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His Substitute Love, A Fatal Truth

His Substitute Love, A Fatal Truth

Author: Gavin
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Chapter 1

Word Count: 1943    |    Released on: 30/09/2025

the man who saved me. I thought he loved me, until his pregna

a fatal blood disease, my only hope

He watched as Katharine tormented me, f

A test: Katharine, the architect of m

plant. Now I'm starting over, leaving the ma

pte

Barlo

ine Macdonald' s pregnancy check-up was the day I learned

ated with healing. Today, it felt like the precursor to an autopsy-the death of my hope. I sat on a plu

rested possessively on the slight curve of her stomach, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles. A ge

beaming. "Ms. Macdonald and the baby are in perfect health. The first

five years trying to earn, and had only ever received in fleeting, precious moments. He directed it full

ce, usually a low baritone that commanded bo

nd that grated on my nerves. "Did you h

ba

the soft flesh of my palm, creating four perfect, bloody crescents. The sting w

girl he' d plucked from poverty. I had loved him for four years, eleven month

wealthier man. Now she was back-divorced, pregnant, and with a teenage son in tow. She returned t

her jaw. I used to think it was a coincidence. Now I knew the horrifying truth. I wa

to its usual cold timbre. The warmth was reserved exclusively for Katharine. "Go

fixed on Katharine as he helped her stand, his move

body feeling distant and disc

im Ambrose. He used to insist on it. Now, "Mr. Agui

. He had found me when I was seventeen, a malnourished orphan who had fainted from hunger on the street. He had taken me in, fed me, clothed me,

er my adoptive mother who had passed away. He' d built me a green

me believe I

. I was a substitute

my feet, and the bright fluorescent lights overhead splintered into a thousand tin

brought a trembling hand to my fa

t bone-deep, the spontaneous bruises that bloomed on my skin like pale, purple

stumbled into the nearest restroom, grabbing fistfuls of paper towels, but the bloo

wam. My kne

disinfectant even stronger here. A kind-faced, older doct

"I' m Dr. Evans. You lost consci

ead pounding. "I' m...

s very concerning. We need to admit you for a bone marrow biopsy, but based on

first. They were just medic

n?" I whispered, my

," he explained gently. "It' s a very serious condition. At this

he word held a

linging to it. "Ok

nce for a match is with a biological relative. A sibling, a p

ope shattered,

mi

underfunded home until I aged out. My adoptive mother, the only real family I' d

n my eyes. The pity in his

ed by the man I loved, I was a substitute for

on

ough the grime on my cheek. I thought of Ambrose, of the warmth in his eyes wh

ine was

ed up in my throat. I had nothin

sentence tucked into my purse. Ambrose and Katharine were gone

and staircase. He was holding her, his hand on her back, his

ice weak. I had to tell him. Maybe, just maybe, so

y on Katharine. "What took you so long? Katharine ne

nife. My pain, my fear, my impending death-it was all an inconven

ing on her lips. "Oh, Ambrose, don't be so harsh. She' s not use

ards me, her hand extended in a mockery

I was already weak, already off-balance, and the imp

the hard steps. But it was nothing compar

, catching Katharine in his arms, his face a mask o

ice laced with frantic concern. He never once looked at

voice muffled but perfectly audible. "I shouldn' t hav

yes, cold and furious, finally found

voice a low growl. "Yo

rms and rushed past me toward t

r my home. My head was bleeding. My back was screaming in protest. But the only thing I could f

ent. I told myself it was just the dust

e to leave

y pocket. It was my

s wrong? You

ine," I whispered,

ing I never told you. It' s weird, but... have you ever noticed how much you look

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