Chapter 1

After my miscarriage, my abdomen felt like it had been crushed by a truck.

My husband William walked in wearing his white coat.

He pulled off his gloves while coldly informing me:

"It's good this baby's gone. Now we can remove part of your uterus and transplant it to Juliet."

I thought I'd misheard. I weakly asked:

"What did you say? Who's Juliet?"

His eyes held no warmth, as if looking at an organ container:

"My first love. She has congenital underdeveloped uterus and can't be a mother. You have a good constitution. We won't be having children anyway, so you might as well help her out."

I struggled to sit up, disbelief filling my eyes:

"William, I'm your wife! You want me to give my organs to your old flame?"

He pressed down on my shoulder, his tone brooking no argument:

"This is the medically optimal solution. It's also your chance to atone."

"Atone? What did I do wrong?"

He looked down at me from above, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses:

"You've occupied the position that should have been hers for five years. That's your mistake. I've already signed the surgical consent form for you. If you don't cooperate, I'll stop your father's medication tomorrow."

I lay on the cold operating table, staring at the blinding surgical light overhead.

So in his heart, I wasn't even a person. Just a spare parts warehouse.