Who Dies In Chapter 486 Of Dead At Heart?

Ariel Walker marries Jayson Larkin to save her adoptive brother. For three years, their marriage is kept a loveless, passionless secret. On the day she's diagnosed with a terminal illness, her husband sets off fireworks with his mistress to celebrate. When her adoptive brother is released from prison, he announces that the woman in his arms is the love of his life! Ariel decides to stop waiting when she sees the usually cold, stoic men boldly declare their love for other women. She gets a divorce, quits her job, and severs ties with her family… She picks up the pieces of her dream and goes from being a scorned housewife to a technological expert! One day, her secret identity and terminal illness are exposed. Her unruly adoptive brother comes to her with red-rimmed eyes. "Ari, can you call me your brother again?" The usually cold, ruthless Jasyon goes insane. "I'll give you my life to make up for what I've done, honey! Don't leave me…" Their love is too little, too late. Ariel has long since stopped caring…

When the nurse pulled the IV needle out of the back of my hand, her gaze was filled with pity. “Mr. Young, the heart meant for your transplant was transferred at the last minute. It was sent to the VIP ward on the seventh floor. It’s a shame, but all your pre-operation prep has gone to waste.” Marcus Stewart was warded on the seventh floor. He was the frail young man my sister brought home. Ten minutes ago, Marcus suddenly had terrible chest pain. My usually strong mother burst into tears. My stoic father slammed the table in front of every expert in the hospital, then decided to give Marcus the heart I had been waiting three years for. It was supposed to save my life. I hurried to the end of the corridor, but the green operating light had already come on. Clutching the twisting pain in my chest, I leaned against the ice-cold wall and slid to the floor. There was no need to wait anymore. My heart failure was terminal. The doctor said I would not last the next few days. The mechanical voice sounded in my head. [Master, your vital signs are rapidly deteriorating. If you terminate this body and leave this world now, you still have a chance at a new life. Would you like to proceed?] I looked at the faint grey hue of death tinging my fingertips. “...Yes.”

A boy I supported and raised called me one day, his voice bubbling with excitement. He told me he'd finally found his biological parents. It turned out he was the long-lost heir of the prestigious Carter family, one of the ten most influential families in Kingsford. I was genuinely happy for him. After everything he'd been through, he'd finally found his family. I prepared countless gifts, looking forward to celebrating his homecoming with him. But the celebration never came. Instead, he vanished without a trace. I went to the Carter estate myself, only for the butler to frown in confusion. "A long-lost heir? Mr. and Mrs. Carter have only ever had one son." My heart sank. I hired people to investigate. In the end, what awaited me was an unidentified corpse in the Carter family's private hospital. The boy I had watched grow up would never smile and call me Ed again. Instead, he lay motionless inside a morgue freezer. The so-called homecoming had never been about bringing their son home. He simply was a compatible heart donor for their real son. My sweet, well-behaved Owen... The family he longed for and the future he dreamed of had both led him straight to his death. Just then, an invitation to the Carter heir's birthday gala arrived in my hands. Good. The Carter family, was it? I would soon find out whether they could survive making an enemy of the Blackwell family, the most powerful family in Kingsford.

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.

When my mother-in-law has a heart attack, my husband, who's a heart surgeon, is busy preparing food for his first love's cat. I call him and urge him to return to save my mother-in-law. He says icily, "What is wrong with you, Esther? How dare you curse my mother just to make me head home!" After that, he hangs up. My mother-in-law dies in surgery, yet he's busy watching a concert with his first love. When he returns the following day to see me holding an urn, he's so angry that he throws the bag he's holding at me. "Look at how Lexie was considerate enough to buy clothes for my mother. All you know how to do is get Mom to pull these dumb acts with you!" I sneer. His mother is already dead—what use are those clothes?

It was on our wedding night when my husband stole my heartblood to save his childhood sweetheart. His lips were on my forehead as his dagger carved my chest open. "Good girl. This is the last time, I promise," he breathed bewitchingly, his scalding tears dripping on my skin. "Once she's better, let's consummate our marriage." That was what he said, but I had heard it countless times before. In my despair, I used my last ounce of strength to tug on his sleeve. He urgently drained my blood to save another woman, not even looking my way as he did. What he didn't know was that it was my last drop of heartblood. And I was going to die.