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My Dying Heart, His Cruel Vows Novel Cover

My Dying Heart, His Cruel Vows

My fifth wedding anniversary gift was a call from my husband's publicist. He told me to come down to the 5th Precinct because there was a "situation." With my billionaire husband, Elijah, there was always a situation. When I got there, I saw a young influencer accusing him of kidnapping. But the real shock wasn't the accusation. It was her face-she looked exactly like me, five years younger. Elijah arrived, but instead of being angry, he showered her with affection, calling her "Kiley" and gifting her a diamond necklace. He treated the kidnapping claim like a lover's quarrel. When his eyes finally met mine, the warmth vanished, replaced by ice. He looked at me like I was a piece of furniture. A cop muttered to his partner, "That's Mrs. Peters. The real one. Or, well, the first one." He hates me. He blames me for his sister's death five years ago, believing I ran away and left her to die. He doesn't know I collapsed while running for help. He doesn't know about my terminal heart condition. So he tortures me with my living replica, slowly killing the woman he vowed to love "till death do us part." The irony is, he doesn't have to try so hard. My doctor just told me I only have a few weeks left to live.
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Chapter 5

Jamie POV:

My eyes widened in disbelief. The world seemed to slow down, the sound fading to a dull buzz. "Elijah, no…" The words were a choked whisper.

He didn't even look at me. He just gave a curt nod to the bodyguards.

One of the men stepped forward. His face was impassive as he grabbed my chin, his grip like a vise. I tried to pull away, but I was as helpless as a doll in his massive hand.

He twisted.

A sickening crack echoed in the small bathroom, followed by a wave of white-hot, blinding pain that exploded behind my eyes. I felt my jawbone shift, dislocate. A scream tore at my throat but was trapped, unable to escape. My vision went black for a second, and I sagged against the wall, the agony so intense it was surreal.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Elijah turn away, his arm still wrapped around Kiley, leading her out of the room as if nothing had happened. He didn't spare me a single glance.

The next two days were a living hell. My jaw was a source of constant, throbbing agony. I couldn't speak. I couldn't eat. I could only sip water through a straw, each swallow sending a fresh spike of pain through my head.

And Elijah made sure I was present for every moment of his idyllic life with Kiley. I was forced to sit in the living room while they watched movies, her head on his lap. I was forced to sit at the dining table while he fed her, piece by piece, from his own plate.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation. I was a ghost at their feast, a silent monument to his cruelty.

Then, just as suddenly as it had been inflicted, the punishment ended. It was Kiley's birthday, and Elijah had plans. He had a doctor come to the house to reset my jaw. The procedure was excruciating, but the relief of being able to close my mouth properly was immense.

"You will plan Kiley's birthday party," Elijah told me that morning, his voice cold and clipped. "It will be perfect. If she is anything less than ecstatic, I will make you wish your jaw was still broken."

I nodded, a hollowed-out shell of a person. I spent the day directing caterers and florists, my movements robotic. The garden was transformed into a fairy-tale wonderland, twinkling with lights and filled with the scent of a thousand roses.

The party was a lavish affair. Elijah was the perfect host, the devoted lover. He gifted Kiley a diamond bracelet that cost more than my childhood home. He held her as they cut a towering cake. He led her in a slow dance under the stars, his eyes never leaving her face.

I stood in the shadows, a forgotten relic. The pain in my heart had become a dull, constant ache. It was too tired to break anymore. I watched them, and I remembered my own twenty-first birthday. Elijah and Corine had thrown me a surprise party in this very garden. He had held me just like that, whispering promises of forever in my ear.

"Forever," I murmured to the darkness. What a fragile, foolish word.

"Enjoying the show?"

I turned. Kiley stood there, a glass of champagne in her hand, a malicious smile playing on her lips. "I don't see a gift," she said, her eyes scanning me up and down. "Surely you brought something for the birthday girl."

I dropped my gaze. "I didn't prepare anything."

Her eyes narrowed, then lit up as they fixed on the thin silver chain around my neck. It was a simple locket, the last thing my mother gave me before she died. "I like that," she declared, pointing a perfectly manicured finger. "I'll take that as my present."

My hand flew to my neck, clutching the locket protectively. "No," I said, my voice shaking. I took a step back. "You can't. This was my mother's."

Kiley's face fell. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. "But… I just thought it was so pretty."

"What's going on?" Elijah's voice cut in. He was by her side in an instant, his brow furrowed with concern as he saw her feigned distress.

"It's nothing," Kiley sniffled, leaning into him. "I just told Jamie I liked her necklace, and she got so angry. I didn't mean to upset her."

Elijah's gaze turned to me, and it was glacial. "Give it to her."

I stared at him, horrified. "Elijah, you can't," I choked out. "You know what this is. It was my mother's." He had been with me when she gave it to me. He had held me as I cried after her funeral. He knew.

My silent plea hung in the air between us. Please, not this. Don't take this from me, too.

He looked away, his jaw tight. "Get it for her," he ordered the bodyguards.

Panic clawed at me. "No! Elijah, please!" I struggled as two men grabbed my arms, their grips like iron. One of them reached for my neck. I thrashed wildly, screaming his name, begging him.

The chain snapped.

The guard handed the locket to Elijah. He didn't look at it. He simply turned and, with a tender smile, fastened it around Kiley's neck.

"It looks beautiful on you," he murmured, kissing her forehead. He took her hand and led her back to the center of the party, leaving me on my knees, my world shattered.

My mother. The last piece of her was gone.

I stumbled away from the party, seeking refuge in the darkest corner of the garden. A group of Kiley's friends, drunk and emboldened, followed me.

"Look at the sad little wretch," one of them sneered.

"Think you can compete with Kiley? You're just a washed-up hag."

They surrounded me, their taunts turning to shoves, then to kicks. I curled into a ball on the ground, not even trying to fight back. What was the point?

A sharp kick to my stomach sent a jolt of agony through me, and I gasped, a hot, metallic taste filling my mouth. I coughed, and a spray of dark blood spattered on the pristine grass.

The girls shrieked and jumped back, their drunken cruelty dissolving into fear.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Elijah's voice was a low growl. He stood at the edge of the circle of light, his face a thunderous mask.

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