Chapter 1My Marriage Was His Secret Penance

My mother was dying. I begged my fiancé to advance our wedding settlement so I could afford her surgery.

He didn’t even look back. Instead, he went straight to Gemma’s engagement party.

In my darkest hour, my childhood best friend, Xavier, knelt in the sterile hospital hallway and proposed. He handed me a check for a million dollars—no strings attached, just the price of a life.

I said yes without a second thought. I rushed to get the paperwork signed for my mother’s operation.

But in the end, she never made it off the table.

I was paralyzed by grief. Xavier stepped in, handling the funeral and the aftermath with a tenderness that convinced me I’d found my savior. We married shortly after, just as planned.

Five years later, I accidentally overheard him talking to a doctor behind a heavy mahogany door.

"Xavier, you kept the truth from Nora. You used her mother’s organs to save Gemma’s mother. Did you ever stop to think what happens if she finds out? You’re willing to ruin your life for Gemma?"

"If I’m ruined, I’m ruined," Xavier’s voice was cold, resolute. "I’d do anything for her. It was one life for another. I’ve spent the last five years paying Nora back with this marriage. That should be enough."

The tears hit the floor before I could catch my breath.

I finally understood. My marriage—the house, the "love," the security—was nothing but a curated lie. A penance.

His heart had only ever belonged to Gemma.

Fine. If he wants to be with her so badly, I’ll get out of the way.

* * *

The library door was a thin barrier between my life and the abyss. Inside, Xavier’s voice was thick with a regret that wasn't for me.

"Since she didn't choose me, the only thing I could do was make sure she didn't lose her mother. I wanted Gemma to be happy, even if it wasn't with me. As for Nora... I've given her five years of my life. I’ve compensated her. It's enough."

I heard Tyler, his oldest friend, let out a sharp, jagged breath. "Compensation? Xavier, that was a human life. If anyone finds out you forged those transplant consents, you’re spending the rest of your life in a cell. Is she really worth it? A woman who doesn't even love you?"

"My heart says she is," Xavier replied, the sound of a lighter flicking open punctuating his words. "I’d do anything to see her smile. I didn’t care if it was Nora’s mother or my own heart—I wouldn't have blinked."

"Don't mention this again," Xavier continued, his voice muffled by a cloud of smoke. "It’s in the past. She’s living her perfect life now, and that’s what matters."

"And Nora? She actually loves you, Xavier. If she ever finds out you're the reason her mother is dead, you two—"

Silence stretched like a wire about to snap. Then, Xavier gave a dry, self-deprecating laugh. "Then I’ll owe her my life, too. The money I’ve made these years... it’s enough to keep her comfortable forever."

"Man... I don't get you. Nora is a good woman, and you're obsessed with a phantom. Whatever. Do what you want."

Footsteps approached the door. I scrambled back, retreating into the shadows of the hallway and slipping into our bedroom.

I was holding a cup of tea. It splashed onto my hand, scalding and hot, but I felt a bone-deep chill that no heat could touch.

My mother didn't die because the surgery failed.

She died because she was a harvest. A sacrifice at the altar of his devotion to Gemma.

Five years ago, when Harrison broke our engagement and left me as a public laughingstock, I thought Xavier’s proposal was my redemption. I thought he was pulling me out of the fire.

I didn't realize he was the one who had lit the match.

All these years, I’d been parading my "happy marriage" like a trophy, oblivious to the fact that I was just a guilt-offering.

The front door clicked. Tyler was gone.

A moment later, Xavier stumbled into the bedroom. He smelled of expensive bourbon and tobacco. He reached out, cupping my face with hands that felt like ice, and kissed my forehead. His eyes were soft, filled with a mimicry of devotion.

"Why are you standing by the door, Nora?"

"Nothing," I whispered, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else. "I just spilled some tea. I was about to clean it up."

"Let the maid do it," he murmured, pulling me closer. "You're delicate. You need to rest. It breaks my heart when you're tired."

He leaned in, kissing my lips with that same gentle, protective rhythm he’d used for half a decade.