Chapter 2

Through the laughter, someone stepped out from behind the screen.

He wore a perfectly tailored suit, the cufflinks at his wrists catching the light with every small movement. He was beautiful, but his eyes were cold as frost, his lips pressed into a thin line, his features sharp and sculpted like something out of a painting.

Gregory Evans.

Behind him followed the "dead" man from the floor, brushing dust off his jacket and shooting me a wink.

A setup. Another one of their little stunts.

"HAHAHA! Gregory, you see that? Cynthia's so head-over-heels for you she'd walk into prison without blinking!"

Patrick clapped Gregory hard on the shoulder. "Just give her the damn donation form already! With a brain this lovesick, forget a heart—you could ask for her head and she'd hand it over with a smile!"

I stood there, hair plastered to my face, slippers full of slush, toes numb from the cold. But my face gave nothing away. Not a flicker.

Gregory walked up to me. He had a head on me, looking down with those dark, unreadable eyes.

He took a file from his assistant and held it out to me. "Since you're willing to go to prison for me, how about this?"

Brown paper envelope. Crisp, heavy stock.

I flipped open the first page.

VOLUNTARY HEART DONATION AGREEMENT.

Page after page of fine print, all boiling down to one thing: I'd have my heart removed in surgery and given to someone else.

I looked up, straight into his eyes.

"Nancy has heart disease," he said flatly, no emotion in his voice. "You're the only match in the entire city. Don't worry—you won't die. I've had an artificial heart custom-made for you overseas. It'll keep you functioning."

He paused. Something flickered in those cold eyes—brief, barely there.

"Cynthia, if you're willing to give your heart to Nancy—"

He leaned in, lowering his head close to my ear, his voice dropping to a whisper, warm breath brushing my skin.

"I'll marry you."

The room went silent. Everyone was waiting for my reaction, like they were watching the climax of a show.

I knew he loved Nancy. Everyone knew.

He'd loved her for over a decade. Grew up with her, made her laugh, and then she chose another man and left the country before he even got the chance to confess. He waited in silence for seven years. When she got dumped, when she got sick, he flew over the second he heard and brought her back, using every resource he had to find her a matching heart.

Now, to keep Nancy alive, he was willing to marry a woman he didn't love.

Pathetic. And pitiful.

I looked down at the donation agreement. The signature line sat empty.

Then I lifted my head and smiled.

"Sure. I'll do it."

Light and easy.

Someone in the room sucked in a sharp breath.

Gregory's pupils contracted. "You… really mean it?"

He'd probably prepared a whole speech. Had contingencies for if I refused, leverage to use against me. But he never expected me to say yes that fast.

I kept smiling, my voice soft. "Whatever you ask of me—I'll do it."

Giving my heart to the woman he truly loved.

That was my hundredth task for him.

Once it was done, I could go home. I could see Grayson again.

Gregory's throat bobbed. He looked at me, drenched and shivering, pale from the cold—and something in those frozen eyes seemed to crack.

I picked up the pen and signed my name on the line. Neat strokes. Steady hand.

He stared for a long time. Long enough that someone nearby started clearing their throat. When he finally snapped out of it, his voice came out rough. "The surgery is scheduled for two weeks from now. I'll make sure everything's arranged. It won't be too hard on you."

I nodded, still smiling.

But inside, I'd never felt lighter.

Two weeks. And I'd be gone.

Fine.