Chapter 1

### Chapter 1

“Miss Quinn, we made a mistake The man who received your fiancé's heart isn't Elliot Farley, the CEO of the Farley Group.”

The doctor's words, heavy with apology, nearly took my legs out from under me.

Two days ago, I'd gotten our third-anniversary family portrait, and tucked inside it was a photo of my husband, Elliot Farley, naked in bed with another woman.

I cried the whole night through. But I told myself that the heart beating in his chest belonged to the man I loved. As long as he was alive, I could swallow any humiliation and go on loving him.

Now the doctor was telling me the heart wasn't his at all. The absurdity of it swallowed me whole, and everything inside me shattered.

I went straight up to the top floor of the Farley building with the divorce papers. The door to the CEO's office stood ajar, and from inside came the endless sounds of two bodies tangled together.

I drew a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Elliot instantly, reflexively, pulled the woman beneath him into his arms, then turned and roared at me,

“What are you doing here? Get out!”

The old me would have dropped to my knees and begged him to send that woman away, sobbing, pleading with him not to leave me.

But today, I only looked at the jagged scar over his heart, and something in my mind drifted.

Then I held out the divorce papers.

“Sign them.”

Four years ago, my fiancé, Zachary Hughes, died in a car crash saving me. Before he passed, he told me he would donate his heart.

“Serena, think of it as me still alive, still loving you somewhere else.”

So I spent an entire year tracking down the “donee”, clung to Elliot Farley until I wore him down into marrying me, and then spent three years fawning over him like a dog.

Since that's the case, I should leave too.

……

Elliot came down off the sofa, pulling his pants on without any hurry, and only then glanced at the paper in my hand.

“Divorce papers?” He sneered. “Serena Quinn, what game are you playing this time?”

Before I could say anything, the woman on the sofa came over wearing his shirt, melting boneless against his chest, and looked me up and down with contempt.

“Dressed like some old nun. No wonder Mr. Farley got sick of you. In bed you're probably no different from a dead fish, right?”

She had a sweet, seductive face, and the teardrop mole below her right eye looked so much like Vivien Galloway, Elliot's one great love.

No wonder a man who was always so careful had, for once in his life, let himself be photographed like that with her, and even brought her into his office.

But Elliot's brows knit, and he flung her off.

“Shut up. Since when do you get to speak here?”

The woman was stunned. “Mr. Farley……”

“Go to my secretary, take a million, and disappear.”

That familiar cruelty rose in his eyes. The woman shuddered all over and, forgetting even to change her clothes, bolted out.

Only then did Elliot pull the divorce papers from my hand, and without so much as a glance, tore them to shreds.

He looked back at me the way you'd look at a pet throwing a tantrum.

“Go on, what do you want this time? My patience isn't unlimited.”

My voice was low, but clear.

“Elliot Farley, I just want a divorce.”

Impatience flickered in his eyes. “I've told you, what I want is an obedient little bird in a cage. Don't go dreaming about things that aren't yours.”

“I'm not——”

He cut me off with a cold laugh, pulled a cigarette from the drawer, and lit it.

“Talk tough all you want. Let's see how long you can keep defying me.”

He'd had heart surgery; his body was fragile. Smoking was out of the question, and I even kept strict control over his three meals a day.

But today, whether he was tangled up with another woman or blowing smoke right in front of me, none of it moved me.

Before, I'd done all of it so the heart of the man I loved could stay with me a little longer.

Now, none of it mattered.

On the way home, rain came down in torrents.

The air in the car was heavy, and neither of us said a word.

Halfway there, Elliot suddenly turned his head. “I know you're jealous that I slept with another woman. Five days from now, I'll throw you a makeup party for our third anniversary.”

I froze. “There's no need……”

The phone at his waist buzzed. He answered, and a frantic voice came through. “Mr. Farley, Miss Galloway's husband beat her, and threw her out of the house!”

Elliot slammed on the brakes.

Caught off guard, I was nearly choked by the seatbelt. Before I could recover, his voice came in my ear, hard and final. “Get out.”

I stared at him, disbelieving. “It's pouring out there!”

The next second, he simply threw the door open and shoved me out.

I stumbled and fell to the ground, and he hit the gas and sped off.

The car had knocked me down. The downpour soaked me through in an instant, and I was so cold my bones were shaking.

The place was remote and desolate, and I walked for half an hour before I flagged down a car.

By the time I climbed in, I'd been frozen numb all over.

In my daze, my love's worried face swam before my eyes, and the tears I'd held back so long finally slid free.

I was born in the slums, lost my mother at three, and grew up under my father's fists.

At ten, I met Zachary Hughes, an orphan. He helped me flee that animal of a father, protected me as I grew, and said that when I was grown, he'd marry me.

But on the very day we went to get our marriage license, he wrapped his body around mine in the crash. I lost the love of my whole life forever.

I'd heard that the person who received a heart might carry traces of the donor's feelings.

To be a little closer to that heart, I fought through every hardship to get near Elliot Farley.

Back then, his one great love, Vivien Galloway, had married someone else, and he drank himself sick and raced cars day and night, until the accident that gave him a new heart.

I chased him shamelessly, and finally, under his parents' pressure to marry, he gave an impatient nod.

But he warned me, “You'll want for nothing, luxury cars, jewelry. But the only one I love is Vivien.”

I agreed without a second thought.

Over these years, when his heart condition flared, I drove through the night, over a thousand miles, to get his medicine, and stayed up sleepless to brew it and feed it to him.

When he made enemies, I went alone to face them down, kneeling a whole night to smooth things over for him.

At his important business dinners, I stood beside him for four hours in shoes that didn't fit, my heels rubbed raw and bloody, and I closed billions in deals for him.

I thought that if I gave everything to guard that heart, one day I could finally thaw him.

And now, I wiped the rain from my face and picked up my phone to call a friend who worked at an airline.

“Book me a ticket to Los Angeles, five days from now.”