His Fiancée Wanted My Eyes, But I Will Steal His Heir

Brodie’s phone was nearly dead—flooded with calls from the hospital and Fiona and her mother’s frantic attempts to reach Brodie—when Brodie finally made it back to the hospital.

He walked briskly down the corridor, heading straight for the room. Before he could knock, the urgent voices inside stopped him cold.

“If Ariel Reed were here, I’d make her face this head-on. But I’ve searched everywhere—I can’t find her. Please, just trust me this time. Okay? We can’t afford to wait. Miss this chance, and you may never see again,” Maria pleaded, her voice teetering between urgency and despair.

“Brodie… I need Brodie…” Fiona’s voice shook.

“Okay, okay. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Brodie will be here soon. I’ll call him again,” Maria soothed, shooting a nervous glance at her phone.

Brodie paused in the doorway, then slipped quietly into the room. His phone gave one last dying flicker and went black.

“Brodie? Is that you?” Fiona asked instantly, as if she could feel him there despite her blindness. She shot upright, hands reaching for him—only to fumble and nearly tumble off the bed.

Brodie moved fast, catching her before she fell and easing her back onto the bed. She clung to his neck like she’d never let go.

“Brodie, don’t leave me,” she sobbed.

“Shh. It’s okay. Don’t cry,” Maria murmured, worry threading through every word.

Brodie frowned down at the woman clinging to him like her life depended on it. “There was an emergency at work. It’s fine. No more tears.”

Fiona was anything but reassured. Her grip tightened, teeth gritted in silent frustration.

She hadn’t been asleep when Brodie’s phone woke her earlier. She’d heard it clearly—Maple Grove Villa. He hadn’t gone to the office. He’d lied.

Maria exchanged a look with her daughter, gave a tiny nod of understanding, and slipped out of the room, phone in hand.

“Tell me—why don’t you want the surgery?” Brodie’s voice was firm, leaving no room to dodge.

Fiona pulled back a little, dabbing at her eyes with a sob that felt a touch too practiced. “I know what it’s like not to see. Unless it’s for someone on the brink of death, I can’t push that hopelessness and despair onto someone else.”

“That boy is so young. He’s already fighting for his life. How could I take his eyes, too? It feels wrong,” she went on, her voice quivering with a martyr’s Fiona.

Maria cut in, slicing right through the sentiment. “You were generous. You gave him money for treatment. But what about you? Do you really want to live in darkness forever?”

“Of course not,” Fiona said. “I want to see you. I want to see Brodie every moment. But I can’t build my happiness on someone else’s suffering. We’re not enemies. I can’t destroy someone else’s life.”

“Who told you about the donor?” Brodie’s tone sharpened.

Fiona flinched, then quickly deflected. “I overheard it. Don’t blame anyone else.”

Maria cut in, her expression turning serious. “Brodie, do you know where Ariel Reed is?”

“She’s in jail. She set fire to my villa,” Brodie said, no sugarcoating it. Then he turned back to Fiona. “Listen to me. Get the surgery. I’ll find him another suitable donor. He won’t stay blind. I’ll cover his living expenses in the meantime. Fiona, he can wait. You can’t.”

The logic landed. Fiona was speechless for a beat, her protest shrinking to a murmur. “But I already gave him the money for treatment. I can’t take it back if he refuses.”

“I’ll handle it. Rest now.”

With that, Brodie turned to leave. Fiona reached for her mother at once, panic rising. “Mom, what happened? Did you find her?”

“Calm down, darling.” Maria hurried to steady her. “Yes. We found her at the villa.”

“I knew it!” Fiona slapped the bed in frustration. “I knew Brodie still has feelings for her!”

“Don’t worry. What threat could she possibly be? A mother with a child, nearly blind herself. She’ll be here soon. Once your surgery is done, I’ll make sure she’s sent far away—so far she’ll never trouble you again.”

“Mmm…” Fiona nestled into Maria with a sigh. “You’re the best, Mom.”

Elsewhere in the hospital, Brodie approached a pale young man outside the ICU. He looked barely older than a teenager.

“I can pay for the best prosthetics in the world for her,” Brodie said, cutting straight to it.

He’d already been briefed on the girl’s condition: her leg had been crushed by a car, and she needed an amputation below the thigh.

“Half a million—just enough to save her life,” Brodie continued, naming the exact amount Fiona had given.

“Is she after my eyes again?” the young man asked. His voice was low, unsettlingly calm for his age.

Brodie faltered for half a second. “She doesn’t want them. But she needs them.”

He knew how selfish it sounded, so he tried another angle. “I’ll cover her prosthetics. I’ll make sure you don’t stay blind forever. I’ll find you a donor and restore your sight. All expenses on me—and I’ll cover your living costs until then.”

“Plus, there’s a five-million-dollar reward.”

The young man stayed silent, head bowed. He neither agreed nor refused.

“I don’t have time to waste,” Brodie pressed, frustration creeping in. “If you have any other demands, say them now.”

“She doesn’t need your help,” the young man finally looked up, meeting Brodie’s eyes with a resolve Brodie couldn’t read. “And she doesn’t need mine.”

“I’ll repay the half-million…”

His meaning was clear. But he never finished—urgent footsteps and a shout echoed down the hall, growing closer.

“Help! Help! Murder!”

Brodie recognized the voice instantly. Ariel. But she was supposed to be in police custody. What was she doing here?

His mind raced with questions as he rushed toward the commotion.

Behind him, the young man went even paler at Ariel’s name—and, for reasons he couldn’t explain, followed Brodie.