Chapter 2

As the search fleet sped away, Ethan turned to get into the driver’s seat.

I rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

"Ethan!"

He spun around, startled. "Vivian? Why aren't you at the hospital?"

"I should be asking you that!" I grit my teeth, fighting back tears. "You promised me you would go to the docks to get Leo's heart!"

Leo was our four-year-old son.

He inherited a congenital heart defect and had been on the transplant waiting list for a year.

If his condition hadn't suddenly taken a turn for the worse last month, we wouldn't have had to spend millions coordinating a private international organ transfer.

Ethan avoided my gaze, looking slightly guilty. "Vivian..."

"You know how many competitors are waiting for this heart to fail! Why are you wasting crucial time helping this woman find a dog?"

Hearing my words, the girl clutching his coat stopped crying. She shrank back into Ethan’s chest, trembling like a victim.

"Watch your mouth, Vivian! Scarlett is a dear friend of mine!"

Ethan’s voice turned cold. "Buster isn't just a dog. He is our baby!"

"If anything happens to him, Scarlett will break down!"

Our baby?

I carried Leo for ten months, nurtured him through four agonizing years of sickness, and he didn't even rank above a dog in Ethan's eyes?

"No! I don't care what you say today, you are going to the docks and bringing that heart to the hospital!"

I blocked his car door with my body. "Once I’m in the operating room saving Leo, you can go find whatever dog you want—"

"Stop being hysterical!"

Ethan grabbed my collar and shoved me aside. I stumbled, nearly crashing onto the hard pavement.

"Ethan!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "What happened to your absolute fairness? I won the roll this morning!"

The winner calls the shots. That was Ethan’s golden rule.

When we got married, he wanted me to resign from the hospital to be his private on-call doctor. I lost the roll, so I resigned.

The day I went into labor, he got a call saying Scarlett was injured. He wanted to leave. We rolled, and I lost again.

When my mother was rushed to the ER with a severe concussion, Scarlett’s car happened to break down on the highway. I rolled, and I still lost.

But today, for the first time in three years, I finally won.

He had agreed to cancel his plans of fixing Scarlett’s clogged toilet and promised to fetch Leo’s life-saving heart.

Yet, he was breaking his word.

"Play fair!" I blocked him again. "Are you going to break your own sacred rule?"

Ethan paused. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his signature golden die, and handed it to me.

"You win, you call the shots. Same as always."

He was so calm, so detached.

My hands shook as I took the heavy gold metal.

*I have to win,* I prayed in my heart. *Please.*

The die rolled across his palms. The seconds felt like hours, sweat slicking my hands.

But when it stopped, the single red dot facing upward made my vision go black.

Before I could process it, Ethan snatched the die back.

"No, that doesn't count!" I fell to my knees on the gravel, grabbing his coat. "The asphalt is uneven! Let's roll again, please..."

"Vivian, you play, you accept the loss."

He took a step forward. I clung to his leg desperately. "I’m begging you, Ethan. Please!"

"In the eight years I've known you, I have never begged you for anything. If Leo doesn't get this surgery today, he will die!"

Ethan paused. He didn't look back, but he pulled out his phone.

"Carter, take a car and fetch the boy's transplant box from the docks."

Then he looked down at me. "Are you satisfied now?"

"No!" My eyes were bloodshot. "The docks are dangerous. Only you, Ethan Cross, have the authority to get that heart out safely!"

"Even if Carter drives your car, everyone knows you're here looking for a damn dog! Do you think our enemies are stupid?"

"Ethan, is that dog really more important than your own son's life?"

"Yes!" Ethan snapped. "Buster only responds to my scent and Scarlett’s!"

He pointed a finger at my forehead. "Vivian, the more time you waste throwing this tantrum, the less of a chance your son has to survive!"

With that, he brushed me off and slammed the car door shut.

The words "your son" froze me to the core.

I chose this man. I gave birth to this child. And I rolled the die myself.

Who else could I blame for my rotten luck?

The SUV roared to life, leaving me in a cloud of dust. As the dust settled, something caught the streetlights.

I leaned down and picked up the golden die he had dropped in his haste.

I shook it instinctively, and my heart sank into an abyss.