Chapter 1

My daughter was dying. The donor heart meant for her life-saving surgery was gone. And my wife, the chief surgeon who was supposed to perform the operation, had run off to another city to care for her ex-boyfriend’s daughter.

While I was frantically searching for the heart, I discovered the brutal truth: my wife had personally transferred our daughter’s heart to her ex’s kid.

Furious, I called her over and over until she finally picked up.

But she didn't care. She just gave me a cold, irritated warning.

"Arthur, I’m warning you, stop using Lily’s illness to get attention. Her condition is stable enough for another five years. But Julian’s daughter only has two years left. This heart goes to her first!"

And so, my daughter died in absolute despair.

Yet, when my wife finally saw Lily’s cold body and the real medical charts, she fell to her knees, sobbing and begging me not to divorce her.

During dinner, my daughter’s heart condition suddenly took a turn for the worse. The ambulance rushed her to the ER.

I called my wife frantically, hoping she would rush back to perform the emergency surgery. But the only response I got was a text saying she was away in another city for a medical seminar.

After I pressed her repeatedly, I found out the truth. She wasn't at a seminar. She was at a hospital out of town, caring for her ex-boyfriend’s daughter.

Then, a doctor approached me with devastating news. The donor heart we had secured for Lily had already been used.

My daughter’s surgery couldn't happen. There was no heart left for her.

Panic seized me. I pushed through the crowd of doctors and ran to Lily’s bedside. I grabbed her tiny, cold hand, whispering that everything would be okay, telling her not to be afraid.

She looked at me with pure terror in her eyes, her lips already turning a pale blue.

"Daddy... where is Mommy?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why won't Mommy come see me? Does she... does she not love me anymore?"

"Daddy, tell Mommy I promise I'll be good. I won't get jealous of Chloe anymore. I won't cry when Mommy hugs her. Can you please tell Mommy to come see me?"

"Daddy, I’m so tired... I don't think I'll get to see Mommy again."

My heart shattered into a million pieces. Tears soaked my face. I grabbed a nearby doctor, demanding to know why the heart I had spent millions to secure was given to someone else.

The doctor reluctantly showed me the authorization form. It was signed by my wife, Clara. She had personally approved the transfer of that heart to another patient.

It felt like a lightning strike. I couldn't comprehend it. Why? Why would she do this?

This was our daughter!

How could she be so heartless? How could she give Lily's life-saving heart to someone else's child?

I fell to my knees, begging the doctors to do something, anything, to save her. I told them I’d pay whatever it took.

She was only six years old. She had her whole life ahead of her.

But the heart monitor was already flatlining, emitting a sharp, agonizing beep.

The doctors rushed past me, desperately performing CPR on my little girl.

Lily’s breathing became shallow and ragged. Her face was completely blue, and her tiny body convulsed in pain. It looked like pure torture.

I collapsed in the corner of the room, burying my face in my hands, sobbing hysterically.

I dialed Clara’s number over and over until she finally answered. Her voice was dripping with impatience.

"Are you insane, Arthur?" she snapped. "How many times do I have to tell you? Stop using Lily’s condition as an excuse to drag me home. Act like a man for once. All this crying and whining is pathetic. It’s why I can't stand you!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" I screamed into the phone, my voice raw. "Lily is dead! Lily is dead because of you!"

"How could you give her heart to someone else?!" I roared.

On the other end, Clara’s voice turned to pure disgust. "Enough, Arthur. Did you have too much to drink? You're actually lying about our daughter being dead just to trick me into coming back?"

"Lily’s condition is stable enough to last another ten years. As a doctor, when I see another child in immediate danger, why shouldn't I use the heart? Should I really let a perfect donor heart sit around for ten years?"

"Who did you give it to? Tell me! Who did you steal my daughter's life for?!"

But Clara just hung up on me.

I had to use my own hands to gently close my daughter's eyes—eyes that had died wide open, filled with confusion and pain. I watched as they covered her with a white sheet and wheeled her into the morgue.

My entire world felt blurred, like I was trapped under a thick sheet of ice.

Lily was dead.

And she was killed by the mother she loved the most.