Chapter 2

I found Ethan at his penthouse, the one overlooking Central Park, the one he always said was "our future." Chloe was there too, pale but glowing, propped up on a plush sofa, a gentle hand resting on her small, rounded belly.

Ethan greeted me with a frown. "Sarah. What are you doing here? I told you I was looking after Chloe."

"My father's heart, Ethan," I said, my voice flat, devoid of the storm raging inside me. "You gave my father's heart to Chloe."

He didn't even flinch. Arrogance dripped from him like expensive cologne.

"She needed it, Sarah," he said, as if explaining something to a child. "Your father was already gone. It was a tragedy, yes, but this way, something good came from it."

Chloe looked at me then, her eyes wide, a flicker of something I couldn't name – fear? Guilt? – quickly masked.

"It was for my grandchild," Ethan continued, a dismissive wave of his hand. "Our grandchild, Sarah. Think of it that way. Chloe is carrying my child. Your father' s heart is giving life to my heir."

My blood ran cold. "Our grandchild? You expect me to... what? Accept this?"

"Of course," he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a confidential, almost conspiratorial tone. "We can raise the child together. It' ll be like your own. Chloe will need help, of course. But you' ll be there."

He actually smiled. A self-satisfied, smug smile.

"You need to get over it, Sarah. He was gone. This is practical. Logical."

"Logical?" I choked out the word. "My father was murdered for his heart, and you call it logical?"

His eyes narrowed. "Don't be dramatic. It was an accident. A fortunate coincidence for Chloe." He glanced at his watch. "I need to get back to her. She needs rest."

He turned away, dismissing me, dismissing my grief, dismissing my father' s life as if it were a minor inconvenience.

Chloe said nothing, just watched me with those wide, unreadable eyes.

The rage that had been simmering inside me began to boil. This wasn't just betrayal. This was monstrous.