Chapter 3

Liam, with a smirk, "accidentally" bumped into Ethan as he turned to leave. Ethan stumbled, and the folder he was clutching slipped from his grasp, papers scattering across the polished hospital floor.

Liam bent, picking one up with theatrical slowness. "Well, well, what have we here? 'Artificial Heart Replacement Evaluation.' My, my, Ethan, quite the dramatic illness you've cooked up."

Olivia snatched the paper. Her face, already pale, turned ashen as she read it, then flushed with fury.

"You're faking this?" she hissed, her voice trembling. "You're pretending to have a heart condition to extort money from me? After everything? You are despicable!"

"Liv, darling, calm down," Liam said, putting an arm around her, but his eyes gleamed with triumph as he looked at Ethan. "He's clearly desperate. It's sad, really."

Ethan felt a sharp, constricting pain in his chest. The artificial heart pulsed erratically, a frantic bird trapped in his ribs. He couldn't breathe. He wanted to scream the truth, to show her the scars, the daily agony.

But he saw the conviction in her eyes, the disgust. The truth would only sound like a more elaborate lie now.

He just shook his head, unable to speak.

The doctors had explained it all. The older model artificial heart was a marvel for its time, but it had a theoretical lifespan. Seven years. His seven years were almost up. The maintenance was constant, a drain on his meager earnings from food delivery and under-the-table construction gigs. The pain was a daily companion, a gnawing reminder of the failing pump inside him, the one that kept him alive while his own heart beat in Olivia's chest. He was living on borrowed time, with a borrowed machine.

"Get out," Olivia said, her voice like ice. "Don't ever come near me again."

Ethan gathered his papers, his hands shaking, and walked away, the accusation burning in his ears.