His Mistress Got My Daughter's Heart

Though Lily was gravely ill, Charles was a heart transplant specialist—that should have meant something.

But all these years, his heart was never in this family. Never with Lily.

The first time a suitable donor appeared, Lily was five.

I brought her to the hospital, hope burning in my chest.

The administrator told me Charles had given the heart to Mia Simmons's mother.

That night, Charles held me while I fell apart. He even shed tears.

"Althea, Lily can wait a little longer, but Mia's mother can't. She's the only family Mia has left in this world. Mia is devoted to her—if her mother dies, I'm afraid Mia won't survive it either. I can't watch my student die in front of me. You understand, don't you?"

I swallowed the bitterness. Watched Lily grow weaker by the day. Prayed we'd find another match soon.

By some miracle, the following year, another donor appeared.

This time, Charles didn't even tell me. He simply intercepted the heart and gave it to someone else.

I only found out afterward: the recipient was a child from Mia's village, a neighbor's kid.

I screamed. I fought. All I got in return was Charles growing colder.

I consulted relationship experts online. They told me I should try harder to please him. Maybe if I kept him happy, he wouldn't do this again.

So I did. Even in the bedroom, where his demands grew increasingly degrading, I gave him everything he wanted.

The humiliation. The heartache. But for Lily, I had no choice.

It worked. Charles smiled more at home.

But Lily's body deteriorated by the day.

Three months ago, the doctors delivered an ultimatum: if Lily didn't receive a transplant this year, she never would.

I told Charles countless times. Begged him.

And heaven answered—another donor matched.

But this time, he gave that chance at life to Mia Simmons's son.

"Hey, did you hear? That heart transplant Director Abbott performed today—that little boy didn't even need it!"

The nurses' chatter outside the morgue froze the blood in my veins.

I pressed myself against the door.

Fragments of conversation drifted through.

"I know, right? The car accident was nothing serious. The assistant even tried to intervene—said they should save the heart for Lily. But Director Abbott lost his temper on the spot. Insisted the boy needed the transplant, said recovery would be better this way, that the parents would feel more at ease."

"This is the third time, isn't it? You think there's something going on between him and that student, Mia? Why else would he be deranged enough to sacrifice his own daughter's life for her?"

"Shh! The girl's body is right there in the morgue—keep your voice down!"

The voices faded.

I stared at the recording I'd just captured on my phone.

My legs gave out. I slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor.

So Bryce never needed that heart.

So that heart was always meant for Lily.

Just hours ago, Lily had been prepping for surgery, every smile and gesture seared into my memory.

She'd stood there in her hospital gown, so small, holding my hand. Braver than I ever was.

"Mommy, don't worry. Daddy will bring me back safe and sound."

"Daddy's a hero. He's saved so many kids—he'll definitely save me too."

Over and over, I stroked her face—that face now mottled blue from suffocation.

I had told her:

"That's right, sweetheart. In just a few hours, you'll be running and jumping with all the other children..."

The anesthesia flowed into Lily's small body. Slowly, she drifted away.