Chapter 4

Wyatt's POV

I felt my heart skip a beat. "What do you mean? Why can't we go ahead with the surgery?"

Even though I'd been on the best medication available, heart attacks were always life-threatening. Just during the time I'd been waiting for surgery, I'd had no fewer than three attacks. The worst one nearly killed me.

I was rushed into the emergency room for 12 full hours and only pulled through by sheer will to live. I couldn't afford to wait any longer.

The doctor looked troubled. "The heart you were matched with has just been reassigned."

I clutched my chest tightly. "Reassigned? To whom? Did he pay you more? Whatever he paid, I'll double it!"

The doctor didn't dare respond. Instead, he pulled on his mask and tried to make a run for it.

I scrambled off the operating table and chased after him, on the verge of breaking down. "You know my condition! I can't wait any longer! How could you just reassign it like that? How is this any different from downright murder?"

My shouts quickly drew a crowd. I roared, "Who exactly took the heart? Can rich people just buy other people's lives now?"

The onlookers were outraged, and the culprit was soon identified.

I charged over without a second thought, but the moment I saw who it was, my blood ran cold. It was Chelsea. She was standing firm in front of the operating room, blocking anyone from entering.

Patrick, who was crying not too far off, spotted me and immediately grabbed my arm. "Wyatt? Are you the one saying that my mom stole your heart?"

He dropped to his knees right in front of me. "I was wrong to take your things before. I'm sorry. I apologize. Whatever you have against me, take it out on me. Please just spare my mom, okay?"

Chelsea's expression hardened instantly. "Wyatt, just because your mother is no longer around, you're making sure Pat loses his mother too? How could you be so cruel?"

My nails dug deep into my palms, and I bit down so hard I nearly drew blood. "Chelsea, his mother has cancer. A heart transplant won't cure her at all. Patrick is deliberately—"

Before I could finish, Patrick suddenly began groveling. "Wyatt, I'll return everything I ever took from you, and I won't ever bother Chels and Callie anymore. I'm begging you! How much money do you want? I'll pay you for this, okay?"

I felt chilled to the bone. I was so angry that I could barely speak. "I don't want your money! I want the heart! Give me back the heart!"

"That's enough!" Chelsea yelled, exploding with rage as she yanked me back. "You'd fake being sick just to hurt Pat's mother? And you would even stir up trouble by playing on people's sympathy? You've really gone too far this time, Wyatt!"

She called security and had them drag me out.

I struggled with everything I had, but I failed to break free. My heart pounded harder and harder, my chest burning so badly that it felt like it was about to explode.

By the time I was dumped at the hospital entrance, the suffocating grip of death had almost swallowed me whole. I reached out in agony, begging for help, but the bystanders simply spat at me.

"We almost fell for your act! And you're still pretending now?"

My arm fell limply. In my final moments of consciousness, all I hoped for was to never see Chelsea again—not in my next life, not ever.

…

Third-Person POV

Meanwhile, after Patrick's mother's surgery was done, Chelsea went straight into the wedding with Patrick without missing a beat.

But when the time came to exchange rings, her mind was filled with images of Wyatt. He had looked so haggard that day at the hospital, and she couldn't quite shake off the uneasiness within her.

"I'm sorry, Pat. Let's end the ceremony here. Your mother is pretty disoriented now and probably won't suspect anything."

With that, she pulled off her veil and called her assistant, Riley Drakins. "Look up Wyatt's medical records."

Ten minutes later, Riley called back, her voice somewhat uneasy. "Ms. Fischer, the records show that Mr. Hammond has acute cardiomyopathy. His heart transplant surgery was supposed to be a week ago…"