At the engagement party, my childhood friend and fiancé, in a misguided attempt to comfort my sister's melancholy, slipped the ring meant for me onto her finger. Determined, I called off the engagement and married my college sweetheart, who truly cherished me. Our life together was blissful and tender.

That was until our newborn tragically passed away, and I uncovered that he had used our child's heart to save my sister's daughter. His cherished diary, brimming with years of secret admiration, revealed my sister's name on every page. Suddenly, I realized he never genuinely loved me. His affection was merely an act, exchanging my joy for my sister's lifelong contentment.

Awakened by this betrayal, a divorce agreement marked the start of my separation from Ridge Thomas.

---

I traced the lines of my daughter's face on the gravestone, tears flowing freely. Ridge sighed deeply, gently wiping my tears with a hint of hidden impatience cloaked in his somber voice.

"The accident was my fault for not taking better care of Myla. I carry guilt too," he said. "But grieving here won't bring her back; Myla is gone."

Those words shattered what remained of my already fragile heart.

"Ridge, our daughter died! She was only three months old—how can you say such things? Doesn't your heart break?" I screamed in agony, watching Ridge’s gentle expression shift to cold indifference.

"Esme, I have a career too. Should I give it all up for a child?" His voice rose, as if I were being unreasonable.

I stared at Ridge in disbelief, struggling to comprehend these words. We had waited six years for this child. The joy I felt when I discovered I was pregnant was still vivid, as if it happened just yesterday. How could he say this now?

Sensing his mistake, Ridge cleared his throat.

"Esme, we can have other children. Please, don't be so upset," he tried to comfort me, but I stepped away.

"Ridge, I need time to think."

Tears fell to the ground, and Ridge's hand paused midair. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the sudden ringing of a phone interrupted him.

"Yes, I'll be there," he said, hanging up. Ridge glanced at me with frustration. "I have an emergency at work. I won't be back tonight. You should try to calm down."

As I watched him leave without a backward glance, the pain inside me erupted, overwhelming me. I collapsed against the gravestone, consumed by uncontrollable sobs.

Our relationship felt like a clichéd TV drama. He was the caring senior who had admired me from afar, while I was engaged to my childhood friend. After graduation, he confessed his love, but I turned him down, thinking we would never cross paths again. Until the engagement party, when my fiancé put the ring meant for me on my sister's finger. To preserve my pride, I defied all objections, canceling the wedding and fleeing the altar.

Ridge came into my life at this crucial moment, offering sincere love. Out of spite and desperation, we married the next day. Six years of marriage, and he never let me cook a meal. No matter how busy he was, one call could bring him to my side. This man, who claimed to love me deeply, let our eagerly awaited daughter slip away due to his work commitments.

I returned to find our daughter reduced to ashes.

I was wrong. I shouldn't have been so naive as to think Ridge was different from other men.

I was the one who let my daughter die.

As night fell over the cemetery, I stared at my silent phone screen, laughing bitterly. What was I hoping for? If Ridge couldn't prioritize our child over his work, why would he remember me?

Standing by the door, listening to the conversation inside, my heart twisted painfully.

"Don't worry, she'll never know that the baby's heart was given to Aadhya."

It was Ridge Thomas.

My heart was racing, pounding like a drum.

What child? What heart?

Every word he said echoed in my head, and a terrible feeling rose from deep within me.

My hands trembled as I quietly pressed down on the door handle.

Through the crack, I saw Ridge comforting another woman, whispering tender words.

The woman beside him was softly whimpering, her demeanor full of fragile grace.

“Ridge, thank you. Without this heart, my child would have truly died from heart failure.”

I stared at the woman's face, feeling the blood rush through my veins.

It was none other than my stepsister, Morgan Simmons.

My husband had donated our child's heart to save my stepsister's daughter.

The shock of this realization hit me like a hammer, and it felt as though the world had come to a standstill.

When I came to my senses, Ridge was gripping my upraised hand tightly.

“Esme! Calm down!”

He shoved me aside angrily, fiercely protecting Morgan, who sobbed behind him.

Seeing my pale face, Ridge realized his mistake and quickly stepped forward to reach for me.

“Esme, listen to me...”

He looked anxious, as if he were carrying a burden too heavy to bear.

I shook off his hand violently, my voice cutting through the air like a knife: “What are you going to explain?”

“I heard everything! You sacrificed my child to save her daughter!”

One thought dominated my mind—I wanted these traitors to pay.

Suddenly, I was pushed back, and my waist collided with the corner of the table, bending me over in pain.

Ridge looked down at me, his eyes once tender but now cold and unfeeling.

“Esme, I told you, Myla died in an accident.”

“Donating her organs was meant to ease family tensions. Myla was my child; how could I not care?”

Morgan, still crying, reached my side and dropped to her knees.

“Esme, it’s my fault. I had no choice but to beg Ridge to sign the organ donation agreement.”

“I did it for my child. Don’t blame Ridge.”

“Myla truly died in an accident. If you hate me, I'm willing to pay for your daughter's life.”

Anger burned in my eyes as I lunged forward, my hands wrapping tightly around Morgan’s throat.

“Enough!”

With a sharp shout, I felt my insides convulsing.

Morgan coughed weakly.

Ridge’s momentary guilt disappeared entirely.

He helped Morgan up frantically, soothing her gently, and when he looked at me again, it was as if he saw an enemy.

“Esme, how can you be so selfish? I told you Myla's death wasn’t anyone’s fault—it was an accident!”

“Aadhya is your niece; saving her was our child's blessing!”

“Let me tell you, if anything happens to Morgan, I won’t let you off the hook!”

Having said his piece, he cradled Morgan in his arms and kicked the door open, leaving without noticing the blood pooling in my mouth.

I sank to the floor, tears streaming down.

Ridge Thomas, my feelings for you end here.

"It's my fault, Virginia."

"I was just so scared that day. I was afraid you really had killed someone, and that's why I couldn't control myself and hurt you."

"Hit me. Just hit me, will you?"

Ridge knelt by the hospital bed, holding my hand and pressing it against his cheek repeatedly, his words filled with a desperate sincerity, as if he still were that loving husband I once knew. I turned away, almost pleading, "Ridge, tell me how our baby really died."

With those words, Ridge's expression shifted completely. "The police said it was an accident. You don’t believe me? Not even them?"

After learning that our daughter's heart had been donated, I used my last ounce of strength to report it to the police. The investigation confirmed, just as Ridge claimed, an accidental death. Yet somehow, it was hard to accept.

How could it be such a coincidence? My daughter died the day before Morgan's daughter needed a heart transplant.

“Virginia.” My mother's sympathetic voice cut through the tense silence between Ridge and me, and the tears I had managed to suppress flowed freely.

“Mom,” I choked out.

After my parents divorced, Mom remarried, and all the maternal love that should have been mine was given to Morgan. Since the chaos at the engagement party years ago, I hadn't seen her.

But in this moment, I only longed for comfort. Before I could feel my mother's warmth, her words froze me to the core.

My mom pulled my niece close, gently guiding her toward me.

“Virginia, you need to pick yourself up.”

“I've thought it over. Since Aadhya has your daughter's heart, she's like part of your family now. Taking care of her would be like tending to your own child.”

“Your sister's not well, and your brother-in-law is busy. As her sister, it's only right for you to step in.”

I thought I must have misheard. My own mother, after I lost my child, offered no solace but instead asked me to care for Morgan's child.

"What enemy? She's your sister."

At my words, my mom's face fell immediately. Ridge looked even more displeased, "Virginia, the child is innocent."

Innocent?

Her daughter gets a new chance at life while my child lies in the cold earth. Innocent?

I never imagined I could be so unrelenting. "Fine, take her heart out, and I'll take care of her."

"Esme!"

Ridge erupted, hurling the coffee cup he held onto the floor, "How long are you going to be so unreasonable?"

"Morgan and Aadhya did nothing wrong! You're a mother too; why can't you be compassionate?"

Morgan, who had been hiding behind my mom, could no longer endure it. She cried genuine tears, "Sister, it's my fault. I shouldn't have used your child's heart to save my daughter."

"I should just die, pay for your child's life! Please don't curse my child!"

With that, she lunged toward the window, causing chaos in the hospital room. Cries and curses filled my ears.

I lay back in bed, caught between laughter and tears.