Donating My Heart to His First Love

The dark liquid flew straight toward my face.

I did not freeze. I pivoted hard to the right, letting my momentum carry me completely out of the splash zone.

The scalding coffee missed my skin entirely. Instead, it splashed heavily across the heavy silk skirt of the wedding gown. Dark brown stains bloomed instantly over the pristine white fabric, soaking into the intricate pearl embroidery.

"Ah!" Rose shrieked.

She stumbled forward, thrown off balance by her own missed target, and grabbed her chest. Her knees buckled beneath her. "Edwin!"

He caught her right before she hit the floor. "Rose!"

"My chest," she gasped, her fingers digging frantically into the lapels of his jacket. "It hurts. She tried to hurt me."

Edwin’s head snapped up. His dark eyes locked onto me, blazing with fury. He gently lowered Rose to the leather sofa, then marched directly across the room.

He shoved my shoulder hard. I stumbled backward, my heels catching on the heavy, ruined skirt.

Before I could regain my balance, his hand swung through the air.

A sharp crack echoed in the suite.

The sting radiated across my left cheek. My head snapped to the side from the sheer force of the impact. A metallic taste flooded my mouth.

"You vicious bitch," Edwin snarled, standing over me. "She is dying, and you try to scald her?"

I turned my head back slowly. I lifted my hand, pressing my thumb to the corner of my mouth. A bright streak of red stained my skin.

"She threw the cup, Edwin," I said, my voice completely flat.

"Don't lie to me!" he yelled, pointing a finger directly at my face. "I saw you step out of the way on purpose so she would fall. You just could not stand seeing her in this room, could you? You had to ruin it."

I stared at his flushed, angry face. I looked at the hand that had just struck me.

A year ago, a blizzard buried the city. The temperature dropped to ten degrees below zero. Edwin’s mother lay in a hospital bed, needing a specialist who refused to take new patients. I knelt on the frozen concrete outside that clinic for ten hours until he finally agreed to operate. My knees suffered permanent nerve damage. I could not walk without severe pain for months.

I destroyed my joints to save his family. He slapped my face because his mistress dropped her own coffee.

"Are you even listening to me?" Edwin demanded, stepping closer. "Apologize to her. Right now."

"No."

Edwin stopped. "What did you say?"

"I said no." I wiped the rest of the blood from my lip onto the back of my hand. "I am giving her my heart in less than twelve hours. I am not giving her an apology for a mess she made herself."

"You provoked her!"

"I stood still," I corrected him. "She aimed for my face. I moved."

"She is sick!" Edwin roared, his fists clenching tight at his sides. "Her heart is failing. She is fragile!"

"Then she should stay in bed instead of playing games," I replied.

I did not raise my voice. I did not cry. The sheer emptiness in my chest felt better than any rage.

Edwin stared at me, visibly unsettled. He searched my eyes for the tears that usually followed his anger. He waited for my voice to shake. He waited for me to beg for his understanding.

I offered him absolutely nothing.

Rose whimpered from the sofa, breaking the silence. "Edwin, please. Do not fight with her. I just wanted to thank her. It was an accident. My hand slipped."

"You hear that?" Edwin snapped, turning his attention back to me. "She is defending you. Even after what you did, she is trying to keep the peace. You have zero class, Victoria."

I looked down at the ruined silk pooling around my feet. The brown stain smelled intensely of burnt roast. The pearls were sticky and ruined.

"The press will not like this dress anymore," I pointed out. "It does not look very saintly."

Edwin’s jaw tightened. He realized I was right. The pristine PR image he wanted to parade in front of the cameras was covered in coffee.

"Take it off," he ordered, his voice turning cold and businesslike again. "I will have my assistant bring a replacement."

"Fine."

I turned my back on him.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To the bathroom," I said, not stopping my stride. "Unless you want me to strip in front of you and your fragile true love."

I did not wait for his answer. I grabbed the heavy, stained fabric of the skirt and hauled it up, marching toward the en-suite bathroom.

"You are acting insane," Edwin called after me. "You think this cold act makes you look strong? It just proves how heartless you really are."

"Good thing you are taking my heart, then," I threw over my shoulder.

I stepped into the bathroom and kicked the heavy wooden door shut. The lock clicked into place, instantly cutting off the sound of Rose’s theatrical gasps and Edwin’s soothing murmurs.

Silence greeted me. The bright vanity lights illuminated the stark white tiles and the massive mirror above the sink.

I dropped the heavy skirt. The wet fabric slapped against the marble floor.

Reaching behind my neck, I gripped the metal zipper tab. I yanked it down. The stiff pearls scraped violently against the scar on my ribs again, but I ignored the sting. I let the gown fall from my shoulders. It pooled around my ankles in a ruined, expensive heap.

I stepped out of the silk and kicked it into the far corner of the room.

Wearing only my underwear, I walked up to the sink. I leaned over the cold marble counter and stared at my reflection.

My left cheek bore a bright red handprint. My lip was slightly swollen where my teeth had cut the inside of my mouth.

I turned the faucet on. Cold water rushed from the tap. I cupped my hands, brought the water to my face, and rinsed away the remaining traces of blood.

I grabbed a white towel from the rack and patted my skin dry.

As I lowered the towel, my eyes caught a flash of silver in the mirror.

I looked up. On my pale neck, the silver necklace I always wore—the anchor to the system—suddenly cracked with a shocking black fissure.