The Heart That Wasn’t Mine, the Life I Never Asked For Chapter 02

The Heart That Wasn’t Mine, the Life I Never Asked For Chapter 02

The procedure took an hour. I walked out of the operating room and booked the heart extraction for one week from now.

Outside the hospital, I pressed a hand to my abdomen and breathed through the pain.

I swallowed a painkiller. Then my phone rang.

“Savannah. The Pinnacle Club. Ten minutes.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I tucked the extraction paperwork into my bag and caught a cab.

The second I stepped through the door, a ball slammed into my face.

“Shaw, you called it. It really is Savannah.”

“Almost thought we hit the wrong girl.”

Someone laughed and scooped the ball back up.

My nose screamed with pain. A warm, metallic taste flooded the back of my throat.

Blood dripped onto the white carpet in slow, even drops.

I wiped it without thinking. I’d stopped reacting to nosebleeds a long time ago. I walked over to Ethan.

His chest was bare, kiss marks scattered across his skin. A woman was curled against his side. He swirled his glass, looked at me, and let out a short contemptuous laugh.

“Show up?”

“Lost at cards tonight. You’re drinking the whole case.”

I looked at him and smiled.

Then I grabbed a beer and tipped it back without a word.

The alcohol burned all the way down.

My vision blurred at the edges.

Less than a minute later, the bottle was empty and my stomach was in revolt.

I didn’t stop. I wiped my mouth and reached for the next one.

My fingers closed around the cold glass and my heart seized.

I dug my nails into my palm and tried to make it to the couch.

Someone kicked me down.

Bang.

My head cracked against the floor. The room nearly went black.

I got up again. Laughter broke out across the suite.

Ethan sat at the center of it all, a faint smile on his lips.

“Enough.”

The room went quiet.

He walked toward me slowly, took my arm, and lifted me to my feet. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out the sapphire ring, the one from the news footage.

The blue was stunning under the suite’s low light.

Ethan looked at me with unreadable eyes. He dropped to one knee.

“Savannah Cole. Will you marry me?”

I hadn’t even processed the words.

His mouth curved into a cold, mocking smile.

“Were you already rehearsing? Already planning how you’d cry when you said yes?”

“Too bad, Savannah. This ring was never for you.”

He turned and held it out to the girl beside him.

White sundress. Flushed cheeks. Bright, clear eyes.

I knew who she was. The film student he’d been keeping for the past few months.

Jasmine Pierce.

“Jasmine. Give me your hand.”

He slid the ring onto her finger and laced his hand through hers.

Then he glanced at me, just once, loaded with contempt.

His other hand slid gently to Jasmine’s throat and he kissed her.

The suite erupted.

I pressed my hand over my chest, over a heart that ached past the point of feeling, and let the tears fall into the noise around me.

An hour later, the party broke up.

Ethan carried Jasmine to the car, rolled down the window, and looked back at me with an easy familiarity that had no warmth in it.

“It’s 1 a.m., Savannah. Walk home.”

“Take the route past the old crash site.”

“I don’t want to see you living too comfortably.”

The car pulled away.

I stood there as the cold came in.

Forcing myself through every step, pain bleeding through me from the procedure, I started the walk up toward the estate.

1 a.m. The exact time the Lakeshore Pileup happened.

The exact time Vivienne’s heart was cut out and put into me.

Ethan never let me forget it.

Eight miles. It took me four hours.

By the time I reached the hillside estate, I was barely standing.

I dragged myself to the door and pressed the bell. The world went dark at the edges. I was about to pass out when the door swung open.

“Savannah. Go clean Jasmine up. She’s exhausted.”

Ethan’s bare torso was covered in kiss marks and scratches.

Pain locked around my heart like a vise. I clenched my jaw.

I looked up into his eyes.

And thought: [Ethan Shaw. One more week. Then I don’t owe you anything.]