Henry’s face was ghost-pale, his chest bandages seeping through when he burst into the room.

“Olivia,” his voice was hoarse, deadly, “why are you talking about a grave?”

I slipped the envelope into my bag, my tone steady. “I went to the lawyer today. I had my will drafted.”

His grip clamped around my hand, desperate, trembling. “Stop it. Don’t talk like that. You’re not dying. As soon as Susan donates, you’ll recover. I’ll marry you. We’ll grow old together. You’ll live a long life—I swear it.”

I studied him in silence. Once, those eyes overflowed with devotion. Now they only reflected a desperation I no longer believed in.

I lowered my gaze. “How did you get hurt?”

He hesitated. “An accident.”

“Then why aren’t you resting in the hospital?”

“You didn’t answer my messages,” he muttered. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“I haven’t been looking at my phone.” My voice was calm, detached. “Your injuries are serious. Go back.”

Something flickered in his expression—unease, maybe—but he quickly smothered it. “Fine. I’ll recover fast. I’ll come back soon to stay with you.”

I only nodded, watching his figure disappear through the door.

That evening, I made a decision. If my days were numbered, I wanted at least one night to live as though I still belonged to the world.

The riverside restaurant shimmered with city lights, crystal glasses chiming like fragile hearts. I ordered more than I could ever finish—an indulgence illness had long denied me.

But the moment I set down the menu, my breath caught.

By the window, Henry sat across from Susan, cutting her steak with careful precision, the kind of tenderness that once belonged only to me.

A bitter laugh rose in my throat. So this was the man who had just sworn eternity at my bedside.

“Olivia?”

Susan spotted me, her eyes lighting up with mock surprise. She waved as if greeting an old friend. “What a coincidence! Come sit with us.”

“No need.” My smile was polite, my voice steady. “Enjoy your date.”

Henry pushed back his chair instantly, striding toward me. “Don’t misunderstand. This is just part of the agreement. Once we’re done, I’ll take you home.”

“Go back,” I replied evenly. “Don’t worry about me.”

My meal arrived, untouched. Against my will, my eyes drifted back to them.

He slid a velvet box across the table. Susan gasped as she opened it, revealing a diamond necklace that glittered like fire.

“Henry! How did you know I wanted this design?” Her voice trembled with joy.

“You paused on it in a magazine,” he said softly, fastening it around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, deliberate and intimate.

Pain ripped through me. Once, every gift he gave me felt like proof he could read my soul—like an open book, every desire laid bare before I ever spoke it. Now, he read only hers.

The restaurant lights dimmed. A three-tiered cake appeared, candles flickering like stars.

“Make a wish,” Henry whispered, voice honeyed, dripping with tenderness.

Susan clasped her hands, eyes closed, her face glowing in the candlelight. He looked at her as if she were the only light left in the world.

I clenched the napkin in my fist, nails biting through the fabric.

So it was true. All the devotion I once thought was mine alone… could so easily be given to someone else.

The candle flames from Susan’s birthday cake still burned in my mind when the night sky lit up again. Fireworks burst above the river—too close, too loud, too wild.

For a moment they were beautiful. Then sparks rained where they shouldn’t have. Someone had left a crate too near the crowd. The wood caught, the sparks fell.

I raised my arm as the blast cracked through the air. Heat seared down my forearm, blistering skin in an instant. Blood welled from a cut where shrapnel grazed me.

“Henry! I’m burned!” Susan shrieked, clutching a faint scrape on her palm.

He didn’t look at me. He scooped her up, carried her toward the exit, and vanished into the smoke—while I staggered alone, my arm raw with pain.

The ER was all white walls and antiseptic sting. The doctor cursed as he stitched and wrapped my burns. I kept my gaze steady, refusing to flinch, even as the pain hollowed me out.

The door banged open. Henry stormed in, still bandaged from his own injuries, breath ragged. “Olivia!” His voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside the bed. “I’m sorry. I should have—”

“You don’t need to explain,” I cut him off, my voice flat. “I don’t need apologies.”

He gripped my hand hard. “She’s my responsibility. I swear, everything I do is to save you.”

Save me. Responsibility. Words that once would have been love now tasted like chains.

He fussed, piling tonics and medicines on the table, smothering me with the carefulness that once had been affection. I made a small excuse—“I want that cake from the south-side bakery”—and he lit up like a man given absolution, rushing out to fetch it.

Relief tasted like freedom. I closed my eyes.

When the door opened again, his face was different—harder, shadowed. He thrust his phone toward me.

On the screen: Susan’s name. A timestamp. A message that read:

Help! Olivia had people take me. She’s forcing me to donate a kidney! Henry, come!

I stared. My throat closed. “That’s not true.”

“She said you led her away from the fireworks,” Henry said, voice raw. “A witness confirmed. You were the last one with her.”

“I didn’t—” The denial cracked. “She staged this. You know she delays, you’ve seen—”

But I stopped. Because I knew what he would say: We owe her.

His jaw clenched. For a moment the softness died, and the heir of the Colombo syndicate—the man made of iron and ruthlessness—looked back at me.

“If you won’t tell me the truth, I’ll find it myself.”

He didn’t shout. He didn’t rage. He simply gave the order, cold and quiet:

“Restrict her movements. No visitors. Monitor everything.”

The nurse faltered. “Mr. Colombo, where—?”

“Put her in the isolation ward,” he said. His voice was low, merciless. “Keep the temperature cold. I want her to remember what betrayal feels like.”

And just like that, guards stationed themselves at the door. Cameras turned toward my bed.

The tea the nurse placed on my table steamed faintly, but the room itself was freezing.

I lay on the narrow cot with my bandaged arm, staring at the frost along the window, and thought:

I had not been taken. I had been left.

On the nightstand, my phone screen glowed faintly. The countdown app pulsed in silence.

16 days.

Seventeen sunsets. Seventeen mornings I might or might not wake to.

Every number was a heartbeat, and every heartbeat was running out.

The isolation ward was colder than any winter. Frost crawled along the windowpane like veins of ice. My body shook so violently I couldn’t tell where the trembling ended and the grief began.

On the nightstand, my phone glowed faintly: 16 days. Sixteen mornings left—if I woke at all.

Exhaustion dragged me under, and my last thought was a memory—Henry Colombo as a boy, sunlight in his hair, promising: “Olivia, I’ll always protect you.”

When I opened my eyes again, antiseptic stung my nose. My arm ached from the IV, my lips cracked.

The door swung open. Henry entered, his arm shielding Susan as though even air might bruise her.

“Olivia, look what you’ve done.” His voice was glacial. He pushed up Susan’s sleeve, showing faint bruises. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, who knows what would’ve happened to her.”

My throat burned. “It wasn’t me…” The words rasped like sand.

“Apologize,” he ordered. His eyes were cold, unrecognizable. “Now. To her.”

Susan lingered behind him, feigning fear, though the corner of her lips curled with triumph.

I squeezed my fists, nails biting into skin. How many times had I swallowed humiliation just to keep the peace? But this—this was my mother’s name, my own dignity—if I bent now, what would be left of me?

“I didn’t touch her,” I said, each word heavy. “You can investigate. I have nothing to confess.”

Henry’s jaw tightened. Doubt flickered—only to die when Susan tugged his sleeve with trembling fingers.

“Forget it, Henry. If Olivia won’t apologize, I’ll let it go. Just… there’s one thing.”

Her eyes slid to my throat, to the emerald resting there. My mother’s last gift.

“I’ve always admired that necklace,” she whispered. “If she gives it to me, I’ll forgive her.”

I froze. My hand flew to my neck, clutching the chain until it cut into my palm.

This necklace wasn’t just metal. It was my mother’s hand brushing my hair before bed. Her voice telling me I was loved. The last proof that once, I belonged somewhere.

“No,” I breathed, my voice breaking. “It’s the only thing I have left of her.”

Henry’s eyes hardened. He held out his hand, unyielding. “Give it to her, Olivia. Think of it as compensation.”

“Compensation?” My laugh cracked, raw. “You’d make me buy back my innocence with my mother’s memory?”

He didn’t flinch. “It’s only an object. Peace matters more.”

Tears blurred my sight. I wanted to scream, to throw the chain at his feet, to run. But I was too weak, too cornered, too alone.

With trembling fingers, I unclasped the necklace and placed it in his palm. The metal left my skin like a piece of my heart being torn away.

He turned and handed it to Susan.

She cupped it like a prize, then looked at me, eyes glinting with mock sympathy.

“But Olivia… if you apologize now, I’ll give it back.”

My chest hollowed. Shame burned hotter than the IV sting. Henry said nothing—only watched, silent, waiting.

I thought of my mother. Of the girl I once was, who had believed love could shield her. And then I broke.

“I’m sorry.” My voice was a whisper scraped raw.

Susan’s smile bloomed like a poisonous flower. She stepped forward, holding the necklace between two fingers.

“Good girl. Since you’ve apologized, I’ll return it to you.”

She extended her hand—then released it.

The emerald slipped through her fingers and struck the tiles.

The sound of shattering glass split the silence, sharp and final.

I stared at the fragments glittering at my feet, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Susan pressed a hand to her lips, feigning dismay. “Oh no… I didn’t mean to. It just slipped.”

Behind her, Henry’s silence cut deeper than any blade.

At my bedside, the phone lit up again.

15 days.