My Husband Gave Our Daughter’s Heart to His Mistress

The man in the middle reached for my coat.

A sharp, heavy crack echoed through the garage.

It wasn't a gunshot. It was bone breaking.

The man screamed, his hand instantly bending backward at a sickening angle. Before he could fall, a black blur slammed into him. A dark leather boot struck his chest, sending him flying into the side of a concrete pillar. He hit the stone and crumpled, completely limp.

I pulled my knees to my chest.

Veer stood under the flickering fluorescent light.

He didn't wear a coat, just a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His face was pure stone. The faint white scar along his left jaw was stark and pale against his skin.

The second thug lunged at him, swinging a heavy wrench.

Veer didn't flinch. He stepped inside the swing, grabbed the man’s throat with one hand, and slammed his head straight down into the hood of the nearest car. The metal dented loudly. Glass shattered. The man went down like an empty sack.

The third thug backed away, his boots skidding on the wet oil. His eyes were wide with terror.

Veer moved faster than thought. Two clean strides. A hard, brutal strike to the solar plexus, followed by a vicious hook to the temple.

The last man dropped hard onto the floor.

It was over in ten seconds. Pure, quiet destruction.

Veer didn’t look at the three bodies on the pavement. He turned straight toward me. He didn't run, but every step was heavy and focused.

He knelt down on the wet concrete in front of me. His knees soaked in the dirty water, but he didn't care. His dark eyes flicked over my face, taking in the blood at my temple and my bruised wrists.

His large hands touched my jaw. His fingers were warm, steady, and very gentle. He checked my neck, my collarbone, and my ribs with practiced care.

He didn't say a single word. He didn't ask what happened. His private investigators had flagged Dalia’s payments to a street fixer two days ago. He had been waiting outside Mount Sinai since four this morning, watching over me from the dark.

He slipped one arm under my shoulders and the other beneath my knees.

He lifted me effortlessly against his chest. I buried my face into his neck, catching the faint scent of rain and cedar. The world went black before we reached the car.

***

When I opened my eyes, the air smelled like lavender and clean linen.

Warm afternoon light spilled across the room. Outside the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows, the autumn trees of Central Park stretched out like a golden carpet. I was in Veer’s penthouse.

A neat bandage covered my forehead. The throbbing pain in my knee was dull, wrapped tightly in soft gauze.

I turned my head.

Veer was sitting in a dark leather armchair beside the bed. He wasn't reading. He wasn't looking at a tablet or his phone. He was just sitting there, watching me breathe. He looked like he hadn't moved an inch for hours.

My heart spiked in panic. The memory crashed back into me like an avalanche.

"Meilani," I choked out, trying to push myself up. "Veer, Kellen gave her heart away—she's in room 412—she doesn't have time—"

"Lie down, Emberly," he said.

His voice was low, deep, and steady. It cut through my panic like a blade.

"She is in surgery right now," he added quietly.

I froze, gripping the edge of the blanket. "What?"

"Her surgery started forty minutes ago," Veer said, his gaze never leaving my eyes. "At NewYork-Presbyterian. A second donor

heart came through from Zurich eighteen hours ago. An exact pediatric match. I moved her out of Mount Sinai the moment you stepped into that parking garage."

My breath caught in my throat. My ears rang. "Eighteen hours ago? But Mount Sinai didn't even approve Dalia's transfer until this morning..."

"I didn't wait for your husband to make his choice," Veer said flatly. "I already knew what he was. The surgical team working on Meilani right now is the best in North America. I vetted every single one of them myself. She is going to live, Emberly."

The words sank into my chest. *She is going to live.*

Tears stung my eyelids, but I forced them back. I stared at his familiar, unyielding face.

"How long have you been tracking her donor list?" I whispered. "How long have you had eyes on my family?"

Veer held my gaze.

"Since the day you married him."

***

The bedroom went completely silent.

I pressed my thumb hard against the glass face of my watch. I pressed until the skin under my nail turned white. The silence stretched between us for a long, painful minute.

Three years.

For three years, I had believed I was carrying the entire sky on my back. I had spent countless nights pacing hospital lobbies, begging doctors, and staring at monitors alone while Kellen made excuses about hospital politics. I thought I was the only wall between my child and death.

And Veer had been standing right behind me the whole time. Quiet. Unseen. Unmoving.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice broke slightly. "Why did you let me carry all of it alone?"

Veer leaned forward. He rested his forearms on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my chest ache.

"Because you needed to feel like you were doing it yourself," he said softly. "And you were. You fought like hell for her, Emberly. I just made sure the net was there if you fell."

It was the longest sentence he had spoken to me in four years.

A tight knot swelled in my throat. I couldn't look at him anymore. I turned my head toward the bright glass window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline below.

I blinked fast, but it was too late.

Veer saw the bright shimmer in my eyes before I could wipe it away.