My daughter had congenital heart disease. After ten years of waiting, a donor heart finally became available.

I immediately called my husband—a heart transplant specialist—but his voice on the other end was ice cold.

"The donor heart can't go to Lily Acevedo anymore. Mia Simmons's son was in a car accident. The heart has to go to him."

"Tell Lily for me that Daddy believes she's the strongest little girl in the world. She can hold on until the next donor comes."

"Charles Abbott! Lily—"

"Althea Pruitt, as a doctor's wife, you shouldn't be saying anything more right now."

"I have to go. I'm turning off my phone to prep for surgery."

"Tell Lily I'll make her favorite sweet and sour ribs when I get home tonight..."

The call ended amid a chorus of voices praising Charles.

I watched my daughter on the hospital bed, her face slowly turning purple, then deathly pale...

In the morgue, as I changed Lily into her final clothes, I saw Mia's social media post:

"Thank you, Charles, for giving my son a second chance at life. From today on, he is Bryce Adams's real father."

At that same moment, Charles called.

"Althea, we're celebrating Bryce's new life tonight, so I won't be home for dinner. Tell Lily I'll make the sweet and sour ribs tomorrow instead."

The phone slipped from my limp hand and crashed to the floor.

I screamed into it like a madwoman.

"Charles, Lily is dead...! You killed her...!"

——

"Althea, what are you yelling about?!"

His voice came through sharp with anger.

"What did you just say? It's too loud here—I didn't catch that. Say it again."

I picked up the phone.

I looked at Lily beside me, her body long since cold.

Forcing my trembling body under control, I managed to speak.

"Charles, Lily—"

"Enough!"

"Althea, are you done?!"

He cut me off brutally.

"What is wrong with you? I know you're anxious because Lily's health is bad, but you can't resent other people's children for doing well!"

"Remember—as Mrs. Abbott, you need to maintain your grace and compassion."

"Charles, hurry up! Bryce is waiting for his daddy to blow out the candles!"

Mia's coquettish voice drifted through the phone. Charles's tone instantly brightened.

"Anyway, Althea, I have to go. You and Lily get some rest. She needs to stay healthy so she's ready for the next donor..."

"Charles, Lily is dead!"

I screamed it into the phone, tearing my throat raw.

But there was no response.

I clutched the phone and realized the call had already ended.

I found Charles on WeChat and typed with shaking hands:

[Charles, Lily is dead. You killed her.]

The moment I sent it, a red exclamation mark appeared.

Charles had blocked me.

I tried every way I could think of to reach him. Every single one was blocked.

Another body was wheeled into the morgue.

The gurney bumped against Lily's, and her rigid body slid off and hit the floor.

Old Mr. Lambert rushed over, helping me lift her back onto the table. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Please don't worry—the hospital has been trying to reach Dr. Abbott, but no one can get through..."

I watched him hurry away, then collapsed over Lily's cold body and wept.

When Lily was first diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I had felt a secret relief.

Though Lily was gravely ill, Charles was a heart transplant specialist—that should have meant something.

But all these years, his heart was never in this family. Never with Lily.

The first time a suitable donor appeared, Lily was five.

I brought her to the hospital, hope burning in my chest.

The administrator told me Charles had given the heart to Mia Simmons's mother.

That night, Charles held me while I fell apart. He even shed tears.

"Althea, Lily can wait a little longer, but Mia's mother can't. She's the only family Mia has left in this world. Mia is devoted to her—if her mother dies, I'm afraid Mia won't survive it either. I can't watch my student die in front of me. You understand, don't you?"

I swallowed the bitterness. Watched Lily grow weaker by the day. Prayed we'd find another match soon.

By some miracle, the following year, another donor appeared.

This time, Charles didn't even tell me. He simply intercepted the heart and gave it to someone else.

I only found out afterward: the recipient was a child from Mia's village, a neighbor's kid.

I screamed. I fought. All I got in return was Charles growing colder.

I consulted relationship experts online. They told me I should try harder to please him. Maybe if I kept him happy, he wouldn't do this again.

So I did. Even in the bedroom, where his demands grew increasingly degrading, I gave him everything he wanted.

The humiliation. The heartache. But for Lily, I had no choice.

It worked. Charles smiled more at home.

But Lily's body deteriorated by the day.

Three months ago, the doctors delivered an ultimatum: if Lily didn't receive a transplant this year, she never would.

I told Charles countless times. Begged him.

And heaven answered—another donor matched.

But this time, he gave that chance at life to Mia Simmons's son.

"Hey, did you hear? That heart transplant Director Abbott performed today—that little boy didn't even need it!"

The nurses' chatter outside the morgue froze the blood in my veins.

I pressed myself against the door.

Fragments of conversation drifted through.

"I know, right? The car accident was nothing serious. The assistant even tried to intervene—said they should save the heart for Lily. But Director Abbott lost his temper on the spot. Insisted the boy needed the transplant, said recovery would be better this way, that the parents would feel more at ease."

"This is the third time, isn't it? You think there's something going on between him and that student, Mia? Why else would he be deranged enough to sacrifice his own daughter's life for her?"

"Shh! The girl's body is right there in the morgue—keep your voice down!"

The voices faded.

I stared at the recording I'd just captured on my phone.

My legs gave out. I slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor.

So Bryce never needed that heart.

So that heart was always meant for Lily.

Just hours ago, Lily had been prepping for surgery, every smile and gesture seared into my memory.

She'd stood there in her hospital gown, so small, holding my hand. Braver than I ever was.

"Mommy, don't worry. Daddy will bring me back safe and sound."

"Daddy's a hero. He's saved so many kids—he'll definitely save me too."

Over and over, I stroked her face—that face now mottled blue from suffocation.

I had told her:

"That's right, sweetheart. In just a few hours, you'll be running and jumping with all the other children..."

The anesthesia flowed into Lily's small body. Slowly, she drifted away.

I waited and waited, but Charles never came. When I finally called him, what I got instead was Lily's death sentence.

I wanted to rush out and confront Charles like a madwoman. The moment I burst through the door, I ran straight into his assistant, who fell to his knees at my feet, sobbing, telling me it was too late.

That beating heart had already been transplanted into Bryce's body.

They'd injected the pre-surgery drugs. The operation never happened. My Lily was gone forever.

Lily's smile, her laughter, her little voice—all of it tangled together with Charles's cold, clinical tone. Hatred crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I forced myself to stay calm. I turned around, went to Charles's office, and took the key to the medical records room.

A few minutes later, the surveillance footage of Charles performing Bryce's surgery was saved on my phone.

I curled up in the hospital corridor, watching the recording.

In the operating room, Charles issued his orders without a shred of hesitation:

"Transplant the donor heart into Bryce."

"But Dr. Abbott, this child doesn't need a transplant! This heart was meant for Lily—Lily can't wait any longer—"

"Shut up! A few meals from my wife and you forget whose side you're on?!"

"This heart goes to Bryce! Lily can wait for the next one!"

"If she can't handle a little hardship, she doesn't deserve to be my child!"

The hardship Bryce couldn't handle, Lily had to bear instead.

Charles. What a selfless, devoted Director Abbott.

I gripped my phone until my knuckles went white.

Charles. You killed Lily. And now your brilliant career is over.

After I made sure Lily was properly taken care of in the morgue, I dragged my exhausted body home.

The moment I opened the door, I saw Mia and Bryce sprawled across my sofa.

At the sound of the lock, Charles emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron.

"Althea, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and change your shoes—come help me in the kitchen!"

He gestured toward Mia and Bryce on the couch, a flicker of bashfulness crossing his face.

"Bryce's surgery was a success, so Mia brought him over to thank me. And you too, of course—his wonderful mentor's wife."

"Come on, don't just stand there. We have guests! Go make them feel welcome!"

"Oh, and I haven't seen Lily since I got home. Where did that girl run off to? Call her back—she should be here playing with Bryce!"

Mia looked up at me lazily from the sofa, wearing my slippers, her smile thin and reluctant.

Bryce's snack crumbs had fallen onto Lily's slippers, leaving a large greasy stain.

Lily had always been so careful about keeping things clean.

Humiliation upon humiliation pressed against my chest until I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I slammed the door with all my strength and pointed at Lily's empty room, screaming like a woman possessed:

"Charles! Lily is dead!"

In an instant, the lively room went deathly silent.

Charles froze.

He poked his head out from the kitchen and stared at me.

After a long moment, his voice turned ice-cold.

"Althea, this again? It's getting old. Bryce just got out of surgery, and you're going on about death? Who exactly are you putting on this show for?"

"Lily's been spoiled rotten by you. Guests come over and she's nowhere to be found—off running wild somewhere. If she doesn't want to come home that badly, then fine—don't come back at all! Mia and Bryce can sleep in her room tonight."

"And you, Althea—if you insist on ruining the mood, then you can leave too!"

He waved Bryce over from the sofa.

"Go on, Bryce. You've always wanted to sleep in your big sister Lily's room, haven't you? Tonight, it's all yours!"

The moment Bryce heard this, he scrambled off the couch and darted toward Lily's room.

Mia hurried after him.