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Drowning in His Heartbeat Novel Cover

Drowning in His Heartbeat

On her sixty-sixth attempt to get a marriage license with Brandon—the Capital Circle’s so-called ‘Monk’—Jennifer finally landed herself on the Civil Registry’s blacklist. Even Oliver, the security guard at the door, knew she’d been stood up. Again. One marriage certificate. Six years. Still nothing. The first time, Brandon had left her waiting for Stephanie’s lost cat. The second, Stephanie’s parents were visiting the capital, and he’d insisted on playing host. … The sixty-sixth time, Stephanie won the Best Newcomer Award. A once-in-a-lifetime moment, he’d said. “Miss,” the clerk Jerry remarked, not unkindly, “you’re about to wear out the Registry’s welcome mat. You’ve drawn that same lot sixty-six times. A little advice? Try picking a different name.” She tore the lottery slip in her hand and gave him a bitter nod. Then her phone rang. “Ms. Jennifer,” a voice began, “Mr. Brandon isn’t the man you’re looking for.” Instantly, the tendons stood out on the back of her hand. The numb smile she’d worn moments before vanished without a trace. “We checked that batch of heart transplant recipients. There were two—both surnamed Gabriel. The registrar mixed them up…” A long silence passed before she heard herself reply, “Okay. I see.” “Would you… still like the other Mr. Gabriel’s contact information?” The man on the phone—Zachary—sounded apologetic, treading carefully. “Yes. Please send it to me. Thank you.” Only after hanging up did the emotion she’d been suppressing finally break through, coiling around her chest like strangling vines, stealing her breath. She looked down at the shredded lottery slip in her palm and let out a wry, painful laugh. One mistake. It had cost her six whole years. No wonder Brandon had been so indifferent. No wonder he’d hurt her so freely. He simply… wasn’t him. Jennifer stumbled home in a daze, her face pale. Brandon seemed to have just returned. The tuxedo he’d worn to the red carpet event hung quietly on the valet stand, the air around it still faintly scented with Stephanie’s signature perfume. How did she know? Because during one of their many failed attempts to get the license, Stephanie had called, sobbing over her shattered favorite perfume bottle… So Brandon had left her—again—and flown to London that same day to buy a limited edition bottle from the designer himself. A practiced, hollow smile touched her lips. She picked up his clothes and hung them in the walk-in closet. His voice, never particularly warm, came from behind her. “We’ll go get the license tomorrow. It’s just across the street. A short walk.” Jennifer froze. The carefully buried ache surged back at his words. It was close. Just across the street… But tomorrow had always turned into another tomorrow. Over two thousand days and nights, and she still hadn’t gotten that piece of paper. Fortunately, the target was wrong. She didn’t have to wait anymore. She sniffed, her reply dismissive. “Don’t bother. There’s no point now.” Backlit by the window, Brandon’s expression darkened. The usual calm in his eyes turned cold, sharp even in the dim light. His words came out frost-laced. “What’s that supposed to mean? I just attended Stephanie’s award ceremony, and now you’re throwing a tantrum? How many times do I have to tell you? She’s my late friend’s little sister. I’m just looking out for her.”
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Chapter 4

“What do you mean?” He was stunned, more than he’d ever been.

“Just what I said. You mentioned calling off the engagement—I agree.”

Her voice was deliberately calm as she stood, then tipped the glass of lukewarm water directly over Stephanie’s head.

A cold laugh escaped her. “Sixty-six heartbreaks, Stephanie. Consider us even.”

Jennifer’s move caught them both completely off guard.

Only when her hair was soaked and dripping did Stephanie snap back to reality with a sharp shriek. “Ah—!”

Brandon’s heart twisted. He yanked Stephanie into his arms and shoved Jennifer away with a violent backhand.

The restaurant erupted instantly—plates and bowls crashing to the floor, every head turning toward the commotion.

Thrown off-balance, Jennifer slammed into the dining table and collapsed, overturning the pot of simmering broth. Scalding liquid splashed across her body, strewing bits of vegetable even in her bangs.

Where the table’s edge struck her lower back, pain lanced deep, like a steel spike driven straight through.

Dazed, she stared blankly at Brandon. He had never laid a hand on her before.

But his attention was fixed entirely on Stephanie, his voice softening into a gentle murmur that still reached her ears. “Stephanie, are you all right?”

The tight furrow in his brow eased only after she whispered, “I’m fine.”

Then he turned. His gaze was a blade of ice, sharp enough to carve right through her, as if he wanted to tear her apart on the spot.

“Jennifer, you really are pathetic.”

She ignored him. Using her hands and knees, she pushed herself slowly up from the wreckage on the floor.

Under the dining room’s mixed stares—some mocking, some pitying—she forced a strained smile onto her face.

A smile that held back tears, tinged with a sorrow so palpable that even someone as hardened as Brandon seemed to waver, his expression growing complicated. He opened his mouth, but Stephanie in his arms let out a delicate whimper. “Brandon, I feel dizzy…”

He didn’t hesitate. Turning, he rushed out of the restaurant with her in his arms.

Amid scattered whispers and judgmental buzz, the manager, Alan, gave her wounds a quick basic treatment. Only then did Jennifer limp out the door.

Not until she was seated in the back of the taxi did she seem to come back to herself, her gaze falling to the raw, bloody scrapes on her arms and legs.

“Miss, where’s your boyfriend? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

Jennifer’s lips twitched into a bitter smile. “No, thank you.”

Boyfriend?

The last one died saving me—turned to a handful of ashes.

This one just stabbed me in the back for someone else.

Without love, the living can’t even compare to the dead.

Back home, she took out the burn ointment and began applying it slowly to the reddened skin along her neck.

Suddenly, a gentle, familiar voice seemed to echo in her ears. “Why are you always so careless, getting yourself hurt again? Does it hurt?”

The tears she’d held back the entire ride broke like a dam, flooding down her cheeks until her face was wet.

Her voice trembled. “Gerald, you’re not here… No one wants to protect me anymore.”

“The wounds don’t hurt. But the world without you is so cold… Please, don’t leave me alone.”

Her vision blurred, and for a moment she could almost see his face again—the face that had stayed gentle right until the end.

A face that held nothing but her.

If not for that car accident, Gerald would still be here by her side, her knight protecting her.

Maybe they would have already gone from campus sweethearts to a married couple, certificate and all.

But all that beauty shattered with the screech of brakes.

He’d pushed her out from under the tires, taking her place beneath the wheels. Crimson blood spread in a wide, dark pool.

In her arms, he grew cold, still. Later, he became a handful of ashes.

Following his final wish, Jennifer signed the organ donor forms. Six months later, she found her way to Brandon.

Tears fell in heavy drops, soaking her collar and stinging the ointment-smeared burns.

“Gerald, it’s my fault. I trusted the wrong person. No wonder I could never melt that icy heart of his…”

She wiped her tears, voice thick.

“It’s a good thing I’m done waiting. I’ll come find you soon.”

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