Emmett Loses Alanna's Heart

The key clicked in the lock, and I pushed open the door to what used to be home. My fingers trembled against the polished wood, leaving faint smudges that looked like tears. Six months of hell had changed everything—including me. I stepped inside, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The familiar scent of lemon polish and Oliver's cologne hung in the air, untouched by the stench of sweat and fear that had permeated my existence for half a year. "Oliver?" My voice sounded foreign to my ears, thin and reedy. "I'm home." No answer came. The house stood empty, or so I thought. I set down my small bag—all I had left after the police had rescued me from that warehouse where men had treated me like merchandise, where they'd carved their marks into my skin and soul. My hand instinctively rose to touch the jagged scar running along my collarbone.

My daughter and the son of my husband's first love were in a terrible car accident. As the attending physician, my husband immediately decided to allocate the rare AB negative blood to Jireh. I swallowed my pride and, in front of everyone, knelt to beg him. His response was cold and calculated: "Marianna's condition is stable compared to Jireh's critical state. I have to prioritize the most severe case." At that moment, a few mysterious lines of text appeared before me: [The blood in storage could have saved both, but the male lead was so worried it wouldn’t be enough that he used it all on someone else’s child.] [After the daughter dies, the female lead soon ends her own life. Hang in there, everyone; there will be a time when this jerk will regret everything.] Seeing my daughter in grave danger, I ignored the nurse's protests and burst into the operating room. Trading two lives for genuine remorse was an ending I refused to accept. Logan looked shocked when I barged in, sweat beginning to gather on his brow. Without hesitation, he hurried over and slapped me hard across the face. “You’re being reckless!

The quiet of Sunday morning wrapped around me like a familiar blanket as I scrolled through my phone, sipping coffee from my favorite mug—the one Jonathan had given me for our third anniversary. Outside, rain pattered against the windows of our apartment, creating a gentle rhythm that normally would have soothed me. But today, my heart wasn't finding peace in the rain's melody. I hadn't meant to check Jonathan's tagged photos. It had become a habit born from loneliness, this digital window into the parts of my husband's life I wasn't allowed to share. My thumb paused mid-scroll as a splash of color caught my eye—the unmistakable vibrant hues of Wonder World amusement park. Time seemed to slow as I stared at the image. Jonathan, my husband of seven years, stood with cotton candy in hand, his head thrown back in laughter beside Elodie Mason, his assistant. Her perfectly manicured fingers rested on his arm with casual intimacy. The timestamp showed last weekend—when he'd told me he couldn't possibly step away from urgent client presentations.

BLURB Mara Bennett's life has never been easy. Rejected by her parents, burdened by debt, and desperate to save her dying father, she makes a choice that changes everything. One drugged night, a wrong turn, and a stranger's car-that's how she ends up in the arms of Alexander Blackwood, the cold, arrogant billionaire doctor with ice in his veins and fire in his touch. What was supposed to be a single night of chaos turns into something far more permanent when Mara discovers she's pregnant. Determined to raise her child alone, she hides her secret until fate brings her back into Alexander's world as his new intern. He doesn't recognize her... or pretends not to. She vows to stay invisible... But the chemistry refuses to die. When truth collides with passion, and lies spiral out of control, Alexander learns the woman he thought was a gold digger carries more than just his child; she carries the key to his past. Because in a cruel twist of fate, the woman he can't stop loving... might just be the sister he never knew he had.

For four years, I believed my fiancé, Damari, was fighting for us. I watched him endure his grandfather' s cruel punishments-exile, financial ruin, public humiliation-all because the old man supposedly refused to approve our marriage. I waited, believing his sacrifice was the ultimate proof of his love. Then I found the real document hidden in his office. It wasn't a rejection. It was an approval, stamped and dated, with a tiny, forged "not" scrawled in different ink. The entire four-year struggle was a lie. When I confronted him, he crumbled. He did it for his obsessive assistant, Cydney. "She can't live without me, Augusta," he pleaded. "She needs me." My world collapsed. His devotion wasn't for me; it was a performance to appease another woman. All his "sacrifices" were just a cruel way to keep me waiting while he played the hero for someone else. So when he abandoned me one last time to run to Cydney's side, I made my choice. I packed my bags, left New York, and started a new life, determined to never be anyone's second choice again.

After five years of IVF and seven months of pregnancy, Lucy went into premature labor. She was hemorrhaging, her life hanging by a thread. The husband who had always professed to love her to the bone was nowhere to be found. Neither was the college girl he had kept on standby as her emergency blood donor. She wanted to scream his name, to demand an answer, but another contraction seized her—a tearing agony that threatened to split her body apart. "Ryan... Where's Ryan?" Watching her sister's face blanch with pain, Amy wept as she dialled her brother-in-law’s number thirty-two times. Each call was met only by the desperate, endless tone of a busy signal. "The mother has a rare blood type! We're running out!" "Her blood pressure's still dropping!" "Didn't Mr. Ryan arrange a backup donor? Where is she?!" Faced with the doctor's furious shouts, Amy trembled, tears streaming down her face. "My brother-in-law's phone... it's switched off." Before she could say more, another violent contraction twisted Lucy's abdomen. Before her consciousness faded, Lucy cast one last glance toward the operating room door. Ryan still hadn't come. She didn't know how much time had passed when she finally woke in the hospital bed. Her hand moved to her flat, empty stomach, and a wave of crushing dread and grief washed over her. "The baby..." Struggling to sit up, she searched for her child, but saw only her red-eyed sister. "Lucy... I thought you'd never wake up..." "The baby... where's my baby?!" Her voice was a frail thread as she clutched Amy's sleeve, tears brimming. "The doctors said they couldn't save her... It was too dangerous. If they hadn't performed the C-section, you wouldn't have made it..." "Where's Ryan?" Amy's expression darkened. "I've been here for three days and nights. He hasn't come." Her sister's words made Lucy's world spin. The heartache hit like a physical blow, threatening to drag her back into the darkness. Her precious baby, nurtured for seven months and filled with so many hopes and dreams, had never even opened her eyes to see this world. This was the child Ryan had longed for day and night. Yet now, as the father, he hadn't bothered to see them even once. Gasping for air, Lucy dialled Ryan's number again. This time, his assistant answered. "Where is Ryan?" Faced with her demand, the assistant hesitated. "Mr. Ryan... is busy." The man's evasive tone sent a chill straight through Lucy's heart. "Tell Ryan to come to the hospital. Now." Wiping her tears, she hung up with a sharp click. With Amy's support, Lucy finally went to the morgue to see that tiny, cold form. Her baby, the one she couldn't protect. A little girl. Lucy bent, breathing warm air onto the child's icy little hand. "Sweetheart, Mommy's taking you home." Cradling her daughter, Lucy walked with purpose to a specific address—the apartment where Ryan kept the college girl, Ruth. She wanted Ryan to see their child one last time. But as she reached the door, she saw him through the gap, soothing a sobbing girl in his arms, his voice gentle as water. "Shh, it's alright. Don't cry." "If you're scared, we won't go. Okay?" Tears streaked Ruth's face, her eyes red-rimmed. "I wanted to go... I was just too afraid..." "Be good, Ruth. Don't be scared. We just won't go." Lucy stood outside the door. It felt like a thousand blades were being driven into her heart, the pain so sharp she could barely breathe. While she had been balanced between life and death, the man she loved was here, comforting another, younger girl. The Ryan who had once risked his life for her had finally changed. He had, after all, risked his life for her three times. At eighteen, he had shielded her in earthquake rubble for three days and nights, giving her the chance to be rescued first while he nearly died. At twenty-one, he had charged alone into a kidnapper's den for her, taking three bullets. The last one had missed his heart by a single millimetre; he'd fought for his life in the hospital for seven days and nights. At twenty-five, when everyone opposed their marriage, Ryan had willingly endured his family's punishment—five broken ribs—just to force them all to accept Lucy. After their wedding, Lucy had basked in that hard-won happiness. So when Ryan said he wanted a child, despite her extreme difficulty conceiving, she pushed her body to its limits. Countless rounds of IVF later, she finally became pregnant. Once she was pregnant, he became even more devoted. Not only that, Ryan had found a college girl with Lucy's rare blood type and installed her in an apartment, a ready supply of emergency blood for when Lucy gave birth. Lucy had questioned it once, but his smile had dispelled her doubts. "Even with a baby on the way, you're still my little jealous one?" "Don't overthink it. She's just insurance, for your safety. I want you and our baby to come through this safely." Lucy had believed him. And so her child had died. Lucy