My Husband Sold Me to the Mafia for My Kidney

On a night of torrential rain, I fled barefoot from the hell of Southeast Asia back to my home, my soles streaming with blood all the way.

I endured three years in a water dungeon, with blood drawn and medicines tested on me every single day. All ten of my fingernails were pulled out completely. I’d thought that what awaited me would be the heartfelt compassion of my loved ones.

My husband handed me the organ-donation agreement, and my older brother coldly accused me of bringing this on myself.

“Lily has kidney failure, and your tissue match is perfect.”