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Before Her Heart Was Taken Novel Cover

Before Her Heart Was Taken

After a decade of devotion, Tiffany meets a gruesome end as her soul witnesses her own heart being harvested for the woman who sold her into human trafficking. While her organs are rushed to Velmont City, her billionaire lover Hector remains indifferent to her disappearance, even wishing death upon her. As he celebrates the successful surgery of another woman, Tiffany is forced to face the chilling reality of his betrayal in this dark tale of mafia cruelty and lost love.
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Chapter 4

Tiffany went to a private college in Westvale—one the Coxons basically owned. Everyone knew Hector was her "brother."

The advisor scanned her screen. "This program's in Zafaria. It's tough. You won't be back in Dalvona till it's over. You sure?"

Tiffany nodded. "Training's in Southport next week, right? I'm good."

The advisor paused. Tiffany wasn't just any student.

"You tell your brother? Your dad? This is kinda last minute. Maybe I should loop them in—"

"No need!" she cut in fast. "They already know. Super supportive. Said it'd be a great opportunity. All good."

"Alright then, you're in."

Tiffany finally exhaled.

The Coxons ran everything—politics, business, the whole deal.

Back when Benjamin was head-over-heels for Rosalind, there were talks of making Tiffany part of the family for real. But thanks to his messy ties with Veronica—and Hector losing his mind over it—the divorce never happened.

Officially, Benjamin called her his foster kid.

As for Rosalind? After she betrayed him, he claimed she left Dalvona for treatment.

When Charlotte came back, Tiffany was supposed to be kicked out. But then Veronica collapsed and never woke up.

Hector snapped. Took it out on Tiffany.

And in the end, he got her killed.

Not this time.

***

By the time Tiffany got back to Hector's mansion, it was already dark.

He was on the couch, gently fussing over Charlotte's bruised arm. When he saw Tiffany, he barely looked up.

"Charlotte can barely walk, and look at you—prancing around like it's no big deal."

His voice oozed blame.

Tiffany didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry. It was my fault."

She kicked off her shoes and headed upstairs.

"Stop."

She turned, deadpan. "What now?"

"What kind of attitude is that?" His face darkened. "Charlotte heard you discharged yourself and came here worried sick. And you act like this? Apologize. Now."

Tiffany felt drained.

She wanted to ask—what did she even do wrong? Why was it always on her to say sorry? To Charlotte. To him. To everyone.

But she stayed quiet.

She was leaving soon anyway. No point arguing with someone she was already cutting out of her life.

So she forced a smile.

"Alright, Hector. I'm sorry, Ms. Pusey. Didn't mean to keep you waiting. Your wedding's next week, right? Wishing you both a long, blissful life. Chained together forever. Happy now?"

Charlotte stiffened. "Tiffany, we're gonna be family. If you've got a problem with me, just say it. No need for the snide remarks."

Tiffany said nothing. Just kept that same fake smile, waiting for Hector to let her go.

But he didn't.

And just when she started to wonder if playing nice wasn't enough, Hector stood up and walked over.

"Hector?"

"When will you ever learn?" He tilted her chin up, leaned in close, and whispered in her good ear, "All I did was bring Charlotte home. Is that really enough to make you this jealous?"

Tiffany stayed silent.