The Price of His Sick Love

Replaced While Still Alive

"No—" Elias started, about to argue.

Then, Zoey's voice drifted through the phone, so close she sounded like she was pressed right against him. "Elias, these matching rings are so pretty..."

"Done. I'd burn the whole auction house down if I had to. They're yours." Then, his tone changed when he spoke to me. "Celia, you're an adult. Take care of yourself."

The warmth vanished from his voice, replaced with casual indifference. He brushed me off with a couple of perfunctory words and hung up.

Before Zoey came along, things had been different.

There had been a time after I landed in the hospital with stomach bleeding from too many business dinners, the doctor warned Elias that my rare blood type made any complication dangerous.

He didn't sleep for days. He cried and begged me not to leave him. After that, he barely left my side. If I got so much as a paper cut, he'd panic.

Now I had lost a kidney, and all I got was an absent-minded dismissal.

Although I had chosen to let things go, that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and I blocked his number.

The first thing I did that day was hire a deep-cleaning crew to strip the house of everything that belonged to me.

The handmade couple figurines. Twenty thousand photos from seven years together. Even the villa keys. I burned it all to ash with my own hands.

…

The next day, I hired a mortuary service and made arrangements for after my death, specifically what they should do to my corpse.

On the third day, I dragged my friends from one party to the next.

When I lost a dare and ended up linking arms to drink with a ridiculously handsome guy, one of my friends went pale.

"If your man sees this, he'll kill me."

Under the flashing lights and pounding music, I smiled without a trace of hesitation. "I don't care."

That night, Elias finally snapped.

He sent me a grainy photo of me and the guy drinking together in the dim club lighting. 'Celia, get home and get on your knees to explain yourself.'

On the fourth day, I finally went home. I didn't do it because I was afraid of him. I returned because my delivery had arrived.

The housekeeper, Mary, opened the door and lowered her voice. "Ms. Starling, please, don't argue with Mr. Thatcher. Just admit you were wrong, and this will blow over."

I walked inside and immediately saw Elias sitting on the couch, comforting a sobbing Zoey.

Zoey was wearing pajamas. There, clutched in her hands, was a pale pink outfit I'd bought for my own funeral.

The matching women's ring on her finger caught the light.

I was still trying to make sense of it when she saw me and started crying harder.

"Celia, I know you look down on me and don't want me living here, but did you really have to curse me by sending me funeral clothes?"

So, she already moved into my house when I wasn't around. I didn't even know that.

Elias frowned. "Celia, I never expected this from you. You act generous to my face, but behind my back, you're this petty? You stormed out, went partying, acted like a lunatic, and I didn't even fight with you over it. I only let Zoey stay here so I could take care of her, and yet you—"

I took the funeral clothes straight out of Zoey's hands. "Who said they were for her?"

I unfolded them and slipped them on. "They're for me."

I even turned toward the floor-length mirror and checked the fit.

It was perfect.

I used to be terrified of dying. I was terrified that if I left Elias, he wouldn't survive it.

But when death was actually standing at my door, I realized how I'd dramatically overestimated my own importance.

Elias' expression darkened. He shot to his feet and reached for the buttons of the funeral outfit. "Celia, have you lost your mind? Take that off right now!"

I stepped aside, avoiding him.

His expression hardened. "If you do something wrong, you own it. Stop dodging the issue and apologize to Zoey."

Before I could say anything, he unclenched his fist, let out a sigh, and pulled out several documents.

"You checked yourself out of the hospital just to throw a tantrum and go have fun. Zoey, on the other hand, got discharged and came straight back to work. She's been pulling overtime for days because she actually cares about the company."

He held the papers out toward me.

"She says she's grateful you donated your kidney and wants to help lighten your burden. Hand over your vice president position to Zoey. It'll make things easier when she takes over your responsibilities."