Chapter 1

My mother loved one person above all else: her husband's younger brother.

To save Julian, my father and I were merely collateral damage.

Ten years ago, Julian’s heart was failing. My mother drugged my father.

She strapped him to an operating table in an underground clinic and forcibly harvested his heart, buying Julian another ten years of life.

That very night, I ran away from home and buried myself in medicine.

I graduated top of the country and joined the National Institute of Cardiovascular Research.

Ten years later, I developed the world’s first total artificial heart.

I became the most sought-after specialist in the nation. Hundreds begged at my door for a single spot in the clinical trials.

My assistant handed me the new batch of priority applications.

Sitting right at the very top was my uncle’s name: Julian Moore.

I picked up a pen and drew a thick, black line straight through it.

"Denied. And blacklist him permanently."

The list was ranked by donation size.

Julian was at the top because my biological mother, Eleanor, had put up an obscene amount of cash.

Yet, I crossed him out without a second thought.

He had been using my dad’s stolen heart for ten years. It was time to pay the bill.

My assistant, Lucas, stared at the paper in shock.

"Ethan... the Moore Corporation offered a hundred and fifty million dollars in research funding."

"Fifteen million a year, for ten years."

"If we take this case, our lab will never worry about funding again. We could double the number of charity patients we treat each year..."

I looked at Lucas. His voice grew quieter and quieter until it trailed off.

Ten years. It had been ten years since my dad died.

I glanced at the picture frame on my desk.

The original family photo had been torn in half. Only my father remained, holding a young boy in his arms, his smile gentle and warm.

"I know our budget situation," I said calmly.

"But this case is a permanent no."

Lucas didn't understand.

The day the artificial heart passed its trials, I set a strict rule:

A fixed percentage of our grants must be used each year to provide free surgeries for underprivileged young patients with terminal heart failure.

Accepting the Moore Corporation’s money would save dozens of kids.

Yet I turned it down.

Seeing the cold finality in my eyes, Lucas swallowed. "Then... should I notify their reps?"

"Yes."

He left my office, glancing back three times before closing the door.

On my screen, the system blacklist count went from 0 to 1.

Lucas had been with me since the start of the project.

What he didn't know was that my charity rule was never about charity.

It was about honoring my father.

I built this mechanical heart so no one would ever have to go through what happened to him.

My dad was only thirty-eight when he was murdered.

That night, my college acceptance letter had just arrived. We stayed up late in my bedroom, mapping out my future.

After I fell asleep, my mother handed him a glass of warm milk laced with heavy sedatives.

When I woke up the next morning, the illegal surgery was over. Julian was breathing. My dad was already reduced to ashes in an incinerator.

I didn't even get to see his body.

All I saw was Julian waking up in a private recovery suite, and my mother throwing her arms around him, weeping tears of joy.

Julian looked at me and whispered that he would take care of me in my father’s place.

But he wasn't my father.

And I would never have one again.

The moment I uncovered the truth, I vanished into the night and switched my major to cardiothoracic surgery.

From that day on, I tore through medical textbooks thick as bricks.

I dissected cadaver hearts over and over until my fingers bled.

I lived in the lab from dawn until midnight for eight relentless years.

By the time I finished my fellowship, the artificial heart prototype was complete.

It took another two years of clinical trials to bring it to market.

Ten years.

I never contacted them once.

Until today.

I leaned back in my chair.

The updated patient list landed in my inbox.

Almost involuntarily, I clicked on the old file I had kept locked away.

A photo popped up. The man on the screen bore an uncanny resemblance to my father.

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

My phone began to buzz furiously.

Lucas burst back into the office, out of breath. "Ethan! Eleanor Moore is on the line. I don't know how she got your private number—she bypassed the front desk—"

I stared at the vibrating screen.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

"It’s fine."

Ten years.

"It’s about time we had a talk."