Chapter 3

The harvest went without a hitch. Six hours later, my heart was beating again.

Inside Chloe's chest.

The moment Justin stepped out of the surgical suite, he went straight to Chloe's private recovery room.

Watching her sleep peacefully under the monitors, he finally let out a long, relieved exhale.

After checking her vitals, Justin returned to his office.

He collapsed into his leather chair and pulled out his phone. There wasn't a single notification on the lock screen.

In the past, I would have sent him dozens of texts throughout the day, sharing every little mundane detail—what I ate, what I did, how my design projects were going.

Justin had never once replied.

He stared at the blank screen for a long time. Eventually, he navigated to his contacts, found my name, and hesitated before tapping the call button.

The rhythmic dial tone rang over and over until the automated voicemail kicked in. Nobody answered.

Justin's patience wore thin.

He opened WhatsApp, clicked on our chat thread, and fired off two irritated voice memos.

"Clara, you already agreed to the divorce. Ignoring my calls isn't going to change my mind."

"Don't flatter yourself into thinking this little game of playing hard to get will stop me from signing those papers!"

Watching his self-righteous scowl, I let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Justin... if you hated me so much, why did you ever marry me?"

Not that it mattered anymore. The annoying wife who had irritated him for five years had died on the highway in the pouring rain.

He would never have to be annoyed by me again.

For the first time ever, Justin's messages vanished into the void. I was completely gone.

Yet he made no effort to look for me. He had convinced himself that I was just throwing a tantrum, hiding away like a coward to delay the divorce.

My body remained in the hospital morgue, unclaimed.

The reason was simple: I was an orphan.

Growing up in the foster system and eventually clawing my way into one of the country's top art and design academies had been one of the proudest achievements of my life.

The other had been marrying Justin.

Back in college, he wasn't just the crown jewel of the pre-med track; he was the untouchable golden boy every girl whispered about in the hallways.

Back then, Justin only had eyes for Chloe. Even over in the design department, everyone knew their picture-perfect love story.

The first time I saw him was at an inter-college mixer.

Surrounded by a sea of people, Justin stood in a tailored suit, speaking with easy, magnetic confidence. A crowd circled him, but none could outshine his brilliance.

Later that night, when a drunk student cornered me in the parking lot and wouldn't take no for an answer, Justin stepped in and walked me out safely.

That was the first time my heart ever skipped a beat for someone.

I knew the gulf between our worlds was vast, and he already had a girlfriend. I buried that quiet infatuation deep in my chest.

It was almost laughable—someone who had crawled up from the dirt daring to harbor feelings for someone so hopelessly out of reach.

I thought that brief encounter would be the only chapter we'd ever share.

Until Chloe walked out on him to pursue her career abroad. A few weeks later, I happened to visit his firm to deliver custom cufflinks for one of his friends. The sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing over his striking, indifferent face. He tilted his head, looked at me through half-lidded eyes, and casually asked, "Do you want to marry me?"