Chapter 2

The next morning, I went to my cardiologist appointment alone.

The hospital was big, impersonal.

Dr. Albright, the senior cardiologist, frowned at my chart.

"Eleanor," he began, then corrected himself, "Tori. Your condition is worsening. These recent stressful events... you need family support."

I looked away. Family support was a bitter joke.

A younger doctor, a resident named Ethan Miller, stood quietly in the corner. He had kind eyes. He offered me a glass of water when Dr. Albright left to take a call.

"Thank you," I murmured.

The diagnosis was what I expected, what I feared.

"You need a heart transplant, Mrs. Thorne. Urgently." Dr. Albright's voice was grave.

I called Marcus from the hospital waiting room.

"I'm at the hospital," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The doctor says it's serious. Can you come?"

His reply was cold, dismissive.

"I'm busy, Tori. Can't it wait?"

"No, Marcus, it can't."

"I have a meeting. Handle it." He hung up.

Handle it. As if my dying heart was an inconvenient business deal.

Later that day, a gossip site published a photo. Marcus and Chloe, laughing together at a trendy SoHo restaurant.

He wasn't too busy for her.

A strange resolve began to harden inside me. If I was going to die, I wouldn't do it quietly, as his victim.