Chapter 1

My daughter was born with a congenital heart defect.

It took me five long years of desperate searching to finally find a matching donor heart.

Before we entered the operating room, my husband, a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, gripped my hand with tear-filled eyes.

"Don't worry, baby. I promise I'll give our daughter a second chance at life with my own two hands."

But halfway through the surgery, he rushed out of the theater without offering a single word of explanation.

I stumbled into the operating room, my heart sinking into my stomach.

What I saw was my daughter, her chest cavity cut open, lying in a pool of her own blood.

His surgical assistant stood there, trembling and stuttering.

"Dr. Miller said... he said Yara could wait a little longer. But Rowan Vance's son couldn't wait another second. He took the donor heart intended for Yara and left..."

I collapsed, screaming as I tried to call him over and over again.

But until the very moment the last drop of my daughter's blood ran dry, the call never went through.

On my way to handle her remains, I saw a post on the Instagram story of his childhood sweetheart, Rowan Vance.

【It turns out it was just a misdiagnosis, a total false alarm! Since we don't need this thing anymore, I guess it's a treat for our 'good boy'!】

In the video, her golden retriever was viciously tearing apart and chewing on the heart that was supposed to save my daughter's life.

As I looked at my daughter's cold, lifeless body, the last shred of love I had for that man shattered into pieces.

By the time he finally remembered the daughter he left on the operating table, all that was left for him was an empty room and a small, white urn.

1.

Two hours later, I signed the final documents and helped the staff move my daughter to the morgue.

It was only then that Zander Miller's call finally came through.

The second I picked up, the thumping bass of loud music nearly split my head open.

Zander sounded like he was in a great mood as he shouted over the noise.

"Vanessa? Why did you call so many times? Does our girl miss her daddy?"

"Why did you leave her on that table? Zander, you promised me! You said she'd be reborn under your care!"

I gritted my teeth, my voice a raw, ragged howl that cut through his laughter.

The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds.

Then, he spoke in a dismissive, casual tone.

"Vanessa, look, I'm sorry. It was my call to make, but Rowan's situation was a real emergency. We couldn't afford a single delay. Don't worry, I've already got leads on a new donor. We'll schedule a new surgery in a couple of days."

A couple of days?

Did he even remember that his daughter's chest had been opened, that she had been left to bleed out alone while waiting for him?

"Zander, our daughter is already―"

"Zander! The baby says he's feeling sick again! Come quick!" Rowan's voice chirped in the background.

"We'll talk when I get back. Rowan's puppy isn't feeling well, I need to check on him. I'm hanging up."

"Zander Miller!"

The only response was the cold, hollow click of the hang-up tone.

Looking at my daughter's pale, frozen face, I felt all the strength leave my body as I slumped onto the floor.

The morgue was set to sub-zero temperatures, but the cold sweat soaking my back felt even colder.

A chilling sensation crept up my spine and pierced straight through my heart.

My daughter's final words echoed in my ears like a ghostly whisper.

"Mommy, Daddy said... he said Auntie Rowan's son is in more danger. He has to go save him. Yara can be brave and wait for Daddy... Don't be mad at him, Mommy..."

The father she loved more than anyone had abandoned her at her most vulnerable moment.

Zander was the most authoritative cardiac expert in the country.

He could diagnose a patient's condition with a single glance at a lab report.

I didn't believe for a second that he couldn't see through a fake diagnosis for Rowan's son.

He just wanted to play the hero in front of the woman he truly loved.

In the past, I chose to turn a blind eye to his wandering heart.

But this time, his negligence had cost our daughter her life.

In a daze, I took out my phone and called my father.

Hearing my sobbing, my father's voice dropped into a tone of pure, protective rage.

"Vanessa, I'm flying back in three days. Don't you worry. I'll make those animals pay for what they've done."

I put the phone down and pulled my cold daughter into my arms, wailing in that empty, silent morgue.