I fixed my gaze on the outdoor banquet ahead. Brandon, in a tailored suit, was right next to Tara. The two held each other close.

The way they gazed at each other betrayed their undeniable affection for one another. Tears rolled down my face. I closed my eyes. Grabbing the paramedic's wrist, I croaked, "Save… me!"

The next second, a commotion broke out at the banquet, resulting in the road ahead getting blocked. The ambulance couldn't move.

Blood gushed from me like water from a broken dam.

The paramedic rushed out of the vehicle, shouting at the crowd, "Someone's dying! Please clear the way!"

Alas, the air was filled with jubilant cries. "Happy fifth wedding anniversary to Tara and Brandon!"

Every word hit me like lightning from above.

No wonder she never celebrated our wedding anniversary. That day was reserved for Brandon.

It was funny how I'd been kept in the dark for five years, as I'd fallen for her claim of wanting to keep a low profile again and again.

It wasn't that she didn't want to celebrate it. It was that I didn't deserve to be celebrated.

With my eyelids drooping and my breathing growing faint, the paramedic started crying out of desperation.

Seeing how bloody I was and how close I was to death, she borrowed an electric scooter from a kind stranger and rushed me out of the ambulance.

We were so close to the venue that I even heard Brandon ask, "Babe, what's that thing on the scooter? It's gross…"

"That's just a dead hunk of garbage. Don't look at it. It'll taint your eyes." Tara spoke gently, in the same tone she had used to propose to me years ago.

Back then, she had said, "Eric, I love you to death. Marry me! I'll take care of you for the rest of your life!"

Only now did it dawn on me that Tara's so-called care was just a way to kill me all along.

By the time we reached the hospital, I was bleeding out, and my breathing nearly stopped. The doctors rushed straight into the operating room, carrying O-negative blood packs.

"How much more blood do we need?"

"1,600 mL. There's just enough in the hospital blood bank!" a nurse answered, wiping sweat from her brow.

The next second, the operating room doors were slammed open. A group of men in black stormed in, guns pressed against the doctors' heads.

Tara stepped in, her brows deeply furrowed. Looking flustered, she barked, "Send all O-negative blood to the operating room across the hall! No one takes my husband's blood!"

I tried to reach for her sleeve with my bloody hand, to tell her that her husband was right here. But clearly, the husband she meant wasn't me. It was Brandon.

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances. One of the nurses said, "That man just has a small cut on his pinky. Blood transfusion isn't needed…"

Ignoring every word, the cold-faced Tara threatened them with her gun.

Holding back the pain and bitterness in my heart, I managed to cry out, "I am—"

She slapped me across the face, knocking me down in the process. Her eyes were dark and cruel as she snapped, "Shut up! Keep talking, and I'll make you my husband's living blood pack!"

After hitting me, she glanced at her blood-stained hand in disdain. With a cold snort, she grabbed the blood packs and walked out.

Holding my face, I lay there in a daze, feeling like my whole body had already been torn apart.

Three years ago, she spent three million dollars to buy a single pack of blood for me at the hospital.

Now, she was also the one taking away all the blood needed to save my life with a gun in her hand.

She was the same person, and the situation was the same. Only now, she was protecting Brandon instead of me.

Although the doctors were scared stiff, they couldn't just stand by and watch me die.

At that moment, a nurse dragged in a volunteer. Panting heavily, she blurted out between pauses, "I found one… This person is O-negative…"

The doctors collectively let out a breath of relief before scrambling to draw the blood and start transfusions.

As new blood flowed into my body, my deathly pale face slowly began to regain some color.

Just as the doctors were about to clean my wounds, the door was slammed open again.

Tara gave me a cold, icy glance, as if she were looking at a corpse. "I want this man's liver. My husband's liver is bad. This is a good opportunity to replace it."

My gaze was unfocused as I looked at her, my lips trembling uncontrollably. I felt like a complete joke.

Summoning all the strength I had left, I shakily pointed at the door and forced out, "Get out!"

Glaring at me with disgust, she kicked the operating table, sending both the table and me crashing straight into a wall.

As I hit the floor, I coughed up a mouthful of blood. She didn't even look at me when she viciously spat, "You piece of trash! You ought to be grateful my husband even wants your liver!"

The doctors clutched their heads out of fear and were too scared to speak.

"What are all of you waiting for? If anything happens to my husband, none of you will live!"

Tara glanced at the operating room across the hall, panic written all over her face.

One doctor, feeling bad upon seeing me lying in a pool of blood, mustered his courage to say, "Mr. Eri—"

"Shut your mouth! Take his liver now! One more word and I'll send your whole family to the grave!"

With rage burning in her eyes, Tara pointed her black gun squarely at the doctor's forehead.

Even though the doctors knew that forcibly removing a person's liver would almost certainly mean death, no one dared say anything for fear of losing their lives.

The operating room doors gradually closed. Through the intercom, Tara's placating words to Brandon reached my ears. "Don't worry, honey. A liver fresh from a living person should be in great shape. It'll definitely fix your liver problem. I'll be there soon. Wait for me. Love you…"

Every word was like a hammer to my heart, and all the memories of our past love were reduced to ashes.

I watched her leave, feeling like my heart was being stabbed again and again with a bloodied blade.

For her to risk her husband's life to treat her lover, Tara really took devotion to a whole other level. The anesthesia took effect quickly, and I soon slipped into unconsciousness.

While unconscious, I could have sworn I heard the promise she made at our wedding. "Honey, I could even give my life for you…"

Tears slid down my cheeks. I wanted to grab her, to demand answers, but everything before me was a blood-red blur, rendering me blind.

When my liver was removed, I weakly opened my eyes.

The doctor, taking pity on me, held my bloody liver in front of me. "Don't worry, Mr. Robles. We're replacing it with an artificial liver. It will be able to sustain you for a while…"

When I saw the gaping hole in my abdomen, my whole body ached as if my organs were being wrung out. I instinctively tried to reach out and touch it, but I couldn't lift my broken arms.

I'd imagined growing old with Tara countless times. We'd have ten children, half of them taking after her, the other half after me.

But not once had I imagined her hurting me like this. I never thought she would have my liver extracted just so that her lover could be saved.

I watched helplessly as my liver was packed and taken away. All that came out of my mouth was choked sobs.

The surgeon nearby was about to stitch my wound when another doctor rushed over to stop him. "Don't stitch him up yet. This man might need another surgery again…"

The other doctors widened their eyes in shock. "If he gets another cut, he'll die!"

From the corridor came a cold voice. "It's an honor for him to die for my husband. Do it! Besides, if you hadn't delayed things and affected the surgery, would my husband have had a sudden episode of heart palpitations? No more nonsense. Take his heart now!"

The attending doctor said quietly, "Ms. Brewer, there's no heart available in the hospital right now. Removing his heart means—"

Before he could finish, Tara cut him off impatiently. "If there's no heart, then just use an artificial one. I'll pay for it. If he doesn't survive, it just means he's unlucky."

At the sight of my blood-and-tear-streaked face, she pinched her nose and backed away in disgust.

A kind nurse beside me gently brushed my sweat-soaked hair behind my ear, revealing one side of my face.

Tara happened to turn away to answer her phone right then. "Hey, honey. I'm preparing a heart for you right now. Just hang tight."

When Nicholas Archer, her assistant who was behind her, saw my face, his eyes widened.

Turning to Tara, he stammered out, "M-Ms. Brewer, that is…"

His throat seemed to close up as he pointed at me, words failing him.

Hanging up, Tara snapped, "Shut it! Watch things here. I'm going to go get my husband!"

Nicholas gave me one last glance, trembling, too afraid to speak.

As I heard her footsteps fade away down the corridor, the tears in my eyes dried out completely.

The doctors fitted me with an artificial heart at the same time my heart was transplanted into Brandon's body. Both of Tara's husbands were only a few feet apart.

With blood everywhere on my hands and body, I forced myself to watch Tara as she fussed over Brandon.

"Honey, this heart is a match for you, so you'll be fine. And I have good news. I'm pregnant. Based on the timing, it should be yours."

Brandon nodded along, but his eyes drifted toward me as he barely hid a smug grin.

He had every reason to smile. Because of him, my marriage and my life had both been ruined at Tara's hands. My marriage was dead, and my life was barely intact.

Even the child I had once looked forward to, she had conceived with her lover.

I struggled to breathe, my fists clenched tightly.

I really wanted to know what expression Tara would make when she learned the truth. Would she still be able to keep that tender, loving look? Just imagining it made a laugh slip out of me.

Tara's expression darkened instantly, her eyes full of malice.

Just as she was about to cuss me out, her butler, Matthew Stroll, stumbled in, his face pale with panic. "Ms. Brewer, Mr. Robles is gone!"

Tara froze briefly, then immediately shoved Brandon's hand away and jumped to her feet.

Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly. "Where's Eric?"

Matthew wiped sweat from his forehead. "This morning, he said he was taking your seal to you, but he never came back…"

At that moment, a thought crossed Tara's mind, and she started to tremble slightly all over.

A few seconds later, she forced her voice to sound calm before saying, "Find him. Find him immediately!"

Just as Matthew turned to leave, he spotted me on the operating table and screamed, "Sir!"

Tara knitted her brows. "Who are you talking to? I want you to find Eric, not Brandon!"

With a trembling finger, he pointed behind her, whispering, "Ms. Brewer, that is Mr. Robles…"