On the day of the accident, the doctor said there was a 70% chance of survival. But Chase Holloway made his choice—he refused treatment. He left me and the child in my womb behind, cold and unfeeling.

I was wheeled into the operating room, his words whispered in my ear like a death sentence.

"I'm sorry, Helen. She needs this heart more than you do."

Only then did I realize the insurance document I had signed was actually an organ donation consent form. The accident wasn't fate—it was a carefully planned scheme.

Chase had orchestrated everything so he could give Grace Thompson a healthy heart. His Grace, his so-called "one true love."

Standing over me with a scalpel in hand, he said the cruelest words imaginable, cloaked in a gentle tone. "Helen, it won’t hurt for long. I promise."

That day, he carved my heart out of my body and gave it to Grace. She survived. My life ended.

***

When I opened my eyes again, the memory of his betrayal came rushing back like a knife to my chest. I gasped for breath, my hand instinctively clutching at the phantom pain where my heart should be.

In front of me stood Chase, his face pale and filled with an unsettling mix of guilt and desperation. He reached out to me, his voice trembling, "Helen, it's okay. Everything is okay now."

I recoiled, shoving him away. "Don't touch me!"

The white coat he once wore had been replaced by a tailored white suit. Around us, a lavish wedding venue gleamed with crystal chandeliers and extravagant floral arrangements. The murmurs of curious onlookers filled the air, their gazes flitting between us.

From the corner of the room, Grace stood biting her lip, her eyes burning with hatred.

I realized in that moment—I was at my own wedding. To Chase.

He stepped forward, holding a diamond ring in trembling hands. I ripped off my veil and slapped him across the face. "With you? You think you're worthy of marrying me?"

***

Chase’s messages came flooding in after I stormed out of the wedding.

[Helen, please, let’s talk. I’ll make this right. We can redo the wedding, any way you want it.]

We had gotten our marriage license before the ceremony because Chase insisted. "I want the whole world to know you’re my bride."

But now, his words were empty, just like his promises. I took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that had welled in my eyes. Then, with a single stroke of my finger, I blocked his number.

***

I once believed Chase adored me. He memorized every detail about my life—what I ate, what I wore, even the time I brushed my teeth. He kept meticulous notes, tracking my every move.

When I’d asked him why, he’d taken my hand, kissed it and smiled. "Because, Helen, I can’t live without you. I want to keep you close, always."

Looking back, I realized every moment of care was a calculated move. Every act of affection was just another step in his twisted plan.

Tears pricked my eyes again, but before they could fall, a rough hand brushed them away. "Helen, please don’t cry. It’s my fault. We don’t have to go through with the wedding, okay?"

Chase pulled me into his arms, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder as if that could erase the pain he’d caused. He thought I was upset about the wedding—how clueless could he be?

I turned to him, my voice calm but laced with steel. "Chase, tell me the truth. Is there something you’re hiding from me?"

He didn’t even flinch, his answer smooth and practiced, "Helen, you know how much I love you. I’d die for you."

Such a sweet lie. His lips might say he loved me, but his heart was always with Grace.

Suddenly, a familiar ringtone broke the silence.

Chase Holloway glanced at his phone, his expression stiffening. Without a word, he tossed the clothes in his hand onto the couch and slipped into the bathroom, answering the call in hushed tones.

In the past, I might have assumed it was an urgent work matter. Being a surgeon meant he was often called in for emergency surgeries. But now, I didn’t need to wonder who was on the other end of the line.

The ringtone was unmistakable—it was a melody Grace used to play in her dorm room back in college.

Back then, I didn’t know Chase was in love with Grace. I had foolishly chased him for four long years, convincing myself that his kindness and charm were signs of something real. He was handsome, polite, and self-assured—the kind of man who seemed too perfect not to fall for.

I thought I had won his heart the night he came to me, drenched from the rain. His arms wrapped around me, his breath warm against my cheek, and for a moment, I believed he loved me back.

He treated me with care, respected me, and apologized even when I was at fault. He once knelt before me to soothe my tears, making me feel like I was his entire world.

But now I see it was all an act. A rehearsed performance, scripted and staged for Grace’s benefit.

Grace enjoyed the spectacle of my one-sided love while basking in Chase’s devotion. Even as he knelt before me, his thoughts were with her.

***

“Honey, something’s come up at work. I need to check on it,” Chase said, brushing a kiss across my forehead before heading for the door.

Desperation clung to me, and before I realized it, my hand grabbed the corner of his coat.

“Don’t go. Please, just stay with me tonight.”

He gave me a faint smile, the kind that used to make my heart flutter but now felt like a dagger. “Helen, don’t make a fuss. I’ll be back soon,” he said gently, prying my hand away.

And then he left.

My chest tightened as I watched him walk out without a second glance. He was too convincing—his perfect facade had nearly blinded me. For so long, I had believed Chase had given me his whole heart.

I thought he couldn’t possibly have enough left to offer anyone else. But I had been wrong. My willingness to believe in him had only made me an accomplice to my own heartbreak.

As nausea churned in my stomach, I ran to the bathroom, retching until my throat was raw. The hours dragged on, and by midnight, Chase still hadn’t returned.

I didn’t need to guess where he was. Grace’s latest social media post made it abundantly clear.

[Today, Mr. Holloway said, “As long as my heart is still beating, I’ll always be with you. Love.”]

The caption was accompanied by a selfie of Grace in front of a mirror. She looked vibrant, her cheeks rosy, her smile radiant—not at all like someone recovering from a serious heart condition.

But the real clue lay in the reflection. Behind her, on the hospital bed, was the unmistakable silhouette of a man. I knew that back. I knew it as well as I knew my own name.

***

In another life, I might have commented on Grace’s post, naively congratulating her. [Congratulations, Grace! Wishing you all the happiness in the world.]

She would have replied, sweetly and condescendingly. [Wishing you the same.]

I understand now what she truly meant.

When the nausea subsided, my phone buzzed. Chase’s name flashed across the screen, his voice soft and familiar. “Helen, nothing major happened at work. I’ll be back by noon tomorrow, I promise.”

His words were meant to soothe me, but they only made my stomach churn again.

“I haven’t forgotten, okay? I promised we’d celebrate your birthday together this year.”

Once, his tender tone would have brought me comfort. Now it felt like poison.

Through the phone, I heard the faint sound of Grace’s laughter, delicate and coy. Before I could say a word, the line went dead. The nausea returned with a vengeance and I barely made it to the sink in time. My hands trembled as I wiped my mouth and stumbled back into the bedroom.

From the depths of the closet, I retrieved a pregnancy test report I had hidden weeks ago. It was supposed to be a birthday surprise. I hadn’t even told my parents yet. I’d gone to a different hospital to avoid the possibility of Chase finding out too soon.

Now, holding the report in my hands, I felt the weight of betrayal settle deep in my chest. This child was supposed to be a symbol of love and hope. Instead, it was a cruel reminder of the lies that bound me to Chase Holloway.

I had been so eager to surprise him.

Chase had smiled that day, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. Pressing his forehead against mine, he whispered with all the tenderness in the world. “Helen, from now on, all you have to do in this house is lean on me and take care of our child.”

His eyes had been so sincere, filled with love—or so I thought. Tears welled up in my eyes as I recalled how he had proposed just the day before, sliding a wedding ring onto my finger. But now, those memories were tainted. The only image burned into my mind was that of his cold scalpel, piercing my chest.

The wound throbbed with phantom pain, raw and unrelenting. Trembling, I grabbed the pregnancy test report, tearing it into shreds. The pieces fluttered to the floor like fallen leaves. A murderer had no right to be a father. Chase didn’t deserve to know he had a child on the way.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen, burning like a thousand needles. When I looked down, I saw a saffron-colored stain spreading on my dress. My hands trembled as panic gripped me. I had been pushing myself too hard. My overthinking had taken its toll—not just on me, but on the life growing inside me. Without hesitation, I dialed for an ambulance. But the moment the paramedics arrived, I regretted my decision.

Standing at the doorway was none other than Chase’s best friend, Adam Reid.

When Chase and I bought our apartment, we had chosen a place near the hospital where he worked. It hadn’t crossed my mind until now how that decision might backfire.

Adam was hard to miss, even in a crowd. Dressed in a pristine white coat and wearing his signature gold-rimmed glasses, his tall, commanding figure stood out effortlessly.

For a moment, he froze, his gaze locking onto mine. Then, like flipping a switch, his expression turned cold.

“She’s pregnant. Get her to the hospital immediately,” he barked at the other paramedics.

***

I lay on the hospital bed as Adam methodically prepared the ultrasound equipment. He moved the detector over my stomach, his voice calm but distant.

“Breathe in.”

“Hold it.”

“Breathe out.”

His tone was clinical, yet his fingertips were unexpectedly warm, brushing against my skin just enough to send shivers down my spine. The air between us felt strangely charged, though neither of us acknowledged it.

When he finished, Adam straightened and walked out of the room without a word.

Adam and Chase had been college roommates and while I knew they were close, Adam and I had rarely interacted. Chase had always described him as solitary and aloof, someone who preferred keeping others at arm’s length.

Whenever we crossed paths, I was usually the one offering polite greetings while Adam responded with a curt nod, if anything at all.

When Adam returned, his forehead was damp, a stray lock of hair clinging to his skin.

“There’s nothing wrong with the baby,” he said, his voice steady. “This is your first pregnancy, so you need to take extra care during the first four months. Don’t stress yourself out.”

I nodded, my lips barely moving. But before he could leave, I grabbed his wrist.

“Adam, please... don’t tell Chase about the baby.”

His brows furrowed slightly, and for a moment, he seemed caught off guard. Then he nodded, his expression softening just enough to hint at understanding. “You should stay overnight for observation. You can leave tomorrow morning,” he said simply before walking away.

***

The next morning, Adam accompanied me out of the hospital. Just as I was about to thank him, I froze.

At the hospital entrance, standing beside a sleek black Mercedes, were two familiar figures.

Chase was guiding Grace, his hand on her lower back, his body angled protectively toward hers. The way they walked together was intimate, far too close for mere friends. Before I could fully process what I was seeing, a pair of hands covered my eyes, and I was pulled aside.

Adam’s voice was low and firm. “Don’t look.”

I stayed frozen in place, listening as Chase and Grace’s laughter drifted through the air, growing softer until it disappeared entirely.

“Grace, soon you’ll be fully recovered,” I heard Chase say before they moved out of earshot.

My phone buzzed, pulling me back to the present. It was a message from Chase.

The text was accompanied by a selfie of him in his hospital office, smiling like nothing had happened.

[I’m at the hospital. Make something nice for lunch and wait for me, okay?]

I stared at the screen, bile rising in my throat. Grace’s figure had been completely absent from the photo, but I knew better.

Chase must have taken my phone yesterday and undone the block I’d placed on his number.

It wasn’t the first time he’d crossed boundaries like that. Ever since we started dating, we’d shared all our passwords and login details. I used to think it was romantic, a sign of trust and intimacy.

Now, it felt like chains.