I was planning my wedding to Ethan Carter, the man I adored.
On the eve of our vows, he burned my family's home to the ground.
He wasn't my loving fiancé; he was a monster hell-bent on revenge, blaming my surgeon father for his parents' deaths.
He shattered my father's career, bankrupted us, and forced me to become a servant to his cruel new fiancée.
He delighted in my suffering, completely unaware of the devastating irony.
The heart beating in my chest wasn't my own.
It was a transplant, and his relentless torture was causing it to fail.
I finally died.