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His Wish, My Dying Heart Novel Cover

His Wish, My Dying Heart

I was dying from a terminal illness, but my husband, Broderick, thought it was just another one of my games to get his attention. He hated me, convinced I had betrayed him years ago for money. As I collapsed in agony, begging him to take me to the hospital, he grabbed my chin and whispered the words that shattered my world. "I will never forgive you. I hope you just… die." He then left me on the cold floor and rushed to the hospital to be with his true love, Kacey-my best friend. She was the one he worried about, the one whose own heart was failing. He never knew that the "betrayal" he despised was actually my sacrifice to save his family from ruin. He never knew the depth of my love, a love so absolute that even his cruelty couldn't extinguish it. So, when the doctors told me I was a perfect match, I made my final choice. I would grant his wish and give my heart to the woman he loved.
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Chapter 3

"You have to ask him for money, Celina!" My mother' s grip on my arm was fierce, her nails digging into my flesh. Her eyes, usually so calculating, were now wide with panic. "He owes it to us! Your father is dying!"

I flinched, pulling my arm away. My face was cold, my voice devoid of emotion. "He hates me, Mother. He won' t give us a dime."

Slap!

The sharp crack echoed in the sterile hospital corridor. My cheek stung, a burning sensation spreading across my face. My mother glared at me, her eyes blazing with fury. "Useless! You' re utterly useless!"

My lips trembled, but no sound escaped. A bitter cold seeped into my heart. I remembered another time, three years ago, when another man had threatened everything.

Flashback

Justin Neal. He had intercepted me, his face a mask of sinister charm. "I have proof," he'd purred, "of your mother's affair. A scandal that would destroy your family, and Broderick's reputation by association."

Then, the offer. "Leave Broderick. Publicly break off your engagement. In return, I will provide the funds to save his family's business. And yours."

I saw Broderick then, haggard and desperate, battling to keep his family afloat. His shoulders, usually so broad and confident, were slumped with the weight of responsibility. My heart ached to see him so broken.

If leaving him, if being misunderstood, meant saving him, then so be it. My love for him was absolute. I would take on any pain, any infamy, if it meant his survival.

I took Justin's money, saving both our families from ruin. Then, I found Broderick. I said hateful things, things that would cut him deep, pushing him away, making him believe I was the greedy, opportunistic woman he now thought I was. It had to be convincing.

I never thought I would see him again, not like that. Not as my husband.

End Flashback

But fate had other plans. The very next day, Broderick' s father sought me out. "Celina," he' d said, his eyes kind, "I understand the difficult position you were in. My son… he needs a wife. He needs you."

He was offering me a way back, a way to be close to Broderick, even if it was under false pretenses. Initially, I refused. My heart was broken, my pride in tatters.

Then, the next morning, my family received a substantial sum from Broderick's family. It was an arrangement, a transaction. My family, greedy and opportunistic, had sold me.

Broderick, forced into a marriage he didn' t want, had hated me ever since. He believed I had orchestrated the entire thing, using his father to trap him.

I walked out of my father' s hospital room, the familiar ache in my abdomen flaring up. I popped a painkiller, dry swallowing it, trying to ignore the bitter taste of my own life.

Then I saw her.

Standing just around the corner, her blonde hair catching the harsh hospital light, was Kacey Cotton. My best friend. And the woman Broderick loved.

Our eyes met. I quickly looked away, trying to escape, to avoid the inevitable confrontation. My heart hammered in my chest.

"Celina!" Her voice, sweet yet sharp, stopped me.

I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding together, but I kept walking. I couldn't face her right now.

"Oh, Celina," she cooed, catching up to me, her hand landing lightly on my arm. Her eyes, usually so kind, now held a glint of malicious triumph. "I heard your family is going bankrupt. How sad."

I stopped, turning slowly to face her. "Get lost, Kacey," I said, my voice cold, a stark contrast to my usual gentle tone.

A smirk played on her lips. "Broderick is with me," she whispered, leaning closer, her breath warm against my ear. "He' s been here all night, worried sick about my condition. We were talking about our future."

My heart twisted, a raw, excruciating pain. I knew this, of course. I had known for a long time. But hearing it from her, delivered with such cruel satisfaction, was a different kind of torture.

"Good," I said, forcing a smile. It felt like my face would crack. "Then you two can discuss the divorce as well. I' ll make it easy for him."

Kacey laughed, a brittle, mocking sound. "Oh, Celina. Don' t you see? He' s not going to divorce you. He' s going to keep you tied to him, just to make you miserable." Her eyes sparkled with a predatory glint. "It' s his revenge, darling. For everything you' ve put him through."

She leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Did you know… he' s never even touched you? He told me. He said you were… dirty."

A wave of nausea washed over me. My vision blurred. She was insinuating I had been with Justin, that I was tainted. The lie he believed.

"Get your grubby hands off me, Kacey!" I snarled, pushing her away with a sudden, unexpected surge of anger.

She stumbled back, losing her footing. Her eyes, wide with feigned shock, met mine just as she reached the ground. She landed hard, a muffled thud echoing in the deserted corridor.

Just then, Broderick burst through the double doors at the end of the hall, his eyes scanning the scene. He saw Kacey on the floor, her face pale, her lips trembling. And he saw me, standing over her, my hand still outstretched from the push.

His eyes, when they met mine, were colder than the Arctic ice. Pure, unadulterated hatred.

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