Chapter 1
On the day of the surgery, he chose his first love over our unborn child and signed the consent form without hesitation.
That signature shattered more than a life. It destroyed my heart.
I vanished, leaving behind a grave and a past he could never undo.
When I returned years later with my daughter, I was no longer the fragile woman he once abandoned, but someone he could never hope to reach again.
He knelt, again and again, desperate for redemption.
I merely smiled, calm and distant. "Do you really believe your repentance is worth the kidney I lost because of you?"
*****
The cold, white light from the surgical lamp pierced Vivian Lane's eyes, and the suffocating scent of disinfectant hung thickly in the air.
Vivian lay on the operating table, the icy metal beneath her seeping through the thin fabric, chilling her to the bone.
The anesthesiologist was preparing the instruments, the faint clinking of metal jarring her taut nerves.
She turned her head, her gaze landing on the man standing behind the glass partition outside the operating room.
Leon Hart stood there in a crisp black suit, his posture as rigid as a statue, head bowed, listening intently as the chief surgeon went over the final details for the surgery.
His profile was cold and unyielding, his thin lips pressed into a straight, emotionless line, not even a sidelong glance toward the operating table.
"Leon..."
Vivian could hear the tremor in her own voice.
One hand clenched the sheets at her side, while the other, as if it had a mind of its own, gently rested on her still-flat belly.
Finally, Leon Hart looked up.
His gaze, even through the glass, was as cold as ice.
"I'm pregnant."
She forced the words out, every syllable a raw, desperate plea.
The operating room fell silent in an instant. The nurses and anesthesiologist froze, looking at each other in stunned silence.
Leon's brow furrowed ever so slightly, but the expression vanished in a heartbeat.
He pushed open the half-closed door and stepped inside, the sound of his leather shoes echoing with a cold, indifferent rhythm across the tiles.
"What did you say?" He stopped beside the operating table, looking down at her.
Vivian clung to her last shred of hope, her knuckles white from gripping so hard. "Six weeks... I found out this morning, Leon. The baby can't—"
"Vivian," he cut her off, his voice flat and emotionless. "Rachel can't wait."
"But it's our baby."
"There will be other children." He leaned in, his shadow looming over her. The face she once worshipped was now marked by a detached, mechanical coldness. "Rachel only gets this one chance, and you know her body can't handle it."
"So my body is just yours to ruin?" Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, burning hot. "This is your child too, Leon."
Leon straightened up and looked at the anesthesiologist. "Start."
"Leon, I'm begging you." Vivian struggled to sit up, but the nurse gently pressed her back down.
She watched him turn away, his back utterly resolute, not pausing for even a moment.
"Leon... I'm begging you... This is your child..."
Her voice faded, barely a whisper, as the anesthesiologist inserted the needle into her vein.
The cold liquid spread through her veins, and her consciousness slipped away.
Through her hazy vision, she saw the operating room door open once more.
Rachel Summers was wheeled in by a nurse, her face pale and streaked with tears.
"Leon..." Rachel said weakly. "Maybe we shouldn't go through with this. Vivian—"
Leon immediately walked over to her, took her hand, and spoke in a gentle tone Vivian had never heard before. "Don't worry. I'm here. Everything will be alright. You'll recover soon."
That was ironic.
Vivian's husband, while she lay helpless on the operating table with their child inside her, was holding another woman's hand, comforting her with a tenderness he'd never shown Vivian.
In the final seconds before the anesthesia fully took effect, Vivian felt a warm liquid spreading beneath her.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
As the last tear slipped into her hair, Vivian heard Leon's final command to the doctor, "Make sure Rachel's surgery is flawless."
As for Vivian and the child inside her, they never once crossed his mind.
The halo from the surgical lamp blurred in her vision, washing everything in a bleak, ghostly white.
Vivian closed her eyes.
And she never opened them again.