My Heart Beating in His Chest

"If it weren't for her cruelty, I never would have met you, my love," Julian murmured to Scarlett. "That three-hundred-thousand-dollar diamond necklace you were looking at? It's yours. In fact, pick something more expensive next time. I can afford it."

Watching them, the ache in my wrist felt like it was boring straight into my chest, stealing my breath. I wrenched my arm free from his iron grip. I refused to be a prop in their perfect life.

Just as I turned, Scarlett deliberately stuck out her foot, sending me sprawling.

"Oh my, Mrs. Dunn, you're so clumsy!"

I hit the pavement hard. The contents of my tote bag spilled out, scattering at Julian's feet. Seeing me fall, Julian's face tightened, and he instinctively reached down to help.

But Scarlett grabbed his hand, her voice sharp. "What's this?"

Julian's gaze dropped. A few bottles of cheap prescription medication rolled across the pavement, along with a medical alert card. The words on it were stark: ARTIFICIAL HEART PATIENT.

His eyes locked on the words. "Artificial Heart Patient..." A mask of fury twisted his features as he flung the card at my face. "Faking a heart condition for money, Rosalie? You haven't changed one bit. After seven years, it's still all about the money!"

I pushed myself to my feet, my gaze landing on Julian’s strong, healthy chest. A ghost of a smile touched my lips as I silently retrieved the card.

"Since you know how much I love money, Mr. Blackwood, why not lend me some?"

Scarlett clung to Julian's arm, her voice thick with manufactured sobs, but the look she shot me was pure venom. "Darling, maybe it's true? Besides, Mrs. Dunn left you, and that's how you got that kind person's heart! Shouldn't we help her out of gratitude?"

Her words were a calculated reminder of my abandonment. Julian froze, his face a war of anger and doubt.

"Some kind person's heart was wasted on you!" he roared. "You never deserved it!"

Julian pulled Scarlett away. She kept up her performance, pleading for me, but as she glanced back, her face twisted into a triumphant sneer.

I picked up the alert card, now marred by his shoe print. The mechanical heart in my chest gave an unnatural, painful jolt. My pupils dilated, and their retreating figures blurred into one.

After a long moment, I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip and stared at the words "Artificial Heart Patient." My fingers traced the faint scar that ran down the center of my chest, a seven-year-old reminder.

Julian still had no idea the heart beating inside him was mine.

Seven years ago, we were out of time. Julian was fading. The artificial heart technology back then was experimental, barely able to sustain basic functions, riddled with risks. When I discovered I was a perfect match, I made my choice. I would give him my heart. In return, I received the cheapest artificial model they had, with a theoretical lifespan of seven years.

Ever since, my life has been a series of sharp, stabbing pains. Coughing up blood, sudden weakness—it all became normal. With no money, the surgery to get a new model was always out of reach.

Just like that, seven years had passed. My artificial heart gave another violent, stuttering beat against my ribs. A familiar agony. It was long past its expiration date.