Take My Heart Not My Son Novels & Stories

"Mr. Gardner, should we remove this woman? She seems mentally unstable and keeps insisting she's your wife." There was another pause on Matthew's end, and when he finally spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. "My wife is Meghan Landry. She is currently tending to our son, Taylor. I… don't have a daughter." The crowd seemed relieved, their gazes turning even more contemptuous toward Danielle. Meghan let out a cold laugh and hurled the bag of RH-negative blood onto the floor in front of Danielle. "That illegitimate child of yours isn't worthy of this blood."

"Don't come closer! You're lying. It wasn't like that! It's not like that! Charlotte must be waiting for me at home. I'm going home to see her right now!" He stumbled out. Ruby tried to stop him, but she didn't succeed. She turned to me, intending to beg me once again so that I'd consent to donate Charlotte's heart to her son. I didn't even look at her as I grabbed the metal chair beside me and threw it at her. She'd killed my daughter. How dare she strip Charlotte of her organs? Screaming, Ruby dodged the chair. The other medical personnel grabbed me, holding me back. In my weakened state, I couldn't break free of them, so Ruby ran out of the room, clutching her head.

Mr Robert said as he walked out with his daughters. As Mr. Robert and his children began to walk away, Mitchell paused for a moment in Angela's room, her gaze fixed on the heartwarming scene that just unfolded before her. She watched as Angela clung tightly to her father's hand, her face beaming with happiness. The love and connection between them were evident, and Mitchell couldn't help but feel a profound admiration for the bond they shared.

You sent him into an operating room and carved his heart out of his chest. Every word struck like a thunderclap. No one even dared to breathe. "Reynold Carter. Wendy Lowe." My voice turned ice-cold. "When you look at the son standing alive and healthy on this stage, don't you ever dream of the boy you murdered with your own hands? Does he ever ask why you killed him?"

Her voice was sharp. "Yes!" I didn't hesitate to answer because there was no reason to hide the truth anymore. "Who gave you the right to take my son? To rip out his heart as if it was yours to take?" My voice trembled, eyes stinging with unshed tears. I felt so heartbroken. Even now, after all this time, I couldn't face what she had done without feeling like I was being torn apart inside. My teeth clenched so tightly I thought they might crack.

She tried to genuinely sound sympathetic. He smiled. "You're wrong baby girl." He placed one hand on her thigh. "I don't have a heart. I ripped my heart out of my chest and buried it when I heard my mum got another husband, settled with him in Florida, gave birth to twins, and adopted two children. The one person I was secretly waiting for didn't care about my existence, so I stopped caring. I don't care whether your friend is broken to pieces or beaten up to the point of blindness."

“How can you be heartless?” I chuckled as I took a step forward and pressed my index finger over his erratically beating heart. “I wonder what happened to my heart, Jackson. Oh wait, you should know exactly what because you are the one who did the honors of ripping it out of my chest and trampling over it with those ridiculously expensive shoes of yours.” “But my mother did nothing,” Jackson said. “She doesn’t deserve this.” “Exactly. She did nothing when her son used and threw the woman who she used to call ‘her own daughter’.” I said, air quoting. “So she doesn’t deserve for me to reveal your truth to my daughter just for her wish to come true.” . . . _____________

Three months into our marriage, I was cooking dinner when I noticed that every plate, bowl, and cup in the house was smaller than standard dinnerware. That slight difference mattered. Every time I lifted a bowl or wrapped my hand around a cup, I had to adjust my grip to the tighter curve. I held up two bowls of different sizes and asked Damian Moretti why. He said they had simply been custom-made for the Family. That night, a torrential downpour left me stranded at the station after I finished handling Family business. Across the street, inside a restaurant, Damian held a bite of steak to the lips of the young woman opposite him, then gently wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth. The

She pressed it lightly this time like She was testing. listening. Feeling. She Could sense it now. Not just the sound, but the truth behind it. "This this is not mine" she whispered. Tears slipped down her face quietly. Her voice broke. "They took it" "They actually took it." Her fingers curled into her shirt. Tighter this time. Memories began to flash through her mind. The hospital bed. The lights above her. The promise. That everything would be okay. Her mother's weak smile. Her mothers promise

I twisted that weapon in my hands and in a flash of inspiration, instead of using it to push her blade away, I threw it right at her heart. You will not take my son. You cannot take my husband. You will not take our wolves. Maya gasped and stumbled and I screamed for my baby, helpless in her arms as she tripped backwards, desperate to get away from me, but frozen, our eyes locked as she began to shake.