Chapter 3

The emergency room was cold and sterile, a stark contrast to the burning pain in Donavan's arm. He sat alone on a gurney, waiting for a doctor, the blistered skin on his hand a testament to the day' s events. He had driven himself to the hospital, not wanting to involve his parents in the sordid drama.

As a nurse was finally applying a soothing cream to his burn, he heard familiar voices in the hallway. Frantic, worried voices.

"Is he going to be okay?" It was Kortney. "Use the best doctors! I don't care what it costs!"

"His head was bleeding so much," Danielle's voice trembled.

Donavan's heart turned to a block of ice. He knew, without a doubt, they were here for Jeb.

He quietly got off the gurney and walked toward the sound. Peeking around the corner, he saw them. The three of them were huddled outside a private room, their faces pale with anxiety. His own burn, a very real and painful injury, hadn't warranted a single question from them. Jeb's fabricated one had their entire world revolving around it.

He leaned against the wall, hidden in the shadows, and listened.

"I can't believe Donavan would do something like that," Jinnie whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and condemnation. "To push him so hard... Jeb is so fragile."

"He's become so cold," Kortney agreed, her voice tight with anger. "This is why one of us has to marry him. We have to. It's the only way we can keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't hurt Jeb again."

Danielle nodded, her expression grim. "She's right. The Pittman power is the only thing that guarantees Jeb's safety. Our families listen to the Pittmans. If one of us is his wife, we can run interference. We can protect Jeb from Donavan, and from our own families' disapproval."

The world tilted on its axis.

The truth, in its full, unvarnished ugliness, hit Donavan with the force of a physical blow.

It wasn't just about using his power as a shield. It was about using his power to protect Jeb from him. In their twisted narrative, he was the villain. The threat. Their marriages to him, in his first life, had been a cage. They had married him to contain him.

He remembered Jinnie' s deathbed confession. We used the Pittman name... to shield Jeb. He had thought she meant from the outside world. He never imagined she meant from him.

A strangled laugh escaped his lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain. It came out as a sob, wet and broken. He pressed his good hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the sound, but it was too late.

His phone, which he had been clutching, slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the linoleum floor.

The sound echoed in the quiet hallway.

The three women whipped their heads around, their eyes widening as they saw him standing there, shrouded in the dim light. They saw the tears glistening on his cheeks, the raw burn on his arm, and the utter despair in his eyes.

"Donavan?" Kortney said, her voice uncertain. "What are you doing here?"

"Your arm..." Danielle started, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. "Is that from the coffee?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at them, the architects of his agony.

"We... we were just worried," Jinnie stammered, taking a hesitant step toward him. "We were emotional. We apologize for what we said. You know you're the most important person to us, Donny."

The lie was so bald, so practiced, it was almost impressive.

"You're still going to marry one of us, right?" Kortney asked, her voice regaining its demanding edge. The real concern finally surfaced. "The families are waiting for your decision."

Donavan stared at them, at their beautiful, deceitful faces. The pain in his heart was a dull, constant ache, something he was learning to live with.

"My decision..." he began, his voice raspy.

He was about to tell them. He was about to pronounce them exorcised from his life forever.

But at that exact moment, a loud, piercing alarm blared from Jeb's room. The heart monitor.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The sound was a siren's call they could not resist.

All three of them forgot Donavan existed. They spun around, their faces masks of sheer terror, and shoved past him, rushing back into Jeb's room.

"Jeb! What's wrong?"

"Doctor! Nurse! Get in here!"

Nurses and doctors sprinted down the hall, pushing a crash cart. They swarmed into the room, shouting medical jargon. "His pressure is dropping! We need to stabilize him! Possible internal bleeding from the head trauma!"

The trio was in a frenzy.

"Do something!" Kortney screamed at a nurse. "He can't die!"

"I'm calling my father," Danielle said, her fingers flying across her phone. "He'll get the best neurosurgeon in the country on a jet right now!"

Jinnie was already on the phone with the hospital administrator, her voice low and threatening. "If anything happens to him, I will personally see to it that this hospital is shut down."

They were goddesses of wrath, moving heaven and earth for Jeb Clayton.

A senior doctor finally emerged from the room, his face grim. "The trauma caused an unexpected complication. He has acute kidney failure. He needs a transplant. Immediately."

Without a single moment of hesitation, Kortney stepped forward. "Test me. I'll give him one of mine."

Her words hung in the sterile air, a final, damning confirmation of everything Donavan now knew to be true. She would literally give a piece of herself for Jeb.

The doctor looked surprised but nodded. "And we'll need blood. He's a rare blood type."

"We're the same type," Danielle and Jinnie said in perfect unison. "Take as much as you need."

They would bleed for him. They would let themselves be carved open for him.

Donavan watched it all, a silent, invisible ghost in the hallway. The last vestiges of his first life' s love for them died right there. It wasn't a fight he could win. He was never even a player in the game.

He was just the prize they used to keep their real king safe.

He turned and walked away, the sounds of their frantic, sacrificial love fading behind him. He didn't look back. There was nothing left to see.