Chapter 1

My billionaire husband spent three years and a fortune to find a donor heart to save my life. He was my hero, my entire world after a woman named Karma Smith framed my father and destroyed my family.

Then, I discovered he'd been protecting her all along. She was his mistress, pregnant with his child.

Overnight, I became the villain in his eyes. He ignored my calls for help as her thugs beat me and dragged me behind their car. He forced me to kneel in the snow all night as punishment for the miscarriage she faked and blamed on me.

The final act of his cruelty was a sea burial for the "baby" I had "murdered." On his yacht, he held her in his arms, his eyes burning with a hatred that seared my soul.

When she "accidentally" dropped the urn into the ocean, he turned his rage on me.

"Then you'll jump in and find it!" he roared.

I looked at the monster who wore my husband's face, the man I had loved more than life itself.

And without hesitation, I threw myself into the icy water.

Chapter 1

"Are you absolutely certain, Mrs. Solomon?"

The doctor' s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a seriousness that cut through the sterile air of his office.

"Yes, Dr. Evans. I am." My own voice was a whisper, a dry rustle of leaves.

He sighed, leaning forward and folding his hands on the polished desk. "Eleanor, your husband, Mr. Solomon, spent three years and an astronomical amount of money to find this donor heart for you. He personally funded the advanced research wing where the procedure was developed. This is the only compatible match we' ve found. It's your only chance."

His words were meant to be a lifeline, but they felt like an anchor.

"If you refuse this transplant," he continued, his tone becoming more urgent, "your heart will fail. Based on your current condition, you have less than a month. At best."

A strange calm washed over me. One month. It sounded like a lifetime and no time at all.

"I understand," I said, my gaze fixed on a point just past his shoulder. "I am refusing the transplant."

Dr. Evans stared at me, a complex mix of pity and frustration on his face. He saw a fragile woman, the beloved wife of a tech billionaire, inexplicably giving up a chance at life. He couldn't see the wasteland inside me.

He pushed a form across the desk. "You'll need to sign this. It's a waiver, releasing the hospital and myself from all liability."

I picked up the pen, my hand surprisingly steady. "I need this to be kept confidential. My husband is not to be informed of my decision until after the scheduled surgery time has passed."

"Eleanor..." he started, but I just looked at him. He fell silent and nodded.

I signed my name, the ink a final, dark stroke. Then I stood up and walked out of his office, my steps feeling light, almost disconnected from the ground.

I didn't leave the hospital. Instead, I took the elevator to the top floor, to the private VIP wing that Cole had essentially bought out for the last three years.

This entire floor was a monument to his wealth and, I had once believed, his love for my family.

It was silent, except for the quiet hum of medical equipment. For three years, this floor had been my mother' s home.

The doctor's diagnosis had been blunt. "Massive stroke. She's in a persistent vegetative state. I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do."

I pushed open the door to her room and walked to her bedside. I took her hand; it was warm but lifeless.

"Mom," I whispered, my throat tight. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

It was all my fault. All of it.

Three years ago, my father, a respected architect, had his world collapse. A downtown skyscraper he designed suffered a catastrophic structural failure. The investigation pointed to falsified materials reports. The public disgrace and financial ruin were too much. He took his own life.

The key to his exoneration was his junior project manager, a young woman I had mentored and taken under my wing. Her name was Karma Smith. She was the one who signed off on the materials. But the day the building failed, she vanished.

My husband, Cole, and I searched for her relentlessly. We poured millions into private investigators, but it was like she had evaporated.

Without her testimony, my father was found posthumously liable. The lawsuits bankrupted our family. My mother, overwhelmed by the grief and shame, suffered the stroke that left her like this.

One night, I lost everyone.

Cole held me through it all. He was my rock, my entire world.

He dried my tears and held my face in his hands. "Eleanor, I swear to you, I will find Karma Smith. I will make her pay for what she did to your family. I will clear your father's name."

I believed him. In the darkness of my grief, he was my only light. I clung to him, trusted him completely.

Then, two weeks ago, I found it. An old, forgotten laptop of his in a storage unit. I was looking for old family photos. Instead, I found a hidden folder. Inside were emails and bank statements. Monthly transfers, for the last three years, to an offshore account. An account belonging to Karma Smith.

The world tilted on its axis. My heart, already weak, felt like it had been ripped from my chest.

All those years, while I cried myself to sleep, while he held me and swore revenge, he was the one hiding her. He was her protector.

He had been playing me for a fool. The entire search was a lie. He knew where she was all along.

My father died in shame. My mother was a living ghost. All because I trusted the wrong man. All because I brought Cole Solomon into our lives.

The piercing, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor next to my mother's bed suddenly flatlined into a single, unending tone.

Beeeeeeeeeeep.

The sound was a physical blow. My body went rigid. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Nurses rushed in, their faces grim. They gently pulled me out of the room. I stood in the hallway, a hollow statue, my fingers numbly dialing Cole' s number. It was instinct, a stupid, ingrained habit.

The phone rang once, then was disconnected. A moment later, his number was out of service.

My phone buzzed with a text message. It was from a number I didn't recognize. A picture.

It was of Cole, his arm wrapped around Karma Smith. She was glowing, her hand resting on her swollen belly. Below the picture, the text read: "Cole and I are so excited to welcome our little one. He wanted you to be the first to know. We' re finally going to be a real family."

The words blurred. A doctor stepped out of my mother's room, his face full of sympathy.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Solomon. She's gone."

A sharp, searing pain shot through my hand. I looked down. My nails had dug so deep into my palm that blood was trickling down my wrist, dripping onto the pristine white floor.

I was an orphan. My last blood relative was gone.

They let me back into the room. I leaned over my mother's still form, my tears falling onto her cheek.

"Mom," I choked out. "I'm coming. Wait for me. We'll all be together again soon."

I left the hospital in a daze, handling the arrangements with a mechanical numbness. My mind was a blizzard of betrayal and grief. There was only one thing left to do.

I had to see them. I had to see the truth with my own eyes before I left this world.

I drove to the address I' d found in Cole' s files-a private, luxury maternity center. Through the tinted windows of my car, I saw them walking in the garden.

Karma was beautiful, radiant in her pregnancy. She looked up at Cole with adoring eyes.

He was gentle with her, his hand protectively on her back, a soft smile on his face that I hadn't seen in years.

"Cole, my feet are swelling up again," Karma whined, leaning against him. "And this baby keeps kicking me all night."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that made my stomach clench. "That means he's strong. He's going to be a fighter, just like his mom." He leaned down and kissed her belly.

"You've suffered so much, Karma," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Living in hiding like that, all because of the Hesters. But it's over now. I promise you, I'll protect you and our son forever."

Forever. He had promised me forever.

Karma's eyes filled with fake tears. "But what about Eleanor? I feel so guilty. I never meant to destroy her family."

"It wasn't your fault," Cole said, his voice hardening. "Her father was corrupt. You were a victim. And she... she'll understand. I'll make sure she's taken care of. I owe you my life, Karma. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

He hugged her, and she buried her face in his chest, a triumphant smirk flashing across her face for just a second.

The pain in my chest was no longer a dull ache. It was a physical tearing. Each word, each tender gesture, was another turn of the knife.

I was done. There was nothing left for me here.

I drove away, my vision blurred with tears I didn't know I had left to cry. There was a place I knew, a cliffside where Cole and I had our first date. It was where we promised each other forever.

It was the perfect place to end it.