Chapter 2

"No, Amy," Marcus Thorne's voice came back, softer now, a hint of wonder in it. "You're not wrong. I've... admired you for a very long time."

His admission, so simple, so direct, was a balm to my raw nerves.

"Then marry me, Marcus," I repeated, a desperate plea and a calculated move all in one. "Help me get away from him. From everything."

"Amy," he said, his voice firming, all business now, yet still kind. "If we do this, if I help you, it has to be a clean break. No contact with Ethan. No looking back. Can you do that?"

It was a test. A fair one.

"He took my kidney, Marcus," I said, the words tasting like ash. "He drugged me and had it cut out of me for Olivia Vance. There's nothing left to look back to."

A sharp intake of breath on his end. "He what?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," I said, my voice hardening with resolve. "What matters is getting out. Starting over. With you, if you'll have me."

"I'll have you, Amy," he said, a fierce protectiveness in his tone that Ethan had never shown. "I'll arrange everything. Discreet discharge. A flight. We'll go to Seattle. I have a place there. We can get married there."

Seattle. A new city. A new life.

"Thank you, Marcus," I whispered, a wave of exhaustion washing over me.

"Just rest, Amy. I'll handle it. Someone will be there for you within the hour."

He hung up.

I lay back against the pillows, the phone slipping from my grasp.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a tiny flicker of something other than pain sparked within me. Not hope, not yet. But a grim determination.

An hour later, a private nurse, efficient and kind, arranged by Marcus, helped me dress.

She handled my discharge paperwork with quiet competence, deflecting the hospital staff's curious glances.

Ethan hadn't returned. No surprise there.

His assistant called my room phone once.

"Ms. Hayes, Mr. Cole sends his apologies. He's tied up in a critical meeting regarding the new robotics patent. He hopes you're resting well."

A critical meeting. Olivia, no doubt.

I didn't bother to reply. What was the point?

I knew where his priorities lay. They had never been with me.

Just as the nurse was wheeling me towards a private exit, Ethan appeared, striding down the hallway, a bouquet of ridiculously expensive roses in his hand.

He stopped short when he saw me, his brow furrowing.

"Amy? Where are you going? The doctor said you needed more rest."

His voice was laced with that familiar, feigned concern.

"I'm being discharged, Ethan," I said, my voice cool.

He looked from me to the unfamiliar nurse, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

"But... I was going to take you home. I cleared my schedule."

I avoided his attempt to take my arm. "That won't be necessary."

"Amy, what's going on?" he asked, his tone shifting towards impatient.

He probably thought this was some kind of tantrum.

Before I could answer, he stepped closer, a charming smile plastered on his face. "Actually, I have a surprise for you. Come with me."

He tried to guide my wheelchair, but Marcus's nurse subtly blocked him.

He ignored her, his focus entirely on me, his eyes gleaming with a self-satisfied light.

He led the way, or tried to, down a corridor towards a private hospital garden I never knew existed.

The nurse followed, my silent guardian.

The garden was beautiful, meticulously landscaped. And in the center, under a rose-covered trellis, was a small table set for two, champagne chilling in a bucket.

Ethan beamed. "Surprise."

He then got down on one knee, pulling a velvet box from his pocket.

He opened it. A huge diamond glittered, cold and ostentatious.

"Amelia Hayes," he began, his voice filled with theatrical emotion. "We've been through so much. You're my rock, my everything. Will you marry me?"

The irony was a bitter pill. He proposed marriage after stealing my organ, after years of neglect and cruelty. This was his idea of "making it up to me."

My silence must have unnerved him.

Just as I was about to speak, to tell him exactly what I thought of his proposal, a figure rushed into the garden.

Olivia Vance. Dressed in a flowing white dress, looking artfully pale and fragile.

"Ethan! Oh, Ethan, thank heavens I found you!" she cried, her voice trembling.

She stumbled towards him, one hand pressed dramatically to her forehead.

"Amy," she said, her eyes flicking to me with a look of feigned remorse. "I... I just wanted to say... I wish you both all the happiness."

Then, with a delicate sigh, she collapsed.

Not onto the ground, of course. She crumpled gracefully towards Ethan.

He was on his feet in an instant, the proposal, the ring, me, all forgotten.

"Olivia! What's wrong?" He swept her into his arms, his face a mask of frantic concern.

The velvet box with the ring clattered to the stone path, unnoticed.

"It's just... the stress... I'm so weak," Olivia murmured, nuzzling against his chest.

He didn't even glance back at me. He just carried her away, shouting for a doctor.

I watched them go.

Bystanders, hospital staff who had gathered to witness the "romantic proposal," were now whispering.

"Just like always. Olivia faints, and he drops everything."

"Poor Amy. He never really saw her, did he?"

As Ethan carried Olivia past the trellis, she lifted her head slightly from his shoulder.

Her eyes met mine over his retreating back.

And she smiled. A small, triumphant, malicious little smirk.

Her acting was terrible, I thought with a strange detachment. But Ethan, as always, bought every second of it.

He truly was a fool. And I had been a bigger one for loving him.