Five years had already slipped by since the day my fiancé, Adrian, died in a tragic accident. He wasn’t only the man I loved for the first time—he was also my personal bodyguard. He had promised, again and again, that nothing would ever harm me. Yet in the end, he was the one who disappeared, leaving me behind with nothing but grief.

Still, his death did not end in complete emptiness. Adrian’s family chose to donate his heart, refusing to let it be buried along with him. The recipient was Dominic Blackwood—the only heir of an influential family, and Adrian’s longtime friend.

It felt cruel and comforting all at once.

Knowing that Adrian’s heart continued to beat inside another man’s chest became the reason I agreed when Dominic asked me to move in with him. There was no engagement, no vows, no white dress waiting at the end of a chapel aisle. Only quiet words meant to soothe two broken people.

“Stay,” he told me back then. “Even without marriage. Stay with me. That way… you’ll still be close to his heart.”

So I said yes.

I convinced myself that if I remained by Dominic’s side, if I rested my head against his chest and listened closely at night, I might still feel traces of Adrian there. Maybe love didn’t truly die—maybe it simply changed forms.

Five years passed like that.

And five years can do many things to a heart.

Dominic never rushed me. He never pressured me. He stayed gentle, attentive, endlessly patient. He made sure I ate. He listened when I cried. He teased me when I smiled too little. Somewhere along the way, without my permission, my heart betrayed its grief.

I fell in love again.

Not because of the heart beating in his chest—but because of Dominic himself.

That was why, on the night of our fifth anniversary, I finally gathered the courage I had been holding back for years. I took out the silver ring he once gave me—a simple promise ring I had never dared to answer—and slid it onto my finger. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I waited until we were standing on the cruise deck, the ocean stretching endlessly beneath the glow of warm lights.

“Dominic,” I murmured, barely trusting my own voice. “I’m ready.”

He turned to look at me, surprise flickering across his face.

I raised my hand, letting the ring glint softly. “I want to get married. I finally understand now—it’s not about Adrian anymore. It’s you. You’re the one I choose.”

I thought he would smile. I thought he would pull me into his arms.

Instead, he laughed under his breath.

“Marriage?” he said, leaning back. “I don’t see why we need to rush into something like that.”

The words struck me hard. “What… what are you saying?”

He swirled the wine in his glass, his expression detached. “Work has been overwhelming. The company is consuming all my time. Maybe next year. Or later.”

“Later?” I echoed, my throat tightening. “You said you would wait. You promised me.”

He frowned. “And you turned me down back then, Seraphina. That was your decision. Don’t put this on me now.” His tone sharpened. “Besides, marriage doesn’t really benefit me at this point. You don’t contribute to the business. You don’t even bring connections or family ties. What exactly would change?”

I felt frozen in place. “I left everything behind for you,” I whispered. “I ignored everyone who warned me not to live like this—with no marriage, no security. I chose you.”

Dominic’s lips curled into something mocking. “And now you want to act like a victim? Don’t lie to yourself. You stayed because of Adrian’s heart. You wanted him close—even if it wasn’t really him. You used me just as much.”

My chest burned. “But you know it wasn’t like—”

“Eat your dinner,” he snapped, standing up. “I have other matters to deal with tonight.”

Before I could say another word, his phone rang.

He answered, and I caught the butler’s frantic voice through the speaker. “Sir Dominic, Miss Helena was injured. Her husband assaulted her. She’s been rushed to the hospital.”

Dominic’s color drained instantly. He didn’t explain. He didn’t look back.

He simply left.

The name echoed painfully in my head—Helena.

Six years ago, Helena had been Dominic’s fiancée. She left him the moment she learned about his heart condition, choosing a healthier, wealthier man instead. And in that same week, Adrian died.

Adrian and Dominic had been close since college—friends bound by years of shared memories, rivalry, and loyalty. That was why Adrian’s family agreed to the transplant. They believed they were honoring their son’s bond, allowing his heart to live on.

When Dominic survived the surgery, he fell apart. Helena was gone, and he saw no reason to keep living. I stayed beside him then, even as I grieved my own loss—knowing the heart beating inside him once belonged to the man I loved.

It was during that broken time that Dominic proposed to me.

I refused. I wasn’t ready. I thought living together would be enough.

Everyone hated my decision.

My parents accused him of manipulating me. Adrian’s parents looked at me as if I had committed an unforgivable sin. “That heart does not make him Adrian,” his mother told me through tears.

But I stayed anyway.

Because I wanted to believe that something good could grow from all that pain.

Now, with Helena back, I understood the truth.

There was no place for me.

I remained on the cruise, unmoving, while laughter and music echoed around me. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t breathe. I drifted to the deck, staring at the black sea beneath a sky heavy with storm clouds.

“Where am I supposed to go?” I whispered.

Rain began to fall. People scattered. I stayed.

Thunder cracked. The ship lurched violently. Screams followed.

A sudden impact threw me backward. Another wave surged.

I grabbed the railing—but my hands slipped.

And the ocean swallowed me.

Then everything went dark.

At first, there was emptiness.

I couldn’t feel the hospital bed beneath me. I couldn’t sense the weight of my arms or legs. Even the burning pain that should have filled my lungs—lungs that had swallowed seawater instead of air—was absent. My body lay motionless, hollow, as if abandoned. Yet my mind floated somewhere in between, neither fully asleep nor awake, drifting in a fog of half-awareness.

That was when voices seeped through the darkness.

“Sir, we can’t take any more blood.” The doctor’s voice trembled with urgency. “She nearly drowned. Her lungs were flooded. Her body is already failing. If we continue, she won’t survive—especially when she’s carrying your child.”

Pregnant?

The word echoed violently in my head, snapping something awake inside me. No. That couldn’t be right. I had never suspected it—not once. My body had always been unpredictable, my cycle unreliable. And Dominic and I were careful. Always. Protection. Precautions. I never allowed myself to hope for a child because hope required certainty—and we didn’t even have marriage.

Then I heard him.

Dominic’s voice sliced through the room, cold and merciless.

“I don’t care if she’s pregnant,” he said flatly. “And if she dies, then she dies. What does it matter?” His next words were even crueler. “Her blood matches Helena’s. Helena needs it more. If I have to choose, I’ll pick Helena every time. Seraphina is nothing. She isn’t even my wife. Proceed.”

The machines hummed louder, blending into an unbearable roar. My thoughts shattered. I wanted to scream, to move, to beg them to stop—but my body refused to obey. The darkness rushed back in, swallowing everything whole.

When I surfaced again, pain greeted me like a tidal wave.

My veins felt hollow, my muscles screamed, and my entire body throbbed as though life itself had been siphoned out of me. The words I’d heard before tangled with my thoughts. Had it really happened? Or was it just a nightmare born from trauma?

A nurse noticed my eyes flutter open and approached with a tight, sympathetic smile. “Miss Seraphina, please don’t move. You lost a significant amount of blood. You were rescued after drowning and brought here unconscious. You need rest.”

My throat burned as I swallowed. “I… was I pregnant?” The question barely made it past my lips.

She paused, surprise flickering across her face before her expression softened. “There’s no indication of that in your records.”

But I knew. I had heard them. I felt it—in the aching emptiness deep inside me. My chest tightened, my womb felt unbearably hollow. Tears slid silently down my temples.

“What about… my husband?” The word tasted bitter even as I said it. Dominic wasn’t my husband. Just the man I had loved. The man who carried Adrian’s heart. The man I had trusted with everything.

“Did anyone come to see me?” I asked.

The nurse hesitated before shaking her head. “No. You’ve been unconscious for three days. No visitors.”

I forced my lips into a fragile smile. “Please… I want to be alone.”

Once she left, the silence crushed me.

That was when the real pain settled in—not the physical agony, but the kind that gnawed relentlessly at the soul. I had mistaken familiarity for love. I had believed five years of devotion meant commitment. I had convinced myself that his care was genuine.

But to him, I had never been love.

I was convenience. I was pity. I was a substitute.

And I was foolish enough to mistake borrowed warmth for permanence.

My thoughts drifted back to Adrian.

Adrian—reckless, fearless, alive in every sense of the word. He had never made me doubt my worth. With him, love was certain. Honest. Fierce. If he were alive, he would never have abandoned me in a hospital bed. He would have fought the world for me.

And now his heart beat inside the man who destroyed me.

The irony was unbearable.

I waited all day, staring at the door, hoping Dominic would walk in. He never did.

By nightfall, something inside me finally broke.

Ignoring the pain tearing through my body, I forced myself out of bed, the IV tugging sharply at my arm. The hallway was dim, eerily quiet. That was when I heard it—his voice.

I froze in place.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to stay here?” Helena murmured softly. “What about Seraphina? You took so much of her blood for me.”

Dominic laughed under his breath. “She’ll survive. And even if she doesn’t—so what? She’s insignificant.” His voice hardened. “The baby’s gone anyway. She’ll never find out.”

The world tilted.

Baby. Gone. Never know.

He continued without mercy. “I never loved her. I pitied her.” His voice faltered briefly before turning sharp again. “Adrian died because of me. I was drunk. I hit his car. I killed him. His family gave me his heart out of sympathy, never knowing the truth. When you left me, I was shattered. So I used her. She was nothing more than a replacement. But now you’re back—and divorced—let’s finally get married.”

Helena gasped. “Dominic… yes. I would love to. I always regretted leaving you.”

My stomach churned violently. I pressed myself against the wall, barely holding myself upright.

Every truth he revealed ripped something out of me.

Dominic—the man I had loved for five years—was the reason Adrian was dead. All the nights I mourned, all the tears I shed, I never imagined the monster lay beside me. He had killed Adrian. Then he took his heart. Then he took my life, piece by piece.

The man who carried Adrian’s heart was the very one who destroyed him.

My breath came out in broken gasps. Grief tangled with rage until I couldn’t separate them anymore.

I staggered away blindly, desperate to escape. My gaze landed on a phone resting on a nearby desk. With shaking hands, I grabbed it.

There was only one number I had memorized. One final lifeline.

When the call connected, my voice cracked completely. “Brother… it’s me. Seraphina.”

There was silence. Then a sharp breath.

“Do you still care about me?” I whispered through tears. “If you do… please help me.” My hands clenched the receiver. “Help me disappear. Help me fake my death.”

“Do you still care about me?”

Hot tears spilled freely, splashing onto the phone as I pressed it tightly against my ear. My voice fractured under the weight of everything I was holding back. “If you do… please. I’m begging you. Help me disappear. Help me fake my death.”

Nothing answered me at first.

The silence stretched unbearably long, sharp enough to cut. Then a harsh laugh broke through, bitter and unforgiving.

“Now?” my brother snapped. “You’re asking for my help now? After all this time? After you turned your back on us? After you chose him over your own family?” His anger crackled through the line. “You betrayed us. You betrayed Adrian. All for that man. And now you expect me to save you?”

My chest rose and fell erratically. “I know,” I sobbed. “I know I was wrong. I see it now—too late. But please, you have to hear this.” My words poured out in pieces, broken and desperate. “He’s the reason Adrian died. He killed him… just so he could have his heart.” My breath hitched painfully. “And our baby—he took that too. I was blind. I should’ve never loved anyone after Adrian. Never.”

My fingers cramped as I clenched the receiver harder. “Please,” I whispered. “Come get me. I’ll do anything you ask. I swear. Anything.”

The line went quiet again.

Then, at last, I heard him exhale. “So you finally woke up.” His voice was calmer now, but heavy. “Fine. I’ll come for you in five days. Fix everything on your end. After that, you’re done with him—completely. No turning back. Do you understand?”

My legs nearly gave out as relief collided painfully with dread. “Yes,” I breathed. “I understand. Yes.”

The phone slipped from my hand. My body trembled uncontrollably as the room tilted and darkened around me. I couldn’t stay upright anymore. Everything faded—and I passed out.

When I regained consciousness, I was pressed against Dominic’s chest.

His arms steadied me as he gently shook my shoulders. “Seraphina? Why are you out here?” His voice sounded worried, tender. “You’re not well yet. You shouldn’t be walking around. Come on—if you collapse again—”

That voice. The same one that once convinced me I was cherished.

He carried me back to my room and carefully laid me on the bed, his touch soft enough to almost feel sincere.

“Seraphina,” he murmured, brushing the damp strands of hair from my face. “I’m sorry. Truly. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should’ve been there when you woke up.” His apologies flowed smoothly. “Work overwhelmed me. The company needed my attention. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

The words sounded sweet—but they were hollow.

I turned my face away, burying my tears before they could betray me. Playing ignorant was all I had left. Lowering my eyes, I whispered weakly, “It’s okay, Dominic. I’m sorry too… for causing trouble. For making you worry.”

Inside, my heart screamed. I already knew the truth—his regret wasn’t meant for me. Helena’s name weighed heavier on his conscience than mine ever had. Still, I nodded obediently, pretending I was the same woman he thought he controlled. Because pretending hurt less than breaking apart in front of him.

He fed me warm soup, one careful spoonful at a time, his gaze heavy with practiced remorse.

Once, I would’ve believed him.

Now, I knew every apology was just a performance meant to keep me quiet.

Then the door flew open.

“Sir Dominic!” the butler cried. “Something’s wrong with Miss Helena again. She’s vomiting badly. The doctor says you need to come at once!”

The instant Helena’s name was spoken, Dominic stood up abruptly. In his haste, the bowl tipped from his hand. Scalding soup spilled across my arm.

I screamed as pain ripped through my skin.

He didn’t even turn around.

Didn’t hesitate.

And just like that—he was gone.

I cradled my burned arm, shaking with both agony and fury. Through blurred vision, I treated the wound myself, pressing cold compresses against my skin while silent tears streamed down my face.

That was it.

I was done.

The following morning, I signed my own discharge papers. Weak and sore, I dragged myself out of the hospital and went straight to the cemetery.

Adrian’s grave.

The moment I saw his name, my strength vanished. I collapsed before the stone, my fingers tracing each carved letter. “I’m sorry,” I whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked. “I loved the wrong man. I let myself be deceived. The man who carries your heart is the same one who destroyed you… and me.”

My tears soaked into the soil as though I could somehow bring him back. Exhausted by grief, I drifted into a haze—and felt warmth surround me.

In my dream, Adrian held me. His arms were solid, familiar. He pressed his lips to my hair and whispered softly, You’re not alone.

When I woke, my face was wet with tears. Yet the echo of his embrace lingered, steadying my heart.

I forced myself home, struggling to breathe properly, my chest tight with exhaustion. That was when I saw it.

A massive billboard loomed above the city, lights blazing against the night sky. The headline was impossible to miss:

“Second Chances Taste Sweeter: Dominic Blackwood to Marry Helena Moore.”

The photo mocked me—Dominic smiling brightly, Helena glowing beside him.

I stood frozen, my heart emptied of everything.

So that was why he never married me. Why every promise faded into nothing.

But I didn’t cry.

There were no tears left to give. Love had burned itself out.

Because in five days, I would be dead.

And when I was gone—every single one of them would finally feel the weight of what they’d done.