His Wish, My Dying Heart

My phone vibrated, a harsh interruption to the suffocating silence. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my hand shaking as I answered. It was my mother.

"Did you get the money from him?" Her voice was shrill, laced with panic.

"No," I said, my voice flat. "I won' t ask him for money."

"Then ask Justin!" she shrieked, her desperation palpable. "Are you just going to sit there and watch your father die?"

My grip tightened on the phone. My eyes, cold and empty, narrowed. "And what about you, Mother?" I asked, my voice dangerously low. "Do you care so much about Father' s life? Or just about keeping your affair with… Gerald a secret?"

A choked gasp on the other end. Then, a click. She had hung up.

The specialist urged me to stay in the hospital, but I refused. I wanted to be home, in my own bed. He prescribed stronger painkillers, and I promised to take them. A lie, of course. I just wanted to leave.

As I arrived home, Broderick' s car screeched out of the driveway, tires spitting gravel. He was driving fast, a blur of expensive metal and furious urgency. I rarely saw him this agitated. A strange unease settled in my stomach.

I started to call out, to ask what was wrong, but the car was already a distant speck. He didn' t even glance my way.

"The other lady, Miss Kacey, she had an emergency," the housekeeper explained, her voice hushed. "A severe heart condition, they said. She was rushed to the hospital."

My heart sank, a heavy, dull ache. I knew. I always knew.

I made my way to the hospital where my father was admitted. As I walked down the sterile corridor, I saw Broderick pacing outside a room, his jacket askew, his tie loosened. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lips a thin, tight line. He looked utterly distraught.

My heart twisted with a familiar pain. He loved her so deeply. He must be suffering terribly.

I remembered a time when he had looked at me with that same intensity, that same desperate concern. We had been so happy once, before the misunderstandings, before the lies. I had truly believed our love was unbreakable. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, I was dying. And he was grieving for another woman.

A thought, cold and clear, solidified in my mind. If I was going to die anyway, if I was going to disappear from his life forever, I could at least do one last thing for him. I could make his path to happiness a little smoother. I could ease his pain, even if he would never know it was me.

I hoped my death would erase his hatred, leaving only a faint, forgettable memory. And in my next life, I wished for a path that wouldn't cross his again.

The doctors were telling Broderick that a suitable heart donor was almost impossible to find, and Kacey didn' t have much time.

That' s when I filled out the organ donation forms.

"I want to donate my heart," I told the coordinator, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil inside. "After… after I' m gone."

They tested me. A perfect match for Kacey.

I walked out of the hospital, the crisp evening air biting at my exposed skin. I pulled the bottle of painkillers from my purse and, with a final, resolute act, tossed them into a nearby trash can. There was no point now.

"Celina!"

My body stiffened, a cold dread creeping up my spine. A hand clamped down on my shoulder, firm and possessive. Justin Neal.

His fingers, surprisingly gentle, traced the small scar on his index finger-a phantom reminder of a time long ago, when I had bitten him in a desperate struggle to get away. He had been obsessed with me then, and that obsession had never truly faded. He had come to me, years ago, when Broderick's family was on the brink of ruin. He wanted me, had always wanted me, and saw Broderick as a rival.

"Leave him," Justin had demanded, his voice a low growl. "Be with me, and I will save his family from ruin."

I remembered Broderick, proud and defiant, brought to his knees by the cruel twists of fate. His family, once so powerful, was facing utter destruction. Justin's family, on the other hand, was untouchable, capable of crushing anyone who stood in their way. I had no choice but to accept Justin's offer. My sacrifice was the only way to save Broderick.

Justin's laugh was chilling, devoid of warmth. "Still thinking of him, are you?" He ran a finger down my cheek, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity. "Look what he did to me." He gestured to the ugly scar that ran down the side of his neck, a jagged line from ear to collarbone. "Tell me, Celina. How should I make him pay?"

I felt a familiar sense of dread. Justin Neal was a man who always got what he wanted, by any means necessary.