He Stole My Eyes For Her

I traded my life as the secret heiress to the Whitmore empirethe crown jewel of Manhattans eliteto marry Christopher Whitmore.

I thought love was enough. I thought he was my sanctuary. But the day before our wedding, a car accident shattered my world.

When I drifted back to consciousness, the world was gone. Everything was black. I was blind.

Struggling to move, I heard Christophers voice from the shadows of the hospital room. He was talking to his assistant, his tone as cold as a winter morning.

"Don't worry, sir," the assistant whispered. "The driver and the surgeons have been taken care of. They won't breathe a word. But Madeline lived for her painting. Now that her corneas have been harvested for Miss Miller what if she cant handle the truth when she wakes up?"

"Shes resilient," Christopher replied, his voice devoid of the warmth I had cherished for years. "Not like Becca. Becca is fragile. She wouldnt survive another day in the dark. Besides, Madeline has me now. Ill provide for her for the rest of her life. I love her, but I cannot lose Becca."

There was a pause, a heavy silence that made my skin crawl. Then, his voice dropped an octave, raspy and merciless.

"And tell the doctor to perform the hysterectomy while she's under. If Becca sees Madeline carrying my child, it will break her."

The assistant hesitated, his voice trembling. "But sir isn't that too much? Madeline has been with you since she was eighteen. She gave up everything"

"Just do it. Don't ask questions."

A wave of glacial horror washed over me. I lay there, paralyzed, my body shaking with a primal, silent terror.

The man I had loved unconditionally, the man I had sacrificed my identity for, had been in love with the girl Id spent years sponsoringa charity case Id plucked from the gutter.

He wasn't just choosing her. He was systematically dismantling me to make her whole.

If you want to destroy me, Christopher, I thought, my heart turning into a shard of ice, youd better make sure I never get back up.

Footsteps echoed in the sterile room. I forced my breathing to remain shallow, feigning unconsciousness.

"Mr. Whitmore," the surgeons voice was strained. "Madeline just underwent the cornea retrieval. Shes incredibly weak. If we proceed with the hysterectomy now, theres a high risk of complications. She might not survive the"

"Im paying you for results, not suggestions," Christopher interrupted. "This is a directive. But understand this: if anything happens to Madeline on that table, youre finished."

"Yes, sir," the doctor stammered.

I felt the heat of Christophers fingers against my cheek. His touch, once my only comfort, now felt like the crawl of a spider. His voice was a honeyed lie.

"Maddy, itll all be over soon. Ill be here when you wake up. Ill protect you forever. I love you, baby."

My body betrayed me with a slight shiver. I felt a coldness on my facehe had stood up. Sensing I was coming to, his tone flipped back to a frigid command.

"Where is the anesthesiologist? Get the surgery started. I want this finished before she fully regains consciousness."

I forced my eyes open. Nothing. Only the terrifying, suffocating void.

The tears came then, hot and involuntary. I reached out into the empty air, my hands trembling.

"I I cant see. Why cant I see?"

"Maddy, don't panic. Im here. Im right here."

Christopher pulled me into a tight embrace. His large, warm hand stroked my hair, his voice dripping with performative heartbreak.

"There was an accident the doctors say the blindness is temporary. Just a trauma response. Im going to take care of you, Maddy"

I felt him nod to someone behind me.

"Sweetheart, youre still so weak. You need to stay calm. Let the nurse give you a sedativejust some nutrients to help you recover."

If I hadn't heard him earlier, I would have believed him. I would have thanked him. Now I knew the "nutrients" were the anesthesia that would allow him to rob me of my womanhood.

I gripped his arm, my voice cracking with desperation.

"No Chris, please. No needles. I want to go home. Take me home, please..."

Before I could finish, the bite of a cold needle pierced my skin.

As the darkness deepened and my consciousness began to slip, I heard his voice, as gentle as a lullaby and as sharp as a scalpel.

"Be a good girl, Maddy. Just sleep. When you wake up, everything will be fine. Im right here."

A single tear tracked down my temple and vanished into my hair.

My body was going numb, but the ache in my chest was screaming. I closed my eyes, and for a fleeting second, I saw the eighteen-year-old Christopher. I saw him crying by my bed after hed taken a knife meant for me during a mugging in a rainy Chicago alley.

I heard his teenage voice, raw and fierce: "I swear, Maddy, I will never let anyone hurt you again."

What a joke. The person who wanted me dead was the boy who had once saved my life.

When I woke up again, I hadn't just lost my sight and my lover. I had lost the future. I would never hold a child of my own.

The room was silent, save for the rhythmic hiss of my own labored breathing. Then, the muffled sound of an argument drifted in from the hallway.

"Madeline was involved in a horrific crash! I have to see her," a womans voice cried outhigh, sweet, and manipulative. "Shes been so good to me. Without her, Id still be in that shelter. I owe her my life. Don't stop me..."

It was Becca Miller.

Christopher, a man who tolerated no insolence from anyone, answered her with a tenderness that made my stomach turn.

"Becca, listen to me. Your transplant was a success, but youre still healing. The doctors said you can't be walking around yet. Madeline is being looked after. You don't need to worry about her."

I clutched the bedsheets until my knuckles ached. When had Becca gone blind? Why hadn't I known?

Suddenly, a sharp pain flared in the back of my hand. A nurse was shoving an IV needle into my vein with zero grace.

"Stop moving!" she hissed, her voice dripping with irritation. She pressed down harder than necessary, a silent warning. "Just my luck. The other girls get to wait on the new Mrs. Whitmore in the VIP wing, and Im stuck with the blind girl."

She muttered under her breath, loud enough for me to hear. "If Miss Miller likes me, maybe shell put in a word with Mr. Whitmore. Then I wont have to look at pathetic losers like you anymore..."

CRAASH!

The sound of a glass vial shattering on the floor cut through her vitriol.

"Who the hell do you think" the nurse started, then choked. "Mr Mr. Whitmore. I didn't see you there..."

"Get out," Christophers voice was a low, terrifying growl. "Never show your face in this hospital again."

The familiar warmth of his presence surrounded me. I felt him sit on the edge of the bed, his body trembling slightly. He sounded shattered.

"Im so sorry, Maddy. Im so sorry I wasn't here. I should have protected you from her..."

I forced a brittle smile onto my face.

Compared to what he had actually doneharvesting my eyes and hollowing out my bodya rude nurse was nothing. But he acted as though he was devastated by it. He held me so tightly I could barely breathe.

"I don't want to stay here," I whispered. "I want to go home."

His warm breath tickled my neck. "As soon as the doctors clear you, Im taking you home."

He didn't realize that the "home" I was thinking of wasn't the glass-walled penthouse we shared in Chicago. It was the Whitmore estate in New York.

Years ago, during a violent internal power struggle within my family, my father had hidden me in Chicago to keep me safe. I was cornered in an alley when Christopher intervened, taking a blade for me.

In that moment, I fell in love with a hero.

We went to college together. We were the "it" couple, the kind people whispered about. Then Becca appeared. I saw her eating plain bread in the library, a brilliant student with nothing to her name. I felt for her. I funded her tuition, her rent, her life. We became "best friends."

I never knew when they started sharing a bed. I never knew when he stopped loving me and started loving the girl Id "saved."

Christopher tucked a stray hair behind my ear, his voice softer than Id ever heard it.

"Maddy, the wedding is still on for tomorrow. I want to bring you home officially. I want you to be my wife."

The wedding of my dreams had become a waking nightmare.

"No," I said softly, shaking my head.

Christopher paused, clearly not expecting resistance. He took a deep breath, his voice patient. "I know youre scared. But everything is arranged. No one will dare say a word about your condition. Becca will be your maid of honorshell guide you through the ceremony."

He leaned in closer. "And our officiant? Its Everett Whitmore himself. I promised you the most magnificent wedding in the country, and Im delivering."

At the mention of my oldest brothers name, my fingers dug into Christophers sleeve.

My family didn't know I was in the city, let alone that I was the one Christopher was marrying. I had cut ties after a massive blow-up over an arranged marriage years ago. I hadn't spoken to Everett in forever.

A lump formed in my throat. I couldn't imagine the look on Everetts face when he saw me like thisbroken, blind, and discarded.

Suddenly, a weight settled on my arm, accompanied by a frantic, high-pitched voice.

"Madeline! Oh my god, Ive been so worried! Ill be your eyes now, I promise. Ill take care of you forever..."

Christopher cut her off, a hint of guilt flickering in his tone. "Don't say that, Becca. The blindness is temporary."

Becca caught the hint immediately. She leaned her head on my shoulder, her voice saccharine sweet. "Of course! Im so silly. Youll probably be fine by tomorrow morning. Youll be the most beautiful bride. Im so happy for you, Madeline."

It was thisthis mask of wide-eyed innocencethat had blinded me to her venom for years.

Later, the assistant brought the wedding dress. Christopher left, leaving me alone with Becca.

"Madeline," she whispered, her voice no longer sweet. "I heard you designed this dress yourself? Its stunning. Too bad the measurements are a bit loose on me."

The sound of fabric ripping was deafening in the quiet room.

I knew she was shredding my masterpiece.

"You're blind, Madeline. A dress this beautiful is wasted on a corpse. You look much better in those hospital rags."

Suddenly, a searing, agonizing pain erupted in my eye sockets. It felt like liquid fire was being poured directly into my brain.

I tried to scream, but the air wouldn't come. I reached up to claw at the bandages, my hands shaking.

Beccas hand clamped onto my wrist like a vice. Her voice was a hiss of pure malice.

"You think the accident blinded you? You're so naive. I mentioned I liked your eyes, and Christopher didn't even hesitate. He took them for me. But honestly? I don't even want them. They feel dirty. Id rather throw them to the dogs."

She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. "Just leave, Madeline. If you stay, do you think hed hesitate to kill you if I asked?"

The chemical shed splashed on my bandages continued to burn, but the pain in my soul was worse.

Hearing the sound of heavy dress shoes approaching, Beccas demeanor shifted instantly. She roughly wiped the liquid from my face and shoved my hand upward, making it look like I was striking out.

Slap! My palm stung as it hit her cheek.

A second later, a massive force shoved me back. My head hit the wall with a sickening thud, and my ears began to ring.

"Madeline! Have you lost your mind? Why are you attacking Becca? Shes fragile!"

I couldn't see his face, but Christophers voice was vibrating with a rage Id never heard. This was the first time in years he had ever raised his voice at me.

"Apologize to her!" he roared. "Now! Or the wedding is off!"

He knew how much Id wanted this. For years, my only dream was to walk down the aisle and become his wife.

I played my part. I bowed my head, looking like a chastened child, even as the stinging in my eyes pulsed.

"Im sorry, Becca," I whispered, my voice trembling with actual physical pain.

Christophers cold voice came from the doorway. "Eight o'clock tomorrow. The car will be here."

He had no idea. Tomorrow wasn't a wedding. It was an escape.

The next morning, the assistant arrived. As Becca had predicted, I was forced into the car still wearing my hospital gown.

When we arrived at the venue, I felt Beccas silk dress brush against my ankles. She draped a heavy lace veil over my head.

She let out a cruel little laugh. "Happy wedding day, Madeline. You think the veil makes you a bride? Its just to hide those hideous eyes so you don't embarrass him."

Before she could say more, Christophers voice cut through.

"Where is the dress? Madeline, are you doing this to spite me? Youre showing up to our wedding like this?"

The assistant hurried me toward the dressing room. I started to peel off the hospital gown, my hands fumbling in the dark.

Suddenly, a mans voicebreathless and predatoryerupted from behind me.

"A blind one, huh? But damn, shes a looker. Stay quiet, sweetheart. Let Daddy show you a good time."

Hands grabbed me, tearing at my remaining clothes. I fought with everything I had, but I was too weak. I leaned forward and bit down on his arm as hard as I could.

"You little bitch!" The man snarled, throwing me to the floor. His heavy breathing was right over me.

My shirt was ripped open just as the dressing room door flew open. A womans sharp, staged scream filled the air.

"Madeline! Oh my god! How could you do this on your wedding day? To Christopher?"

The man over me stopped, huffing. "She threw herself at me," he said loudly. "I didn't realize she was the bride. I don't want a blind woman anyway."

The room flooded with voicescondemnation, disgust, mockery.

"I can't believe the Whitmore bride is a blind slut!"

"Cheating on him in the dressing room? What a tramp."

I huddled on the floor, clutching the rags of my clothes to my chest, my body shaking violently.

Then, the room went dead silent. Heavy, deliberate footsteps approached.

"Madeline. You betrayed me."

A hand clamped around my throat, squeezing hard. I could feel the heat radiating from Christophers body, the sheer force of his fury.

"I didnt" I gasped, the world spinning.

He slammed me back against the floor, then grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging into the bone.

"You know I hate betrayal more than anything. You must be truly insane to do this with a man like that. Fine. There will be no wedding today."

He stood up, his voice echoing with finality.

"Take her away. Get her to the psychiatric ward at St. Judes."

As guards grabbed my arms, my heart plummeted. If I was locked in a psych ward, Id never reach my family. Id be buried alive.

I fought back, tearing myself away and running blindly into the corridor.

"Get her!" Christopher yelled.