Chapter 2

For three years, I was the joke of Kensington's elite circles. The man who once ruled the Becker family with an iron fist had somehow turned into a hopeless fool in love.

I worshipped Eloise like a queen and indulged every material demand she made without question.

With the ten-thousand-dollar monthly allowance I gave her, Eloise lived extravagantly. She bought designer brands, threw lavish parties, and spent money as if it grew on trees.

To flaunt her individuality and the freedom she was always so proud of, she even openly paraded around with Micah Campbell, a male escort she'd picked up at a bar. The two of them appeared together everywhere, deliberately testing the limits of my patience.

Whenever new paparazzi shots of their intimate moments hit the internet, the social elite mocked me behind my back, saying I was so desperately in love that I'd willingly reduced myself to dirt beneath her feet.

What none of them knew was that I had only ever demanded one thing from Eloise, and it was the one line she could never cross—her health.

I hired one of the world's most elite private medical teams at an astronomical price and required her to undergo a comprehensive physical examination every single week.

I strictly monitored her diet, employing professional chefs to prepare scientifically balanced meals tailored specifically to her needs.

Smoking was absolutely forbidden, and hard liquor was completely prohibited as well.

However, to Eloise and Micah, all of my efforts were just a joke they laughed about together.

"El, Mr. Becker is seriously obsessed with you," Micah would tease while stretched out in her arms. "The man wants to control how much water you drink. That's a terrifying level of possessiveness."

Eloise would respond with a contemptuous laugh.

"He's just a crazy man desperate for affection. He thinks he can tie me down with this nonsense. Too bad for him. I'll never give him what he wants."

What she never knew was that every time the medical team placed her examination report on my desk, I would immediately turn to the cardiac indicators.

Whenever those numbers came back flawless, I would finally breathe a sigh of relief.

In this entire world, there was only one person I truly cared about—my sister, Nina Becker.

Nina and I weren't related by blood. We were both orphans adopted by the Becker family.

The outside world thought we had risen to the top in one fell swoop. What they didn't know was that we had actually fallen straight into a real hell.

Our adoptive father, Flynn Becker, was a monster. In public, he was a respected philanthropist and a model gentleman. Behind closed doors, he was a violent sadist.

No one knew how many adopted children like us had disappeared forever beneath that mansion.

No one knew how many innocent lives had been buried in the darkness of his basement.

Throughout those endless years of living in hell, it was Nina who protected me again and again. The frail little Nina would throw herself in front of me, shielding me from Flynn's barbed whip and heavy iron rod.

"Don't worry, Drake. It doesn't hurt at all..."

Even when her face was deathly pale from the beatings, she would still cover my eyes with her tiny hands and draw me close in that dark, freezing basement.

The only way we made it through was by holding each other for warmth.

Nina was the only light I ever had. She was the only reason I kept fighting through that filthy world, and she was the only person I had ever truly loved.

I bided my time, enduring in silence, until my moment finally came. I sent Flynn to hell with my own hands and took complete control of the Becker family.

I thought our suffering was finally over.

I thought the light had finally reached us.

Instead, years of severe physical abuse and relentless trauma had destroyed Nina's heart.

The doctors told me that without a heart transplant, she would never live to see her 22nd birthday.

I poured the Becker family's vast fortune into a worldwide search for a compatible donor.

However, Nina's blood type was extraordinarily rare, and her antibody profile was exceptionally complex.

Match after match failed.

Then, three years ago, in that underground boxing arena, I saw Eloise Kane's medical report.

I had found that one-in-a-hundred-million chance. She was a perfect match.

From that moment on, Eloise ceased to be a person in my eyes.

She became a living organ incubator.

All the indulgence I showed her was only to nurture the heart that would one day belong to Nina.