On the eve of my wedding, my mother stumbled upon my fiancé and my best friend wrapped in a betrayal so deep it shattered her heart.

The betrayal sent a shockwave through her fragile heart, triggering a relapse that left her fighting for her life. She needed an immediate transplant.

Fortunately, I had already undergone compatibility testing with her. Without hesitation, I gave her my heart, surviving on an artificial one.

Desperate to cover the overwhelming cost of the surgery, I turned to my fiancé for help.

He claimed he had no cash on hand, only to register his marriage with Rhea Dmitri the very next day.

In the depths of my despair, Theodore Dmitri appeared like a lifeline. He covered every expense and performed the surgery to save us both.

But when I woke, his expression was heavy with regret. His voice was soft, almost apologetic. “Your mother... she suffered an unexpected rejection during the operation. The transplant failed.”

She was gone. Forever.

With swollen, tear-streaked eyes, I crumbled into his arms. He held me close, whispering his devotion, swearing to care for me for a lifetime. I believed him.

Seven years into our marriage, fate twisted the knife once more. A conversation I was never meant to hear shattered everything.

“So you swapped Faye Claude’s heart for Rhea’s right in front of her mother? That’s brutal.”

“There was no other choice. Her heart was a perfect match for Rhea.”

“But they had already found a suitable donor. She only needed to wait half a day. Was it really that urgent?”

Theodore sighed, his voice laced with quiet longing. “I couldn’t bear to let Rhea suffer. Not even for a second.”

***

Inside the study, just beyond a single door, Theodore exhaled a slow ring of smoke, his tone unreadable.

“If society’s rules kept me from marrying her, then the least I could do was protect Rhea for a lifetime.”

Dominic Wallace hesitated, his expression clouded with unease.

“But Faye has a rare blood type. Finding a compatible heart for her is nearly impossible. She’s been suffering from constant coughing fits and unbearable chest pain. And she can’t even have children.”

“Her artificial heart has only a month left before it fails,” he pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. “She needs a real one now. Are you really going to make her endure endless surgeries and repeat this agony over and over? She loves you more than anything. Just give her heart back to her. You already have multiple backup donors lined up for Rhea.”

Theodore’s expression turned frigid in an instant. “No. The more backup donors I have, the safer Rhea will be. I won’t take that risk. Not for anyone.”

Dominic’s chest tightened as a wave of frustration surged through him.

“What about Faye? I can still see her mother’s face, the way she wept blood as she died, consumed by hatred. Aren’t you afraid Faye will come for you once she learns the truth?”

Theodore went silent, then let out a low, self-mocking chuckle.

“If she wants my life, she can take it. I planned to care for her for the rest of my life anyway. As long as Rhea is happy, I’ll die without regrets.”

My knuckles turned white as I clenched the doorknob, my entire body trembling, veins straining beneath my skin.

Heart pounding, I fumbled for my phone, recording everything before fleeing to my bedroom, my legs nearly giving out beneath me.

The moment I shut the door, I collapsed to the floor, my breath ragged, my mind in chaos.

My body had never fully adapted to the artificial heart. Weakness clung to me like a shadow, coughing fits, sharp stabs of pain in my chest and limbs that barely obeyed me.

Back then, Theodore had told me a heart transplant required a living donor. My mother had died, which meant there was no way to return what was stolen.

I had thought it didn’t matter so long as my heart could remain with my mother forever.

No wonder Theodore had stopped me when I begged to see her one last time, insisting I was too weak to get out of bed after surgery. He had taken charge of her funeral, handling everything himself.

So this so-called salvation, this supposed love, it was nothing but a sacrifice orchestrated by a devil.

He had never even performed surgery on my mother.

Both of us had been nothing more than offerings for the woman he truly loved.

And to keep me from ever suspecting the truth, he had pushed my mother into the operating room first, forcing her to watch, powerless, as her own daughter’s heart was torn from her chest and placed inside another.

She had died in despair, crying blood.

Even without a heart, an unbearable ache spread through my chest and a fresh burst of blood spilled from my lips.

"Faye?"

At some point, Theodore had appeared.

His expression darkened at the sight of me coughing up blood again.

Without hesitation, he scooped me into his arms and laid me on the bed, his fingers trembling as he wiped the crimson stain from the corner of my mouth.

"I'm sorry, Faye. I failed to take care of you." His voice was laced with guilt; his eyes reddened, just as they always were whenever he saw me in pain. "Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for the best artificial heart. In a few days, you’ll have a new one."

I used to believe those eyes held sorrow for me. I even forced myself to be strong, whispering reassurances that I was fine just to ease his burden.

Looking back now, I was such a fool.

"Theodore, I've endured so much pain all these years." My voice was weak, yet every word carried the weight of my torment. "Can I stop using the artificial heart?"

‘Didn’t you already prepare spare donor hearts for Rhea? Then… can I have my heart back?’

For a brief second, hesitation flickered in Theodore’s eyes, then, just as quickly, it vanished behind a gentle smile. He stroked my hair, his touch deceptively tender.

"Faye, don’t say foolish things. You don’t have a matching donor. Without an artificial heart, do you want me to watch you die? You might as well kill me first."

No donor?

But the heart beating inside Rhea’s chest was mine.

A chill crept through my veins, numbing me from the inside out. Still, I forced a smile.

"You’re right. I was being silly."

With a soft laugh, I turned away, masking the ice settling in my bones. Using the excuse of preparing his bath, I emptied an entire bottle of sleep-inducing essential oil into the steaming water.

When he returned, exhaustion dragged him under almost instantly.

Perhaps he was lost in a dream of the woman he longed for because even in sleep, his voice murmured her name.

"Rhea… I will protect you, even if it costs my life."

A man I had loved with every piece of my shattered soul for seven years, yet in his dreams, he only had room for her.

A bitter laugh caught in my throat before it dissolved into tears, spilling unchecked down my cheeks.

With trembling fingers, I dialed my best friend, a doctor who had just returned from volunteering in Africa.

"I need your help with a surgery."

The reply came quick, laced with concern. "Are you sure?"

I exhaled softly, my gaze locked on the man sleeping soundly in front of me.

"Yes. Three days from now."

What was there to fear about death?

A life worse than death was far more terrifying.

Setting down my phone, I quietly took Theodore’s and walked into the study.

As expected, the passcode was Rhea’s birthday.

I never knew he had a second WhatsApp account.

He must have forgotten to switch back because his profile picture was nothing but two intertwined letters: "Love Rhea."

Such an unabashed, shameless declaration of devotion.

I opened his Instagram. Every post was filled with pictures of Rhea, each caption dripping with concealed yet boastful affection.

[The first day I arrived at the family, I saw Rhea and finally understood what it meant to be moved.]

[Rhea got married. I'm going mad with jealousy. I want to stuff her into my body so she belongs to me alone.]

[Today, I took Faye three times. I know her body can't handle it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I miss Rhea too much, so I keep calling her name in my heart as if that would turn the woman beneath me into her…]

And that wasn’t all. Post after post displayed extravagant gifts. Jewelry and handbags, each one meant for Rhea.

Not a single one for me.

He had even bought a heart-shaped island overseas in her name.

And the only thing Theodore had ever given me… was an artificial heart that brought nothing but agony.

While I was drowning in grief over my mother’s death, choking on blood and writhing in relentless pain, Rhea had been basking under the golden sun, sinking her feet into the soft sands of a private island.

My fingers trembled violently as I gripped the phone, nausea twisting in my gut. I stumbled to the side, my stomach lurching and dry-heaved.

In my unsteady state, I accidentally knocked against a bookshelf. A dull thud echoed as something fell.

I reached down to pick it up, only to realize it wasn’t a book.

It was a disguised box.

Inside lay several "voluntary heart donation" agreements, each page whispering a silent, sinister truth. Stacks of remittance receipts sat neatly beside them.

The room tilted. My vision blurred.

So this was what my suffering had been worth.

Theodore had been sending large sums of money to the families of those donors every month, ensuring their support. The only condition? Their hearts belonged to him alone, reserved for Rhea whenever she needed one.

And at the very bottom of the stack, I found the last consent form.

Mine.

But the intended recipient had changed. It was no longer my mother. It was Rhea.

Back then, Theodore had handed me stacks of documents, claiming they were routine procedures. Desperate to get my mother into surgery, I had signed them all without hesitation.

This consent form must have been mixed in with the rest. My mother’s had probably been destroyed long ago.

Theodore, you truly spared no effort for Rhea.

I printed out the divorce agreement and sank onto the sofa, staring into the endless stretch of night, sleep a distant, unattainable thing.

By morning, Theodore simply assumed I had woken up early. He suspected nothing.

Perhaps because he had seen me coughing up blood again the night before, he made breakfast himself, a table filled with carefully arranged, nutritious dishes, each one an illusion of tenderness.

When Theodore saw me sitting quietly, he watched me with concern.

“Faye, why aren’t you eating? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Nothing, I just miss my mother.”

He sighed, his gaze softening.

“Faye, it’s not just you. I still think about Mom all the time. She was such a kind and gentle person. It’s my fault I couldn’t save her back then. I can still remember her holding my hand, telling us to be happy together.”

If only my mother had the strength to raise her hand back then. She would have used it to strangle him.

His feigned sincerity left nothing but contempt in its wake.

I was about to bring up the divorce, but Theodore casually continued.

“Faye, you’ve been feeling down lately. Today happens to be Rhea’s birthday and she’s just returned to the country. The family is having a gathering at the old residence. Why don’t we go? Maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

“I know you’ve never wanted to see her because of Mom, but that’s all in the past now. Rhea never meant for things to turn out that way… We’re all family, after all. She’s always been sensitive. If we don’t go, I’m afraid she’ll be upset.”

So, this was his true purpose today. All those words, just so he could see the one he truly loved.

I cut him off, my tone cold.

“Do as you like.”

Theodore smiled, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

“I knew my Faye was the most understanding.”

When we arrived at the old residence, I saw Rhea, dressed like a princess, clinging to my mother-in-law’s arm, acting coy and delighted.

My mother-in-law chuckled, indulging Rhea as she fed her neat slices of fruit.

She truly doted on Rhea, offering attention in every way possible.

The moment Rhea saw me, she smirked, turning to my mother-in-law with a voice as sweet as honey but dripping with mockery.

“Grandmother, you’ve fed me so much, I’m going to get fat. Now that Auntie’s here, why don’t you give the rest to her? After all, she doesn’t have a mother.”

My mother-in-law’s eyes shifted toward me, scanning me with disdain as she took in my plain outfit.

"Why are you here, you sickly thing? Are you trying to bring your misfortune and poverty into our home?"

"Our family has been in medicine for generations, yet you walk around looking like a beggar. You've embarrassed my son enough already. You've been married for years, haven't given him a child and you don’t even have a brain. Did your dead mother never teach you any manners?"

Theodore wasn’t Rhea’s biological father’s younger brother; he was a child brought into the family by his stepmother.

Afraid that her stepson wouldn't be valued, his stepmother had always pushed him to marry someone of equal status, someone who could support him.

When Rhea’s father died in a car accident, Theodore rose through his own merits to become the revered "Golden Scalpel," earning the respect of the family patriarch, who then entrusted the entire family business to him.

Only then did my mother-in-law grudgingly allow Theodore to marry me.