Chapter 1

My wedding was supposed to be next week.

Instead, I was in a hospital, watching my mother, Eleanor, fight for her life.

It happened so fast.

Mom had gone to my apartment to pick up a dress.

She saw him. My fiancé. With Sarah, my best friend.

In my bed.

The shock, she told the paramedics before she lost consciousness, was too much.

A massive heart attack.

The doctors said she needed a new heart, urgently.

I knew what I had to do. Years ago, when Mom first got sick, we found out I was a perfect match for her. A rare blood type, we both had it.

"Take my heart, Mom," I whispered to her still form.

The doctors looked at me, surprised.

"I'll take an artificial one," I told them. "The new advanced models, they're good, right?"

They nodded, hesitantly. It was a huge risk for me.

But Mom was everything.

My fiancé, Michael, showed up at the hospital.

He looked pale when I told him about the transplant, about Mom.

Then I mentioned the medical bills. The surgeries, the aftercare.

His face changed.

"Ava, I..." he stammered.

He left an hour later.

The next day, Sarah called me.

She was crying, saying how sorry she was.

Then she told me she and Michael were getting married.

He couldn't handle the debt, she said. He needed someone stable.

I hung up.

The weight of it all pressed down on me. My mother, dying. My heart, soon to be hers. My fiancé, gone. My best friend, a betrayer.

Then Dr. Julian Vance walked into Mom' s hospital room.

He was the chief cardiothoracic surgeon, a name everyone respected.

He came from a rich Boston family, influential.

"Miss Ava," he said, his voice calm and kind. "I heard about your mother. And your incredibly brave offer."

He told me not to worry about the bills.

He would cover everything.

He would perform both surgeries himself.

He looked at me with such sympathy, such understanding.

A savior.

I cried, tears of gratitude this time.

The surgeries happened.

I woke up with a dull ache in my chest, a strange new rhythm beating inside me.

Julian was there.

His face was grim.

"Ava," he said softly. "Eleanor... your mother... her body rejected the heart."

He paused. "There were complications. She didn't make it. I'm so sorry."

The world went black.

Grief consumed me. My mother was gone. My heart, given for nothing.

Julian was a rock. He stayed by my side, arranged the funeral, handled everything.

He was so kind, so dedicated.

A few weeks later, weak and hollow, I was recovering.

Julian asked me to marry him.

He said he admired my strength, my sacrifice. He said he wanted to take care of me.

I was vulnerable, lost. I saw only his kindness.

I said yes.

I asked him once, timidly, if I could have my original heart back. Since Mom... since it wasn't used for her.

He looked sad.

"Ava, it was a directed donation," he explained gently. "Legally, it was for Eleanor. With her passing, there are complex ethical and legal barriers. It can't be returned to you. It's... complicated."

I didn't understand, but I trusted him.

He was my savior. My husband.