Title: My Husband Chose His “Sister” Over Me During a Kidnapping ## In the eighth year of my marriage to Lucas, his so-called sister, Sarah, and I were kidnapped together. Lucas, a multimillionaire, showed up with ransom money—but only enough for one person. When forced to choose, he looked at me and said, “Claire, your dad’s wealthy. He’ll come for you. But Sarah only has me.” When I barely escaped and made it back home, the media was already celebrating their so-called “unbreakable bond.” When I finally stumbled back home, the media had swarmed the front of my father’s estate. Cameras were flashing, reporters were everywhere, and they were all focused on Lucas and Sarah. Lucas was holding Sarah tightly, and the reporters were eating up their story of “surviving together through thick and thin.” No one cared that Sarah was just the other woman in my marriage. To them, loyalty in marriage didn’t seem to matter as much as the fleeting thrill of “true love.” When I got out of the car, battered, bruised, and wearing the tattered remains of my clothes, the camera flashes turned their attention to me. My father rushed out with a large blanket, wrapping it around me, desperately trying to shield me from the prying eyes of the press. It didn’t matter. For a moment, I caught Lucas’s gaze. There was a flicker of shock on his face, quickly replaced by disgust. Pain rippled through my entire body, especially my abdomen. It felt like my insides had been torn apart. The pain was so overwhelming that I collapsed, losing consciousness. In my dreams, I was still with the kidnappers. Sarah had already been taken by Lucas. She had begged and pleaded with him not to call the police because the kidnappers had taken compromising photos of her. On the phone, Lucas had reassured her. He promised to bring the ransom money. But when he arrived, he only brought enough for one person. When the kidnappers forced him to choose, he held my hand tightly, his face full of false sincerity. “Claire, your dad’s rich. He’ll come for you. But Sarah only has me. You understand, don’t you?” I didn’t understand. All I knew was that the kidnappers were watching me closely, their eyes lingering on my torn clothes. I was terrified. Tears streaming down my face, I begged him, “Lucas, don’t leave me here. Pay for my release, and I’ll make sure my dad reimburses you!” Lucas lowered his head. “I’m sorry. My company is struggling right now. If I pull this money out, your dad might not help me. I’m sorry, Claire.” And just like that, he pulled his hand away, grabbed Sarah, and left. I didn’t even have the chance to tell him I was pregnant. I was carrying our baby—two months along. But those words would never be spoken. The kidnappers tore off what was left of my clothes, gagged me, and tied me to a post with barbed wire. As I struggled, the wire cut into my flesh, and I felt the life inside me slip away. Meanwhile, my father had no idea what was happening to me. Lucas returned home with Sarah, who was too traumatized to talk about what had happened. She refused to mention anything, and Lucas, my loving husband, didn’t bother to press her. The police couldn’t get any useful information from either of them. Time slipped away as they searched for me. By then, it didn’t matter how much money my father had. I had seen the kidnappers’ faces, and they planned to sell me to Southeast Asia. Luckily, during transport, they let their guard down, and I managed to escape. I crawled through mud, slept in dumpsters, and fought stray dogs for scraps of food. Against all odds, I made it back to the city, where the police finally found me. When my father saw me, he nearly collapsed but managed to steady himself long enough to wrap me in a blanket and carry me away. In my dreams, I saw a little girl with pigtails, wearing a princess dress. She waved at me and called out softly, “Mommy, Mommy, I forgive you.” I ran toward her, desperate, but she only drifted farther away until she disappeared completely. I woke up with a start to find Lucas sitting by my bed. The sight of him made me sick. “Why are you here? Get out. I don’t want to see you.” His face contorted with anger. “We’re married. Isn’t it normal for me to check on you?” Furious, I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” Lucas’s patience snapped. “You should be more like Sarah. At least she knows how to comfort me. All you do is yell and complain. I haven’t slept for days worrying about you, and this is how you act? You’re so spoiled!” I let out a bitter laugh. He hadn’t slept for days? How could that compare to the pain I endured? Every day, I was electrocuted, whipped, and burned with cigarettes. The kidnappers mocked me, saying my husband didn’t think I was worth the money. “Lucas,” I said through gritted teeth, “your heart must be made of the filthiest, most disgusting stone. You call yourself my husband? What kind of man leaves his wife with a group of violent criminals?” His expression softened slightly, as if he felt a shred of guilt. “You know my company’s cash flow is tight. I don’t come from money like you do. Your dad is rich. And besides, you’re back now, aren’t you? What’s the big deal?” At that moment, the door burst open, and my father stormed in. The second he saw Lucas, he lunged at him, ready to fight. Lucas shoved him away without hesitation. “Dad!” I screamed.
When I saw my dad hit the ground hard, Lucas finally seemed to snap out of it. “Dad, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you there!” He quickly stepped forward, trying to help my dad up, but my dad pushed him away with force. My father glared at him, his voice heavy with anger. “I don’t care if you saw me or not. Get out of here! My daughter needs rest!” Seeing my dad’s fury, Lucas obediently left. He knew full well that even though my family was bankrupt now, my dad’s connections were still far beyond anything he could handle. The moment Lucas was gone, I rushed to help my dad up, but he pulled me into his arms instead. “Claire, don’t be afraid. Dad’s here now,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. I clung to him tightly and started sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn’t understand—why was I always the second choice? I cried until exhaustion overtook me, and I fell into a deep sleep. The trauma of the past few days haunted my dreams. Strange, nightmarish visions filled my mind, pulling me into a distorted world where I was forced to confront the absurdity of my life. I saw myself as a naïve teenager, hopelessly infatuated with Lucas Rivers, the most popular boy in school. Every class seemed to have someone like him: smart, polite, and effortlessly charming. But Lucas’s life wasn’t as perfect as it appeared. His mother had been a victim of assault, and he was the child born from that violence. Shortly after his birth, his mother was institutionalized for schizophrenia, leaving Lucas to be raised by his grandparents. But they never treated him as their own. To them, he was a painful reminder of the tragedy that had ruined their daughter’s life. My sympathy for him marked the beginning of my own tragedy. We attended an elite class at our school, where half the students were there because of their grades, and the other half because of their family wealth. Lucas, always the top student, was the target of jealousy and bullying. That’s when I stepped in, defending him time and time again. At first, Lucas didn’t seem to care about me. He barely acknowledged my existence. But then one day, I got into a fight with another student who was mocking him. That student shoved me to the ground, and I fractured my wrist trying to break my fall. From that day on, Lucas started treating me differently. He began looking out for me in small ways, and I mistook that for something deeper.
Determined to stay close to him, I worked tirelessly to get into the same college as Lucas. My dad even approved of him. In my father’s eyes, Lucas was a rare talent—someone worth supporting. With my dad’s encouragement, I finally mustered the courage to confess my feelings to Lucas. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t reject me outright, either. Blinded by my feelings, I convinced myself that we were in a relationship. Lucas had a younger sister, Sarah Rivers. I’d known about her since high school. She wasn’t his biological sister. She was adopted by Lucas’s uncle, who raised her as his own. But what I didn’t know was that Sarah and Lucas had grown up together, and before starting high school, Lucas’s uncle had abruptly taken her away. On the day of our wedding, Sarah suddenly reappeared. She walked into the reception barefoot, covered in bruises and scratches, her blue dress stained with blood. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Lucas and cried, “I escaped, Lucas. Why didn’t you wait for me?” And just like that, the ring Lucas was about to place on my finger slipped from his hand. That night, my wedding night, Lucas didn’t come home. Instead, he stayed at the hospital with Sarah. I swallowed my bitterness and forced myself to accept it. After all, I was the one who had been chasing him all this time. The next morning, I changed into fresh clothes and prepared to visit the hospital. But before I could leave, my father stopped me at the door. “You’re going to the hospital, aren’t you? Don’t you dare. No daughter of mine will let herself be humiliated like this!” I begged him, tears streaming down my face. By then, I was already in too deep. Lucas had given me just enough attention over the years to fill my head with beautiful memories. I couldn’t let go. When I finally arrived at the hospital, I learned something that shocked me to my core. Sarah wasn’t Lucas’s uncle’s daughter. Years ago, Lucas’s uncle had sent her away because their relationship had crossed the line. They weren’t siblings—they were lovers. Lucas’s uncle had sent Sarah abroad and forbidden her from contacting Lucas, threatening to cut her off entirely if she disobeyed. Sarah had spent years working to free herself from her adoptive father’s control, determined to reunite with Lucas. On the day of my wedding, she had escaped and returned to him. I covered my mouth in horror as I listened to the story, then stumbled back to our empty marital home. When Lucas finally came back, I asked him for a divorce. But he refused. Instead, he insisted on consummating our marriage that night. What followed was a day of physical and emotional torment. Lucas showed no tenderness, and when he was done, he fell into a deep sleep, leaving me alone to cry in the dark. I slapped myself across the face, trying to wake up from the nightmare my life had become. But I couldn’t. So I told myself I’d try one more time. That “one more time” turned into eight years. Eight years of a marriage where I was nothing more than a third wheel to Lucas and Sarah. I was exhausted, drained, and ready to leave. But before I could file for divorce, Sarah and I were kidnapped together. And in that nightmare, I lost the child I had prayed for all those years. When I woke up in the hospital, my father’s hair had turned gray overnight. But soon, an even more devastating piece of news arrived. Somehow, during the beatings and torture I endured, a tumor in my stomach had ruptured. The cancer had spread. At best, I had three months left to live.
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