Chapter 4Borrowed Beats and Broken Lies

I jumped, the file slipping from my fingers and scattering across the floor. Daniel lunged forward, gathering the papers and shoving them back into the envelope.

"Who gave you permission to go through my things?" His eyes were fierce, filled with a defensive rage I’d never seen.

"I was looking for my sketchbook..." My voice was a thready whisper. "Daniel... Morgan... she’s dying?"

"Her health is none of your concern," he snapped.

"None of my concern? I'm your wife! You’re spending every waking hour with her, and I'm not allowed to ask why?" I was screaming now, my vision swimming with tears.

"You’re being irrational," he said, turning his back on me and walking out.

The next few days were a frozen wasteland. We didn't speak. He stayed in the guest room. I wandered the house like a ghost until, finally, I followed him.

I tracked him to the hospital. He went straight to the cardiac wing, into Morgan’s office. The door wasn't fully latched. I pressed myself against the wall, holding my breath.

"You don't have to go this far," I heard Morgan say. She sounded desperate.

"I have to," Daniel’s voice was like iron. "I don't have a choice."

"But if she finds out the truth, she’ll hate you forever!"

"Let her hate me. As long as she lives, I don't care what happens to me."

I leaned against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. As long as she lives?

Was he talking about me? Or Morgan? He was going to use my heart to save her, and he was calling it a sacrifice.

I stumbled out of the hospital, barely making it to the parking lot before my phone rang. It was Mrs. Sullivan.

"Nancy, meet me for dinner. We need to talk."

At the restaurant, she had ordered all my favorite things, but her face was like stone.

"Nancy, I know you’re a good girl," she began, sliding a document across the table. "But Daniel... his heart belongs to someone else. It’s time to let go."

I looked down. It was a divorce settlement.

"Morgan is back. They grew up together. They are the perfect match," she said, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. "You’ve always been sickly, Nancy. Daniel has carried that burden for three years. Sign the papers. I’ve made sure you’re well-compensated."

I looked at the document and started to laugh. A jagged, hysterical sound.

I saw it all now. The whole family was in on it. Morgan needed a heart. I was the perfect "donor." Daniel couldn't bring himself to do the dirty work, so he had his mother force the divorce. Once I was alone, unprotected, and out of the house, they’d stage an "accident." My heart would be legally hers.

A perfect, blood-soaked plan.

"Fine. I’ll sign," I said, grabbing a pen. I scribbled my name without a second thought.

"I don't want a dime of your money. I hope they’re very happy in hell."

I threw the pen down, grabbed my bag, and walked out. I went home, packed a single suitcase of essentials, and left everything Daniel had ever bought me behind. The only thing I took was our wedding photo. I slid the picture out of the frame and tucked it into my bag.

On the dining table, I left a note.

Daniel, I can't give you what you want. My life might have belonged to your family for three years, but my heart? That belongs to me. I'm taking it with me.

I walked out of that house and didn't look back.

Late that night, the front door clicked open. Daniel walked in, his body sagging with exhaustion. There were no lights on. No small figure waiting for him on the sofa.

"Nancy?" he called out. His voice echoed in the emptiness.

A sudden, sharp panic seized him. He didn't even take off his shoes before racing upstairs. The bedroom was empty. Her closet was half-bare. The wedding photo on the nightstand was gone, leaving only an empty silver frame.

He ran back downstairs, his eyes frantic. Finally, he saw the papers on the dining table. He picked up the note, his hands shaking so violently the paper rattled.

As he read my words, the color drained from his face until he looked like a corpse himself.