Chapter 1
It is the seventh summer Killian Reed and I have been together. I have just given him one of my kidneys in secret, yet there he was, showing up at his own promotion party with a brand new girlfriend on his arm.
I survive the brutal post-op recovery entirely on my own. During that time, Killian sends me a text message: [I wired a hundred grand to your account. Consider it compensation for the years we spent together.]
Another text reads: [I am getting married. Her family is well-connected, and she has the resources to help me get my health back on track. Do not contact me again.]
I sit in silence, watching him clear out his things from the apartment we used to share. He posts his lavish engagement photos on Instagram.
Meanwhile, a severe infection from the transplant sends me back to the ER time and time again. I nearly lose my life.
Two years later, my health finally stabilizes. I run into Killian at a mutual friend's wedding.
He chases me down the hall and grabs my arm, tears welling up in his eyes. "Eva, I looked everywhere for you. Where did you go?"
His voice cracks as he tells me his marriage has been nothing but a business transaction. He says it is over, begging me to forgive him so we can start over.
I slowly pull my hand from his grip and shake my head. "Killian, I have someone who actually takes care of me now."
*****
When Killian Reed wrapped his arm around his new girlfriend to announce their relationship at his promotion party, my abdomen was still tightly bound in the heavy medical gauze from the surgery I had undergone to save his life.
I did not break down or scream at him like the women in soap operas. The next day, when he came by the apartment to pack his things, I simply pointed to the fresh wound on my stomach.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked quietly. "I just had a major surgery. I need someone to look after me."
The confident smile on his face faltered. His eyes followed my finger down to the thick surgical dressing.
A faint trace of bodily fluid was already seeping through the white edges, a glaring reminder of how fresh and severe the incision was.
He clearly had not anticipated this. The breakup speech he had rehearsed seemed to catch in his throat, and the air in the room grew suffocating.
It made sense. He was a newly minted partner at a prestigious law firm. He was dumping his perfectly average girlfriend with an equally average background. He didn't really need a reason.
But I was standing there with a fresh, bleeding wound, looking like I could collapse at any second.
It forced a rare moment of hesitation out of him, or perhaps it was just the obligatory decency one feigns when faced with someone so obviously helpless.
Killian stayed quiet for a long time before he finally spoke, "I will wire you another 400 grand. That is 500 grand in total. You should just take care of yourself."
The boy who used to stay up all night helping me cram for college finals was now trying to use a check to buy out the kidney I lost and the seven years I gave him.
My heart turned entirely to ice. We had shared every dream and every ounce of our youth, yet in the end, I had forfeited my own right to tell him the truth.
I let out a long breath and accepted the money transfer on my phone. Then, I looked up and met his eyes.
"Do you need a receipt?" I asked.
"What?" he asked.
"Do I need to write 'paid in full' so that you and your future wife can sleep soundly at night?" I explained.
Killian gave a stiff smile. "No. Just consider it my way of saying thank you."
He genuinely believed that money could settle every debt between us.
I said nothing more, staring at the bank notification on my screen as I watched him open the closet and pull out the last of his designer dress shirts and silk ties.
He had clearly been planning this clean break for a while. Every trace of his existence in this apartment was being erased with ruthless efficiency.
The evening sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over his focused profile. For a fleeting second, he looked exactly like that boy sitting in the campus library sunbeams, earnestly promising me that he would always be in my future.
But the loud zip of his suitcase brought me back to reality. His voice was crisp and businesslike. "I am going to delete your contact info. My fiancée does not care for unnecessary social ties.
"If there is an emergency, you can call the receptionist at my firm. She will pass the message along."
He walked to the entryway and slipped on his shoes. They were the leather oxfords I had bought him with my very first paycheck. He was wearing them as he walked away toward a brighter future.
"By the way," he said with his hand on the doorknob. "What was your surgery for anyway? Claire's family is close with several top medical specialists. I could have them take a look."
Claire Bennett was the wealthy, well-connected heiress he had paraded around at his party.
My voice sounded completely hollow as I replied, "There is no need. Thank you."