Chapter 1

On my eighteenth birthday, the Valerius crime family found me, claiming I was their long-lost daughter.

They booked out an entire hospital, flying in top doctors from around the globe, all just to find a match for me and Caleb, their son, who had a heart condition.

When the report flashed "perfect match," my so-called mother, Eleanor, hugged me, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Serena, this is wonderful! Your brother is saved!"

But the night before the surgery, she brought me a bowl of sleeping draught, her eyes chilling as she said:

"Drink this. We'll announce you died during surgery, an unfortunate accident. You're just a country girl, unfit for the Valerius name. Your heart is the only thing that gives you value, the only way you can save your brother."

I looked at the triumphant smirk on the fake heiress's face behind her and calmly drank the soup.

Mom, you didn't know.

My heart was already failing too. Doctors said I wouldn't live three months.

I watched the triumphant smirk on the fake heiress's face behind her and calmly drank the soup.

The soup was warm, carrying a medicinal taste, a flavor I utterly loathed.

But I didn't let it show. Instead, I offered her a smile.

"Thank you, Mom."

She collected the bowl with satisfaction, and as she turned, the coldness and disdain in her eyes were no longer bothering to hide.

"That's more like it."

Behind her, the fake heiress, Serena Valerius – the girl who'd lived my life for eighteen years – giggled, clinging to Eleanor's arm.

"Mom, I told you Maya was the most understanding. She'd do anything for her brother."

The mother and daughter exchanged smug smiles, as if performing a play just for me.

All I could do was offer a fake smile in return.

After they left, I lay on the sterile white hospital bed, feeling the subtle changes in my body.

I dared not sleep.

Because I was still waiting.

Waiting for my so-called father, Arthur Valerius, the head of the Valerius Corporation, to come for the final confirmation.

Sure enough, half an hour later, the door to my room pushed open.

Arthur Valerius strode in, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, his expression utterly cold.

It was as if he wasn't visiting his daughter, but inspecting a newly acquired item.

Beside him walked Dr. Wyatt, the world's leading cardiac specialist.

"Is she asleep?"

Dr. Wyatt checked my pupils and pulse, then nodded.

"Mr. Valerius, rest assured. The sedative dosage was precise. She'll sleep soundly until the surgery begins, without any pain."

"Good."

Arthur Valerius's voice held no ripple of emotion.

"Remember, Dr. Wyatt, the surgery must be successful. My son's life is more important than anything."

Dr. Wyatt nodded, respectfully responding.

"The compatibility of this heart is truly perfect, a gift from God. Your son will recover quickly after the operation."

I almost laughed out loud.

My dear father, you went to great lengths to drag me back from that remote village, not for reconciliation, but because your only son needed a compatible heart.

And I, I was just the most compatible "item" you found.

To prevent me from resisting, you lied, telling me it was just for tissue typing, a simple blood test.

When the report came out, my biological mother, Eleanor, held me, weeping uncontrollably.

But what she whispered was, "Caleb is saved."

From start to finish, no one ever asked me if I was willing.

In their eyes, it seemed completely irrelevant.

My life was clearly worth less than a suitable heart.

Arthur Valerius stood for a while longer, seemingly ensuring I wouldn't suddenly wake up.

Then, he left without a backward glance.

The moment the door closed, I opened my eyes.

In the darkness, tears streamed down my face involuntarily.

Mom, what you gave me was indeed a sleeping draught.

But what you didn't know was that before you brought it, I had already poured another bottle of colorless, odorless agent into my water glass.

It was a powerful myocardial cell activator.

It would make my heart exhibit unprecedented vitality and strength for a short period.

But this vitality, which overtaxed my life, came at a price.

After taking it, I could only sustain for a maximum of twelve hours.

After twelve hours, it would completely fail and necrotize at the fastest possible rate.

And that bowl of sleeping draught was the calculated prelude I needed to set the stage for this grand performance.

You want my heart?

Fine. I'll give it to you.

Not only will I give it, but I will personally deliver it into my "precious" brother's chest.

I want you to watch with your own eyes as hope, just ignited, crumbles into ashes.