even lift his head. Just reached over and slid the papers away.

"Amy Fox, this is what we owe Isabel. If you hadn't insisted on marrying into this family, she wouldn't be dead."

"Antonia has leukemia now. We have to save her."

Five years. Five years I'd been his personal ATM, all because Maxwell Gilbert carried guilt over his precious first love.

Now he wanted to force me to donate bone marrow on top of it.

If Maxwell couldn't see me or our daughter as his family, he could play the lovesick martyr on his own.

...

When I pushed open the study door, Maxwell was locking a thick stack of documents into the safe.

I was faster. My hand shot out, blocking the door before it closed, and I yanked the papers free.

Black ink on white paper. Crystal clear.

Thirty percent of Gilbert Group shares. Three luxury apartments in Cloudvale Bay. All transferred to Antonia Henson, free of charge.

Attached at the bottom was a bone-marrow match donation consent form, waiting for my signature.

I slammed the documents onto the mahogany desk so hard the pen holder rattled, and fixed Maxwell with an ice-cold stare.

"Maxwell Gilbert, have you lost your mind, or did you just sell your conscience wholesale?"

"Handing over our marital assets to fill that bottomless pit is one thing. Now you want to drain my bone marrow too?"

"On what grounds?"

Maxwell's brows knitted tight, his eyes brimming with impatience.

"Amy, do you have to be this selfish?"

"Isabel died in that fire trying to save me. Burned beyond recognition. Nothing left to bury."

"Antonia is her only sister, and now she's been diagnosed with leukemia. If we don't save her, who will?"

"Those assets are just material things. If they can buy Antonia her life, it's worth it."

A laugh tore out of me, sharp and ugly enough to cut glass.

"You owe Isabel Henson a life? Then pay it back yourself."

"You want bone marrow extracted, roll up your own sleeve. Stop volunteering my body like it's yours to give."

My words hit a nerve. Maxwell shot to his feet, the chair scraping back behind him.

"My marrow wasn't a match. Yours is. That's fate."

"You're the lady of the Gilbert family. You've enjoyed years of wealth and luxury. Giving a little blood and bone is too much to ask?"

"Besides, if you hadn't insisted on marrying me back then, Isabel never would have left heartbroken, and she never would have been in that fire."

"This is your atonement, Amy."

My hand moved before my mind caught up. The slap connected with Maxwell's face so hard the crack echoed off the study walls.

"Maxwell Gilbert, if you've contracted rabies, go get a shot. Don't stand here frothing at me."

"You were the one who knelt in the rain begging me to marry you. Begging for my family's money to bail you out of bankruptcy."

"Now that the crisis is over, you want to play the devoted lover? Is that it?"

Maxwell cupped his cheek, staring at me like he couldn't process what just happened.

"You actually hit me."

"And I'll do it again if that's what it takes to knock some sense into that thick skull."

I couldn't stomach his face for another second. I turned on my heel and headed for the stairs.

The moment I reached the landing, a sound rose from below. My daughter Lily Abbott, screaming and sobbing like her heart was being ripped apart.

My chest seized. I flew down the steps, taking them two and three at a time.

In the living room, Antonia Henson sat perched on a sofa surrounded by wreckage.

Her burn-scarred face was twisted with malice, and she held a glass-handled feather duster in her grip.

A long, bloody gash ran down Lily's arm. The little girl was huddled in the corner, trembling.

Every drop of blood in my body surged straight to my skull.

"Antonia, you're dead."

I charged forward, ripped the duster from her hand, and swung it hard across her back.

Antonia let out a shriek like a slaughtered pig and crumpled onto the carpet.

"Amy, what are you doing? I was just teaching Lily some manners!"

"She broke the crystal glass my sister left me on purpose. What's wrong with disciplining her a little on your behalf?"

She lay sprawled on the floor, weeping like some delicate flower battered by rain, as though she were the victim of some terrible injustice.

I scooped Lily into my arms. The sight of my daughter's tear-streaked little face made my heart bleed.

Lily hiccupped and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Mommy, I didn't touch her glass. She broke it herself. And she pinched me."

I turned my head and fixed Antonia with a stare that could kill.

"What exactly are you? You think you have the right to lay a hand on my daughter?"

"If I don't skin you alive today, my name isn't Fox."

I raised the duster to strike again.

A violent force slammed into me from behind. Maxwell rushed in and shoved me aside.

"Amy, have you lost your mind?"

"Antonia is sick. How could you hit her that hard?"

He helped Antonia to her feet with painstaking care, then turned to look at me like I was his worst enemy.

I steadied myself, shielding Lily in my arms, and met his glare without flinching.

"Maxwell, are you blind? Can't you see the blood on Lily's arm?"

He didn't spare Lily so much as a glance. All his attention went to gently wiping the tears from Antonia's face.

"Kids bump into things all the time. Antonia's fragile. You could've killed her hitting her like that."

"Apologize to her. Now."

I laughed. The kind of laugh that shook through my whole body.

"Maxwell, you want me to apologize to her? Over my dead body."

"From today on, it's either her or me in this house."

His expression darkened until it looked like a storm about to break.

"Amy, stop being unreasonable."

"Antonia's condition can't wait. At the charity gala next week, I'm going to formally announce that I'm taking her in as my sworn sister."

"At the same time, I'll announce that you're donating bone marrow to her. Consider it good karma."

"If you dare cause a scene at the gala, don't blame me for what happens next."

I stared at this man I'd shared a bed with for five years. He felt like a complete stranger.

"Maxwell, who do you think you are? God?"

"What you announce has nothing to do with me. Without my signed consent, no doctor on this earth would dare touch me."

Antonia nestled into Maxwell's arms and let out two feeble coughs.

"Max, don't pressure Amy. She's always hated me."

"I'll just stop treatment. Let me go be with my sister underground. I'm nothing but a burden anyway."

Maxwell tightened his arms around her, his voice aching.

"Don't talk like that. I'll save you. I promise."

Then he turned to me, every word laced with threat.

"Amy, your family's company is about to go public, isn't it? Right at this critical stage."

"If the public finds out that the Fox heiress refused to save a dying woman, didn't even have the guts to get tested for a bone marrow match, how do you think the SEC will react?"

"Fox Group's business is none of your concern."

I looked at him coldly and let every word land like a blade.

"You want to use public opinion to pressure me? Go ahead. Try it. See who ends up destroyed."

I carried Lily straight upstairs to the nursery on the second floor and locked the door behind us.

Once I'd soothed her to sleep, I pulled out my backup phone.

I, Amy Fox, had never been a pushover.

Years ago, I'd seen something in Maxwell Gilbert. I'd handed him resources, connections, and a network that put him where he sat today.

If he wanted to bite the hand that fed him, then he had no one to blame when I bled him dry.

I dialed my private hacker assistant, K.

"K, I need you to trace the overseas transactions on an account for me."

For five years, Antonia Henson had been wiring enormous sums abroad under every excuse imaginable. She thought she'd been careful. In truth, I'd noticed a long time ago.

I just hadn't cared enough to look into it.

Now, though, the destination of that money was looking very suspicious.

Less than half an hour later, K sent the files to my encrypted inbox.

I opened the statements and scrolled through them, each line more absurd than the last.

Every single transfer ultimately funneled into an Australian account registered under the name Vivian.

And this Vivian's spending history could only be described as obscene. Day after day, it was either limited-edition handbags or chartered yachts and private parties.

Better still, K had hacked into an overseas social media platform and dug up Vivian's private account.

It was full of photos that could sear your eyes out of your skull.

The woman in the pictures wore oversized sunglasses and a bikini, draped over two blond men built like Greek statues.

Half her face was hidden, but I recognized her instantly by the signature red mole on her chin.

This was no Vivian.

This was Isabel Henson. The woman who had supposedly burned to ash in that fire.

I stared at the photos on my screen, and a cold smile curved my lips.

The sainted ghost. The untouchable first love, consumed by flames.

She and Antonia had orchestrated the perfect con, a masterwork of fake tragedy.

All for Maxwell's fortune. And they'd wanted my life thrown in as a bonus.

"Isabel, you've been having the time of your life overseas, haven't you."

"Since you're not dead after all, let me put together a proper welcome-home gift."

The next morning, I finished washing up and applied a full face of flawless makeup.

The moment I came downstairs, I saw Maxwell sitting at the table, spooning bird's nest soup toward Antonia's lips, coaxing her to drink.

When he noticed me, his gaze cooled several degrees.

"Have you come to your senses? If so, go to the hospital and get the pre-op screening done."

I walked to the dining table and poured myself a cup of black coffee. Every movement was unhurried, composed.

"Maxwell, I want a divorce."

The spoon in his hand stilled for a fraction of a second. Then he let out a derisive scoff.

"What game are you playing now, Amy?"

"Every time we fight, you throw around the word 'divorce' like it's supposed to scare me. You really think that still works?"

I took a slow sip of the coffee. The bitterness spread across my tongue.

"This isn't a threat. The attorney's letter will be delivered to your office this afternoon."

"Every asset under my name stays with me. You won't see a single cent."

"And I'm taking full custody of Lily."

Maxwell slammed the bowl onto the table. Bird's nest soup splattered everywhere.

"In your dreams."

"If you dare bring up divorce right now, I will destroy your reputation."

"Antonia's bone marrow donation? You're doing it whether you want to or not."

Antonia sat off to the side, dabbing at crocodile tears.

"It's all my fault, Amy. I'll just go. Please don't fight because of me."

She spoke while making a show of pushing herself up from the wheelchair. Her legs buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.

Maxwell scooped her up, cradling her against his chest, and turned a furious glare on me.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"If anything happens to Antonia, I swear you'll pay with your life."

I looked at the two of themthis disgusting pairand felt nothing but nausea rising in my throat.

"Do whatever you want, Maxwell. You'd better pray your precious little sister-in-law lives long enough to make it to the gala."

I turned on my heel, walked out of the villa, and drove my Porsche straight to the office.

The moment I arrived at Fox Group, I called an emergency meeting with both the legal and finance departments.

A full audit. Every project Maxwell had his fingers in, every dollar he'd funneled through the company.

If I was going to cut him off, I was going to cut clean.

Over the next few days, I didn't go back to that revolting house. Not once.

I was busy laying the groundwork, preparing a gift the Henson sisters would remember for the rest of their miserable lives.

K sent me an update.

Antonia's so-called leukemia medical records were forged. Completely fabricated. Her attending physician turned out to be one of Isabel's old admirers, bought off with a staggering sum. And that "voluntary transfer agreement" for the propertiesAntonia was already in a rush to cash out. She'd secretly contacted an underground money-laundering ring, planning to mortgage the real estate and move the assets offshore.

All of it happening right under Maxwell's nose, and that fool had no idea.

He was too busy posting melodramatic essays on social media, waxing poetic about the fragility of life and the weight of responsibility.

I scrolled through those nauseating posts and couldn't help but scoff.

Soon. Very soon, the charity gala everyone had been buzzing about would arrive.

Maxwell had gone all out for Antonia's big debutevery socialite, every media outlet in Cloudvale had received an invitation. He wanted the whole world to know what a loyal, devoted man Maxwell Gilbert was. And he wanted the whole world to pressure me, his cold-hearted wife, into handing over my bone marrow.

The day before the gala, Maxwell called.

His voice was hard as steel, laced with the tone of a man who expected absolute obedience.

"Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. The Grand Hyatt. You will be there, dressed to the nines."

"If you don't show up, I'm sending Lily to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere."

My grip tightened around the phone. I swallowed the fury clawing up my chest and kept my voice perfectly level. Not a single ripple.

"Of course. I'll be there right on time."

Maxwell seemed caught off guard by how easily I agreed. He let out a cold grunt and hung up.

I stared at the darkened screen, a slow, razor-thin smile curling at the corner of my lips.

"Are you ready for hell, Maxwell Gilbert?"

"I'm not just going to show up. I'm going to make sure none of you can ever show your faces in Cloudvale again."

I dialed K and gave the final set of instructions.

Everything was in place. All I needed now was the right moment.

The Grand Hyatt's ballroom glittered under a cascade of crystal chandeliers.

Maxwell had booked the entire top floor. The venue was dripping in extravagancetowering floral arrangements, champagne towers, the works.

I stepped through the entrance in a fitted wine-red couture gown, my hair swept up, my heels clicking against the marble. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me.

Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through dry grass.

"That's Mrs. Gilbert. I heard her husband's giving half his fortune to his ex-girlfriend's sister tonight."

"And he's pressuring her to donate bone marrow too. Can you imagine?"

"Right? But she looks like she can hold her own. How does a woman like that end up a doormat at home?"

I ignored every prying glance, every pitying smirk, and walked straight to the head table.

Maxwell stood there in an impeccably tailored suit, all smiles, shaking hands and trading pleasantries with his guests like a man on top of the world.

Antonia sat in a custom wheelchair, draped in a white chiffon dress, styled to look like some fragile angel plucked from a painting. If you overlooked the carefully applied pallor on her face, she really did look heartbreakingly delicate.

The moment Maxwell saw me approaching, a sharp warning flashed through his eyes.

"Good. You know what's good for you. When it's time to go on stage, play along. Don't embarrass me."

I gave him one cold, withering look and said nothing.

Antonia tugged timidly at the hem of my dress.

"Amy, thank you so much for coming. I'll find a way to repay you someday, I promise."

I pulled my dress free, not bothering to hide my disgust.

"Save your repayment. You'll need it where you're going."

The color drained from Antonia's face, and her eyes turned red in an instant.

Maxwell saw it and immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her like she was made of glass.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Amy? This is an important event. Are you seriously going to cause a scene?"

"I'm not causing a scene. I'm stating facts."

I picked up a glass of champagne, swirling it lazily, and fixed him with a gaze cold enough to freeze steel.

"Maxwell, I'll ask you one last time. Are you sure you want to transfer those shares to her?"

He scoffed, his tone final. "I've already signed. Tonight, I'm announcing it in front of everyone."

"You'd better not try anything, or I swear I won't let it slide."

"Fine." I nodded, tipping the champagne back in one smooth swallow. "Wonderful."

"Since you're so eager to dig your own grave, I'll hand you the shovel."

Before long, the gala reached its main event.

The emcee delivered a stirring account of Maxwell and Isabel's story, painting Maxwell as the picture of undying devotion, a man whose love transcended death itself.

Then Maxwell wheeled Antonia onto the stage.

Thunderous applause erupted across the hall.

He took the microphone, his gaze sweeping the audience with practiced emotion.

"Thank you all for being here tonight."

"As many of you know, Isabel gave her life to save mine all those years ago."

"That is a debt I will carry for the rest of my days."

"Now her sister, Antonia, is battling a terminal illness. As the man who loved Isabel, it is both my responsibility and my duty to look after her."

"That is why I've decided to transfer thirty percent of my shares in Gilbert Group to Antonia, free of charge."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Thirty percent of Gilbert Group. That was billions of dollars in assets.

Maxwell paused, and his gaze shifted deliberately to where I was sitting.

"I'd also like to thank my wife, Amy Fox."

"She has agreed to undergo bone marrow matching for Antonia, offering her own body to extend Antonia's life."

Every spotlight in the room swung onto me at once.

Hundreds of eyes turned my way, some filled with admiration, others with pity.

Onstage, Maxwell extended his hand toward me, beckoning.

"Amy, come up here. Let everyone witness your generosity."

I set my glass down slowly. Under the weight of every stare in the room, I walked toward the stage, one measured step at a time.

Maxwell thought I'd caved. A smug, self-satisfied smile spread across his face.

But the moment I took the microphone from his hand, that smile froze solid.

I swept my gaze across the sea of guests, and when I spoke, my voice rang out clear and steady.

"Good evening, everyone."

"Mr. Gilbert just told you a very touching story. Truly moving."

"However, he seems to have forgotten one rather important detail."

I turned to face Maxwell, my eyes cutting into him like a blade.

"I never agreed to donate bone marrow."

"And as for Ms. Antonia Henson here, she doesn't have leukemia at all."