Chapter 1
After my mom died.
I had a whirlwind, passionate romance with her fellow, Lauren Bennett.
That golden boy, with his flawless twenty-seven-year track record, turned his back on the Bennett family and threw away his future just for me.
He squeezed into a tiny, three-hundred-square-foot apartment with me, even swallowing his pride to beg just so we could afford a decent meal.
That was until I colluded with my sister to sell off the research results he'd spent a decade perfecting. In doing so, I destroyed the only viable bone marrow match for his mother.
His mother died because of me, and my sister and I fled the Harbor City.
Five years later, my sister fell critically ill and needed an emergency liver transplant.
I came back home with her, only to discover that the only matching liver was inside Lauren.
*****
Two months after Michael's death, my sister was still stuck in the ICU.
She had nearly a dozen bone fractures, a severe concussion, and multiple ruptured organs. It was a miracle she'd survived at all.
Just being alive this long was nothing short of a miracle.
It was my first time visiting her.
In barely a month, she'd lost nearly twenty pounds.
She'd always been skinny, but now her face was so sunken her features had changed completely.
I sat down by her bedside.
Her eyes were tightly closed, her face as pale as a sheet.
My hands, encased in sterile gloves, shook uncontrollably. I reached out, but I couldn't bring myself to touch her.
Michael was dead.
She had barely survived the ordeal, nearly losing her own life in the process.
Leaning in close, I heard her murmuring in her sleep.
"I promised you, Claire," she whispered, her voice strained. "I told you I'd kill him for you with my own two hands."
The tears I'd been holding back finally broke free.
Knowing she couldn't see me, I stood up in a panic and hurried out of the ICU.
She hated seeing me cry.
Since we were kids, we only had each other. She was the only person in the world who truly loved me.
The attending physician who'd brought me in, Dr. Ethan Parker, was a softhearted guy.
As I stepped out of the ward, he silently handed me a tissue.
I frantically wiped my face, my voice trembling. "Dr. Parker, is there still no news about a match for my sister?"
He stayed silent, but the answer was clear.
I got into the elevator and then walked out of the hospital building.
As soon as I stepped outside, the cold wind made me stagger for a moment.
The biting winter wind hit me, making me stumble. Only then did I realize that during the month my sister had been in a coma, I hadn't eaten or slept properly.
Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind me and steadied me.
I looked over and realized the doctor was still following me.
He looked conflicted.
In the biting winter wind, I saw a flicker of pity in his eyes.
After a long moment, he finally made up his mind and let out a sigh. "Actually... we did find a match."
A slip of paper with a phone number scribbled on it was pressed into my palm.
Ethan looked uneasy for a moment, then his face set with determination. "The hospital reached out to him, and he initially agreed.
"But later, his fiancée answered the phone and turned us down."
I stared at him in disbelief.
By law, organ donation followed a strict double-blind protocol. Neither the donor nor the recipient was supposed to know the other's identity.
By telling me this, he was risking his career and potential jail time.
My conscience urged me to hand the paper back.
But what I held was my sister's only chance at survival.
My hand trembled.
No matter what, I just couldn't bring myself to give it back.
*****
I returned to my cramped apartment.
The windows weren't sealed right, and the wind howled through the gaps.
A houseplant my sister had tended on the windowsill was dead.
Seeing its shriveled leaves felt like a curse, and my chest ached.
In the end, logic couldn't compete with the desperate need to keep my sister alive.
I steeled myself, unfolded the paper, and pulled out my phone.
But the moment I saw the number, my whole body went rigid.
Five years.
This number was a scar on my heart. I couldn't mistake a single digit.
But this was impossible. How could it be?
I remember that night five years ago like it was yesterday.
Lauren, a man who was always so gentle, had looked downright ferocious.
Right in front of me, he'd snapped his SIM card in half and tossed it in the trash.
Soon after, his mother died because of me. He wanted me dead, so I took my sister and ran.
There was no way this was still his number.
I clenched my jaw and punched the number into my phone.
Hands shaking, I pressed call.
My sister was running out of time.
A deep, resonant voice came through the line. "Hello, who is this?"
Even through the speaker, the voice was painfully familiar.
In that moment, any illusion I'd been clinging to snapped.
I'd changed my number. He had no way of knowing it was me.
I dropped my phone and it clattered to the floor.
He said something else, but I fumbled to pick it up, frantically hit end call.
Cold sweat trickled down my forehead.
It really was him.
Ethan's words echoed in my ears. "His fiancée answered the phone and turned us down."
His fiancée.
To be honest, it wasn't all that surprising.
Lauren had to be over thirty now. It wouldn't be shocking if he was married, let alone engaged.