He Married Me Because My Adopted Sister Needed a Match

My parents always chose my adopted sister.

Even when we were kids, it was obvious. She cried once and the whole house bent around her. While me, I learned early to stay quiet because no one was coming for me anyway.

Then Joaquin came into my life.

He was my father’s close friend's son. Rich, powerful, the kind of billionaire people whispered about in California like he wasn’t even real. Cold eyes, sharp voice, never smiled unless it was for her. Everyone in those elite circles wanted him, but he only looked at me.

Back then, I thought I was special. God, I was stupid.

I said once that I liked the ocean at night, just casually, not even thinking about it, and the next week he bought a beachfront house in Malibu just so I could “sleep better with the sound of waves.”

I said I was craving strawberries in winter, and he had them flown in from another country like it was nothing.

One time I had a fever and he stayed up the whole night, pressing a cold towel to my forehead, whispering, “I’m here, Laureen. You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

Who wouldn’t fall for that?

He looked like a man who didn’t care about anyone, but with me, he was patient. Gentle. Like I was the only person in the world who mattered.

And I believed it.

On our wedding day, in front of everyone, he held my hand so tight like he was afraid I’d disappear. The room was full of people who envied me. I could feel their eyes burning into my back. He didn’t care. He just looked at me like I was everything.

After we got married, it got even worse. Or better. I didn’t know the difference anymore.

When I got pregnant, he practically stopped working. Meetings got canceled. Trips got postponed. Everything revolved around me.

If I woke up in the middle of the night uncomfortable, he was already awake, asking what I needed.

If I felt sick, he stayed right there, holding my hair, rubbing my back, murmuring soft things I can’t even remember now without it hurting.

I thought… maybe this was what it felt like to finally be chosen.

Stupid, right?

When I was 37th weeks pregnant, we went back to my parents’ house for dinner. I didn’t want to go. That place never felt like home. It never would.

But he insisted and said it mattered.

I should’ve asked why.

Dinner hadn’t even finished when everything went wrong.

I started feeling dizzy. My head spun, my vision blurred. At first I thought it was just pregnancy, just exhaustion. Then my body went weak.

“Joaquin…” I tried to call him, but my voice barely came out.

I looked up and saw my parents. They weren’t panicking. They weren’t even surprised.

They were already holding Elizabeth.

“Wait…” I whispered, reaching out. “Help me…”

They didn’t.

They walked past me.

Just like that.

My knees gave out and I hit the floor hard, my stomach slamming against the edge of the table and the pain was so sharp I couldn’t even scream properly.

The last thing I saw was the ceiling spinning.

Then everything went dark.

...

When I woke up, three days had passed and the hospital room felt empty.

Where was he?

I got out of bed without thinking, dragging the IV stand with me. My body hurt, but I didn’t care. I just needed to see him.

As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I heard his voice.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Joaquin’s voice was low but sharp, every word cutting. “Who told you to drug her like that?! She’s 37th weeks pregnant. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? You could’ve killed her and the baby.”

My chest tightened.

Drug…?

My mother sounded nervous. I’d never heard her like that.

“We didn’t have a choice,” she said. “Elizabeth’s condition is getting worse. The doctors already confirmed it. She needs a perfectly matched fetal stem cell transplant. We don’t have time to wait until the baby is born naturally. What if something goes wrong?”

My fingers went numb on the IV pole.

Fetal… stem cells…

My father spoke next, his voice lower. “We thought… if we did it now, if we extracted early, we could save Elizabeth before it’s too late…”

“Extract?” Joaquin’s voice turned dangerous. “You call that extraction?! That was reckless. That was stupid.”

There was a pause. Heavy.

Then he spoke again, slower this time.

“You think I don’t know what she needs?” he said quietly. “You think I haven’t planned for this?”

My heart started pounding so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“What do you mean planned?” my mother asked.

Joaquin let out a breath, like he was tired of explaining something obvious.

“I didn’t get close to Laureen by accident,” he said. “I didn’t marry her because I wanted to. And I definitely didn’t make sure she got pregnant at the exact right time for no reason.”

The hallway felt like it was closing in on me.

“I did it because Elizabeth needed a perfect match,” he continued. “Fetal stem cells from a genetically compatible baby. That was the only way to save her.”

Silence.

Then my mother whispered, “So everything was for Elizabeth?”

“Yes,” he said. No hesitation. “Everything.”

Something inside me shattered so completely it didn’t even hurt at first.

So that’s it?

That’s all I was?

A plan, a body, something to carry what they needed?

Joaquin’s voice dropped, colder than before.

“But you went too far. I told you I had a timeline. I would’ve handled the procedure safely. You don’t touch her again without my say. If anything happens to her before I’m done with this, you’ll regret it.”

“Y-yes… we understand,” my father said quickly. “We were just desperate…”

I stepped back before they could see me. My legs felt weak, barely holding me up. I made it to the stairwell and leaned against the wall, my whole body shaking.

Every memory hit me all at once. His voice. His hands. The way he looked at me.

I gripped the IV stand tighter, my nails digging into my skin.

He never loved me. Not even for a second.