I Gave Him My Heart, and He Took My Fiancé’s Life

At first, there was emptiness. I couldn’t feel the hospital bed beneath me. I couldn’t sense the weight of my arms or legs. Even the burning pain that should have filled my lungs—lungs that had swallowed seawater instead of air—was absent. My body lay motionless, hollow, as if abandoned. Yet my mind floated somewhere in between, neither fully asleep nor awake, drifting in a fog of half-awareness. That was when voices seeped through the darkness. “Sir, we can’t take any more blood.” The doctor’s voice trembled with urgency. “She nearly drowned. Her lungs were flooded. Her body is already failing. If we continue, she won’t survive—especially when she’s carrying your child.” Pregnant? The word echoed violently in my head, snapping something awake inside me. No. That couldn’t be right. I had never suspected it—not once. My body had always been unpredictable, my cycle unreliable. And Dominic and I were careful. Always. Protection. Precautions. I never allowed myself to hope for a child because hope required certainty—and we didn’t even have marriage. Then I heard him. Dominic’s voice sliced through the room, cold and merciless. “I don’t care if she’s pregnant,” he said flatly. “And if she dies, then she dies. What does it matter?” His next words were even crueler. “Her blood matches Helena’s. Helena needs it more. If I have to choose, I’ll pick Helena every time. Seraphina is nothing. She isn’t even my wife. Proceed.” The machines hummed louder, blending into an unbearable roar. My thoughts shattered. I wanted to scream, to move, to beg them to stop—but my body refused to obey. The darkness rushed back in, swallowing everything whole. When I surfaced again, pain greeted me like a tidal wave. My veins felt hollow, my muscles screamed, and my entire body throbbed as though life itself had been siphoned out of me. The words I’d heard before tangled with my thoughts. Had it really happened? Or was it just a nightmare born from trauma? A nurse noticed my eyes flutter open and approached with a tight, sympathetic smile. “Miss Seraphina, please don’t move. You lost a significant amount of blood. You were rescued after drowning and brought here unconscious. You need rest.” My throat burned as I swallowed. “I… was I pregnant?” The question barely made it past my lips. She paused, surprise flickering across her face before her expression softened. “There’s no indication of that in your records.” But I knew. I had heard them. I felt it—in the aching emptiness deep inside me. My chest tightened, my womb felt unbearably hollow. Tears slid silently down my temples. “What about… my husband?” The word tasted bitter even as I said it. Dominic wasn’t my husband. Just the man I had loved. The man who carried Adrian’s heart. The man I had trusted with everything. “Did anyone come to see me?” I asked. The nurse hesitated before shaking her head. “No. You’ve been unconscious for three days. No visitors.” I forced my lips into a fragile smile. “Please… I want to be alone.” Once she left, the silence crushed me. That was when the real pain settled in—not the physical agony, but the kind that gnawed relentlessly at the soul. I had mistaken familiarity for love. I had believed five years of devotion meant commitment. I had convinced myself that his care was genuine. But to him, I had never been love. I was convenience. I was pity. I was a substitute. And I was foolish enough to mistake borrowed warmth for permanence. My thoughts drifted back to Adrian. Adrian—reckless, fearless, alive in every sense of the word. He had never made me doubt my worth. With him, love was certain. Honest. Fierce. If he were alive, he would never have abandoned me in a hospital bed. He would have fought the world for me. And now his heart beat inside the man who destroyed me. The irony was unbearable. I waited all day, staring at the door, hoping Dominic would walk in. He never did. By nightfall, something inside me finally broke. Ignoring the pain tearing through my body, I forced myself out of bed, the IV tugging sharply at my arm. The hallway was dim, eerily quiet. That was when I heard it—his voice. I froze in place. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to stay here?” Helena murmured softly. “What about Seraphina? You took so much of her blood for me.” Dominic laughed under his breath. “She’ll survive. And even if she doesn’t—so what? She’s insignificant.” His voice hardened. “The baby’s gone anyway. She’ll never find out.” The world tilted. Baby. Gone. Never know. He continued without mercy. “I never loved her. I pitied her.” His voice faltered briefly before turning sharp again. “Adrian died because of me. I was drunk. I hit his car. I killed him. His family gave me his heart out of sympathy, never knowing the truth. When you left me, I was shattered. So I used her. She was nothing more than a replacement. But now you’re back—and divorced—let’s finally get married.” Helena gasped. “Dominic… yes. I would love to. I always regretted leaving you.” My stomach churned violently. I pressed myself against the wall, barely holding myself upright. Every truth he revealed ripped something out of me. Dominic—the man I had loved for five years—was the reason Adrian was dead. All the nights I mourned, all the tears I shed, I never imagined the monster lay beside me. He had killed Adrian. Then he took his heart. Then he took my life, piece by piece. The man who carried Adrian’s heart was the very one who destroyed him. My breath came out in broken gasps. Grief tangled with rage until I couldn’t separate them anymore. I staggered away blindly, desperate to escape. My gaze landed on a phone resting on a nearby desk. With shaking hands, I grabbed it. There was only one number I had memorized. One final lifeline. When the call connected, my voice cracked completely. “Brother… it’s me. Seraphina.” There was silence. Then a sharp breath. “Do you still care about me?” I whispered through tears. “If you do… please help me.” My hands clenched the receiver. “Help me disappear. Help me fake my death.”

“Do you still care about me?” Hot tears spilled freely, splashing onto the phone as I pressed it tightly against my ear. My voice fractured under the weight of everything I was holding back. “If you do… please. I’m begging you. Help me disappear. Help me fake my death.” Nothing answered me at first. The silence stretched unbearably long, sharp enough to cut. Then a harsh laugh broke through, bitter and unforgiving. “Now?” my brother snapped. “You’re asking for my help now? After all this time? After you turned your back on us? After you chose him over your own family?” His anger crackled through the line. “You betrayed us. You betrayed Adrian. All for that man. And now you expect me to save you?” My chest rose and fell erratically. “I know,” I sobbed. “I know I was wrong. I see it now—too late. But please, you have to hear this.” My words poured out in pieces, broken and desperate. “He’s the reason Adrian died. He killed him… just so he could have his heart.” My breath hitched painfully. “And our baby—he took that too. I was blind. I should’ve never loved anyone after Adrian. Never.” My fingers cramped as I clenched the receiver harder. “Please,” I whispered. “Come get me. I’ll do anything you ask. I swear. Anything.” The line went quiet again. Then, at last, I heard him exhale. “So you finally woke up.” His voice was calmer now, but heavy. “Fine. I’ll come for you in five days. Fix everything on your end. After that, you’re done with him—completely. No turning back. Do you understand?” My legs nearly gave out as relief collided painfully with dread. “Yes,” I breathed. “I understand. Yes.” The phone slipped from my hand. My body trembled uncontrollably as the room tilted and darkened around me. I couldn’t stay upright anymore. Everything faded—and I passed out. When I regained consciousness, I was pressed against Dominic’s chest. His arms steadied me as he gently shook my shoulders. “Seraphina? Why are you out here?” His voice sounded worried, tender. “You’re not well yet. You shouldn’t be walking around. Come on—if you collapse again—” That voice. The same one that once convinced me I was cherished. He carried me back to my room and carefully laid me on the bed, his touch soft enough to almost feel sincere. “Seraphina,” he murmured, brushing the damp strands of hair from my face. “I’m sorry. Truly. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should’ve been there when you woke up.” His apologies flowed smoothly. “Work overwhelmed me. The company needed my attention. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” The words sounded sweet—but they were hollow. I turned my face away, burying my tears before they could betray me. Playing ignorant was all I had left. Lowering my eyes, I whispered weakly, “It’s okay, Dominic. I’m sorry too… for causing trouble. For making you worry.” Inside, my heart screamed. I already knew the truth—his regret wasn’t meant for me. Helena’s name weighed heavier on his conscience than mine ever had. Still, I nodded obediently, pretending I was the same woman he thought he controlled. Because pretending hurt less than breaking apart in front of him. He fed me warm soup, one careful spoonful at a time, his gaze heavy with practiced remorse. Once, I would’ve believed him. Now, I knew every apology was just a performance meant to keep me quiet. Then the door flew open. “Sir Dominic!” the butler cried. “Something’s wrong with Miss Helena again. She’s vomiting badly. The doctor says you need to come at once!” The instant Helena’s name was spoken, Dominic stood up abruptly. In his haste, the bowl tipped from his hand. Scalding soup spilled across my arm. I screamed as pain ripped through my skin. He didn’t even turn around. Didn’t hesitate. And just like that—he was gone. I cradled my burned arm, shaking with both agony and fury. Through blurred vision, I treated the wound myself, pressing cold compresses against my skin while silent tears streamed down my face. That was it. I was done. The following morning, I signed my own discharge papers. Weak and sore, I dragged myself out of the hospital and went straight to the cemetery. Adrian’s grave. The moment I saw his name, my strength vanished. I collapsed before the stone, my fingers tracing each carved letter. “I’m sorry,” I whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked. “I loved the wrong man. I let myself be deceived. The man who carries your heart is the same one who destroyed you… and me.” My tears soaked into the soil as though I could somehow bring him back. Exhausted by grief, I drifted into a haze—and felt warmth surround me. In my dream, Adrian held me. His arms were solid, familiar. He pressed his lips to my hair and whispered softly, You’re not alone. When I woke, my face was wet with tears. Yet the echo of his embrace lingered, steadying my heart. I forced myself home, struggling to breathe properly, my chest tight with exhaustion. That was when I saw it. A massive billboard loomed above the city, lights blazing against the night sky. The headline was impossible to miss: “Second Chances Taste Sweeter: Dominic Blackwood to Marry Helena Moore.” The photo mocked me—Dominic smiling brightly, Helena glowing beside him. I stood frozen, my heart emptied of everything. So that was why he never married me. Why every promise faded into nothing. But I didn’t cry. There were no tears left to give. Love had burned itself out. Because in five days, I would be dead. And when I was gone—every single one of them would finally feel the weight of what they’d done.

The fever wrapped around me like iron restraints, scorching me from the inside. My body shook uncontrollably beneath the covers, sweat seeping through the thin sheets, clinging to my skin. But the heat wasn’t what tortured me the most. It was the dream. Adrian. He stood before me, smiling the way he always had—wide, playful, full of life. That familiar grin that made everything feel safe. We were back on the mountain trails, the air crisp, the sky endless. His fingers laced through mine as he pulled me forward, laughing. “Hurry up, Seraphina,” he teased. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” In the dream, I laughed too—light, unburdened, free in a way I hadn’t felt in years. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, warm and certain. His eyes held promises he never broke. When we get back down, let’s get married, he had said once, half-joking. But I knew he meant every word. Then the world shifted. His footing slipped. The ground gave way. Adrian fell, his hand reaching for mine, his voice torn away by the rushing wind. I screamed his name, over and over, until my throat burned raw. “Adrian! Adrian!” My own cry yanked me out of the dream. I shot upright, chest heaving, tears pouring down my face. But it wasn’t Adrian sitting beside me. It was Dominic. He sat in the chair near my bed, arms crossed, his expression dark and mocking. “So that’s how it is,” he sneered. “Even now, you’re still crying for him.” His lips twisted cruelly. “You shout his name like a grieving widow. I’m sitting right here, Seraphina, yet it’s always Adrian.” My heart lurched painfully. I wiped at my tears, shaking my head. “Dominic, I didn’t—” He didn’t let me finish. “This is exactly why marriage is off the table.” He rose to his feet, looming over me. “Why would I marry a woman who’s still obsessed with a dead man? Forget it. There’s no point.” The words struck hard, but he wasn’t done. “Helena will be staying here from now on,” he added coldly. “She needs care.” He paused, then delivered the blow. “She’s pregnant.” Everything inside me went numb. “What did you say?” “You heard me,” he replied flatly, his gaze unyielding. “You’ll prepare her meals. She needs to eat properly.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips, though they trembled violently. “I’m not your servant, Dominic.” His eyes darkened. “You are to me. You’re useless otherwise.” His voice turned sharp. “If you don’t like it, then leave.” Tears burned behind my eyes, but I forced them back. “So this is it? You’re with her now? You’re marrying her?” My voice cracked. “Then what was I to you, Dominic? What did I ever mean?” The slap came without warning. Pain exploded across my cheek as my head snapped to the side. “You dare ask me that?” he shouted. “When you can’t even let go of Adrian?” His voice thundered. “Don’t think I didn’t know—you went to his grave. You cried there after telling me you loved me. You’re a hypocrite!” Something inside me shattered completely. “You used me,” he sneered. “So what if I use you too? That’s all this ever was. Nothing more.” “I don’t want this,” I whispered, my voice shaking, barely audible. “I’m not asking,” he snapped. “I’m giving you an order.” At that moment, the door opened and Helena stepped inside. Her complexion was pale, her voice gentle. “Are you arguing because of me? I’m sorry, Dominic. I didn’t mean to cause trouble—” He immediately pulled her into his arms. “No, Helena. Don’t apologize.” His gaze flicked toward me. “She’ll cook for you. It’s time she repays everything she’s taken from me.” I didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. My cheek throbbed, my body shook, my heart felt like it was bleeding out. I lowered my head and walked into the kitchen. My hands trembled as I chopped vegetables, my vision swimming with tears. The knife slipped once, nearly slicing my skin, but I kept going. I just wanted it over with. Helena approached hesitantly. “Seraphina… let me help you.” I shook my head. “No. It’s fine. You don’t need to.” She lingered anyway, fidgeting. I turned back to the cutting board, but my grip—already weakened by fever—failed me. The knife slipped again. This time, it nicked Helena’s finger as she reached for the plate. She gasped as blood surfaced. Dominic rushed in instantly, fury blazing in his eyes. Without listening, his hand struck my face again—harder—sending me crashing against the counter. “You hurt her?” he bellowed. “Are you out of your mind?” “I didn’t mean to—she reached for—” My voice broke. Helena whispered weakly, “It’s not her fault, Dominic. Please—” But his rage drowned her out. He hit me again. And again. I lost count. Pain blurred into numbness. I could barely stand. “Apologize!” he barked. “No,” I rasped, blood coating my lips. “It wasn’t my fault—” His expression turned icy. Then he shoved me with brutal force. My body flew backward, slamming into the sliding doors that led to the pool. The water engulfed me instantly. Cold. Heavy. Suffocating. I thrashed, gasping, terror clawing through me. I couldn’t swim—not since the cruise. Water meant panic. Water meant death. I clawed at the surface, choking. “Dominic! Please—help me!” “Dominic!” Helena cried. “She’s drowning—do something!” But he didn’t move. He stood there, gripping Helena’s arm, his voice chillingly calm. “No. Let her drown. She brought this on herself.” Water flooded my lungs. My body convulsed. Through the blur, I saw Helena clutch his sleeve, shaking her head. “Please, Dominic… don’t let her die.” She looked concerned. Almost tearful. But when his attention shifted for just a second, I saw it. The smile. Small. Cold. Victorious. She wanted this. She wanted me gone. My strength faded completely as the water dragged me under, pulling me into darkness once more.

The fever hit me like a hammer after the pool. My body shook violently beneath the damp clothes clinging to my skin, chills sinking deep into my bones. Each cough tore at my throat as if shards of glass were lodged inside. My skin burned fiercely, yet I shivered uncontrollably. And then she appeared. Helena. Poised by my bedside, a basin and towel in hand, pretending the act of care came from a place of tenderness. Her voice dripped with feigned sweetness. “Shh… calm down, Seraphina. Rest now. You’ll be fine,” she cooed. I remembered Dominic’s warning clearly, his sharp tone slicing through my memory: “Don’t waste your time on her, Helena.” But she ignored him, playing the part of the compassionate angel while I lay frail and helpless. I forced my eyes shut, swallowing the tears, pretending her touch was genuine. But the moment Dominic left, her demeanor shifted. The mask fell. “You’re not his wife,” she hissed, close to my ear, the words cold and cutting. “You were never anything more than a bed warmer. That’s your entire value. Now that I’m here? It’s over for you. Understood?” I couldn’t answer. My throat was dry, my body shaking. She pressed a glass of water to my lips. “Drink.” I tried to refuse, weakly shaking my head, but she forced the liquid down until it mingled with bile in my stomach. Moments later, I bent forward, vomiting violently. Tears streaked my cheeks, burning my eyes. Helena stepped back, an ugly smirk curling her lips. “Pathetic,” she muttered. “Sick, weak, and useless. Why would Dominic ever care about someone like you when he has me?” And just like that, she left me trembling, fever blurring the edges of the room. Later, I heard Dominic’s cheerful voice outside—light, casual, as if the cruelty of the world wasn’t crushing me beneath it. “Come on, Helena. Let’s go enjoy our date.” They left together. I drifted into a fevered sleep with the sound of their laughter echoing in my ears, my body heavy with illness, my heart heavier still. When I awoke, the fever had broken. My body ached, but I could move without collapsing. The room was empty. No Dominic. No Helena. Not even a single maid in sight. I rang for assistance, and eventually a maid appeared—but she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her lips were pressed tight; her posture stiff. I asked where Dominic was. She only bowed her head and walked away. Confusion and dread clawed at me. I turned on the television, and the headline hit like lightning. “Second Chances: Dominic Blackwood to Wed Helena Moore at Sunset Today.” Images flashed on the screen—Dominic in his tailored suit, Helena radiant in her gown, smiling like the world owed them nothing. The anchor gushed, “A wedding of love reborn… destiny fulfilled…” My body went rigid. So that was it. Fine. They could have their perfect sunset wedding. But I wouldn’t leave empty-handed. I dragged my aching body to his office. Every shelf, every drawer, I searched. My eyes landed on the safe tucked in the corner. My hands trembled as I typed combination after combination. Nothing. Then I noticed the photo on his desk—Helena, smiling, her arm linked with his. Her birthday. I typed it in. Click. The lock opened. Inside were stacks of documents, bundles of cash, and a single flash drive. I knew. This was it. I plugged it into his laptop, holding my breath. Reports, witness statements, confidential police files. Not just an accident. Not just guilt. Proof. Dominic had killed Adrian—and covered it up. Tears blurred my vision as I gripped the flash drive like it was a lifeline. I called the police from his office phone, voice trembling. “I have evidence,” I whispered. “Adrian Cole’s death… it wasn’t an accident. I’m filing a case.” After that, I packed in a fury, stuffing my clothes, documents, and small savings into a suitcase. Every movement fueled by rage and sorrow. As I stepped outside, my brother waited by the car. Arms crossed, eyes sharp, softening only when they met mine. “You’re ready?” he asked. I nodded, tears brimming, voice shaking but firm. “Yes.” He opened the car door. “Then let’s go.” We drove through the city in silence. Lights streaked past as the sunset painted the horizon. At the airstrip, a private plane awaited. He guided me aboard, steadying my shaking hands. As the engines roared, the world shrinking beneath us, I pulled out my phone one last time. Dominic’s number still at the top. I took a deep breath, removed the SIM card, and tossed it into the wind. I was gone. And this time, there would be no return. --- Dominic’s POV I adjusted my cufflinks—the ones Helena had chosen. Today was supposed to mark a fresh start, a chance to bury the ghosts of my past. The door creaked. I turned, expecting a staff member. Instead, two uniformed officers stepped in, faces unreadable. “Mr. Blackwood,” one said, voice firm. “You are under arrest for the death of Adrian Cole.” I laughed, though my throat constricted. “What? That’s impossible. Everyone knows it was an accident.” The officer moved closer, holding a folder. “We have new evidence—a flash drive sent directly to us by Ms. Seraphina.” Her name hit me like a blow. “Seraphina? Where is she? Bring her here!” “She’s not present,” the officer replied, expression flat. I snatched my phone, dialing her number over and over. Rings echoed, unanswered. Then dead silence. The butler entered quietly, eyes wary. “Sir… she’s not picking up your calls.” Helena’s voice trembled behind me. “Dominic… what’s happening? Why are they saying this? Why—” “Shut up!” I barked, chest tightening, mind spinning. Evidence. Betrayal. Seraphina. Nothing added up. She wouldn’t dare. She couldn’t. Then the butler’s phone buzzed. He answered, face paling. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to me. “Sir… we just received a traffic incident report. Miss Seraphina… she was hit by a twelve-wheeler truck. She… is dead.”

Dominic’s POV “Sir…” The butler’s voice cracked like glass. His eyes couldn’t meet mine. “We just received a traffic incident report.” My chest tightened. Something in his tone made my blood run cold. He swallowed, trembling. “…Miss Seraphina was hit by a 12-wheeler truck. They say… she’s dead.” For a moment, the world turned silent. My jaw clenched, my breath stuck in my throat. Dead? Then I laughed. A hollow, broken sound. “A… truck? And you’re saying she’s dead?” My head snapped up, eyes blazing. I shook my head violently, as if I could shake the words away. “No. No, no, no. That woman should have nine lives! You hear me? Nine lives! She cannot be dead. That is impossible!” The butler’s lips trembled, but he said nothing. I became hysterical, my fists slamming against the dresser. “If this is her prank again—her pathetic little game to get my attention because I’m marrying Helena—then tell her to quit it!” My chest heaved. “Do you hear me? Quit it! I am not postponing this wedding. Not for her. Never for her!” Behind me, Helena gasped, her painted lips parting in horror. “What? Dead?” She clutched her chest, feigning panic. “Oh my God, Dominic, is this true? Is this… is this a bad omen? Is she… is she cursing us? On our wedding day?” I spun to her, my face twisted with denial. “No! Nothing. Let her. She’s not dead. She’s doing what she always does—trying to get my attention.” I let out a harsh laugh. “She’s done this before. She storms out, slams doors, shouts about leaving me forever… then comes back, crying that she has nowhere to go.” A memory burned through me—Seraphina’s tear-streaked face, standing outside in the rain years ago, suitcase in hand, whispering, “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice had been hoarse from crying, her fingers white from clutching the handle of that cheap, worn-out luggage. I remembered how she had stormed out of the house that night after we argued about Helena, saying she was tired of always being second place, tired of feeling like a shadow. She swore she would leave me for good. I watched from the window as she dragged the suitcase down the driveway, her thin frame trembling under the downpour. For hours she didn’t come back. I had half expected her to vanish completely, to disappear into the city and never return. But when midnight fell, the doorbell rang. And there she was—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her cheeks, shivering violently. The suitcase was abandoned on the porch, her knees buckling as she whispered, “I have nowhere else to go.” She collapsed against me, fists weakly hitting my chest before they clung to me instead. “Don’t abandon me,” she sobbed. “Even if you don’t love me… don’t leave me alone.” Yes. That was Seraphina. She always came back. She couldn’t leave me. She never could. Helena, still clutching her veil, pressed closer. Her voice shook, dripping with desperation. “Dominic, are you sure? Should we… maybe postpone the ceremony? What if—” I grabbed her wrist, forcing her gaze to mine. “No. We go on. This wedding will happen. You are mine, Helena. Nothing—nothing—will stop it.” She nodded weakly, though her eyes gleamed with a satisfaction she tried to hide. As she left to finish preparing, I snapped at my men. “Find her. Now. If Seraphina is faking her death, if she thinks she can humiliate me on my wedding day—punish her. Teach her what happens when she mocks me.” The butler hesitated, voice trembling. “But… sir…” “No!” I barked. My hands trembled, rage masking fear. “I will not accept it. She is not dead. This wedding will continue.” And then the police butt in again. “You’ll have to come with us. We have the warrant—” I spun to my butler, fury burning through me. “Settle it. Pay them. Now. No one—no one—ruins this wedding. Not Seraphina, not the police, not anyone.” The hall glittered with flowers and chandeliers, a stage built for victory. Guests whispered, smiling, as though nothing had touched us. I stood at the altar, my smile forced, my chest heavy. The priests waited. The music swelled. And then Helena walked toward me, glowing in white, every inch the perfect bride. But before her footsteps reached me, one of the butlers stumbled inside, pale, shaking. “Sir… forgive me…” His voice cracked. “…It was really her.” I froze. He held out a tablet, his hands trembling. The photo on the screen made my stomach drop. A body—crushed, mangled, unrecognizable, but clothed in the hospital gown Seraphina had worn. My throat closed. The butler’s whisper pierced me. “The detective wants to talk to you. They confirmed it’s Miss Seraphina.” For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart twisted painfully, a foreign ache stabbing my chest. And then I understood—it wasn’t my grief. No. It was Adrian’s heart inside me. Adrian, who had loved Seraphina more than his own life. Adrian, who would bleed forever for her. Tears spilled before I could stop them. But I gritted my teeth, forcing the ache down. “I don’t care,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Tell them… tell them it was her. And so be it.” And then—I smiled. I turned my eyes back to Helena, radiant as she reached the altar. She was the one. She had always been the one. If I kept saying it, maybe it would be true. The priest began his words. Guests leaned forward. Helena’s hand slipped into mine. My lips curved into the smile they expected. “Do you, Dominic Blackwood, take Helena—” The world blurred. Her face flickered. It wasn’t Helena before me—it was Seraphina. Pale, trembling, her eyes wet with betrayal. My chest convulsed. My mouth dried. “I…” The word stuck in my throat. Helena’s eyes widened. The room held its breath. And then I tore my hand from hers. I stepped back, stumbling. “No…” My voice broke, raw and hoarse. My gaze darted, searching for a ghost I could never find. “No. Seraphina…” Gasps rippled through the guests. Helena screamed, her voice sharp, hysterical. “Dominic! What are you doing?!” But I was already running. Away from the altar, away from the wedding, away from Helena’s cries. Only one name echoed in my chest, pounding against Adrian’s cursed heart. “Seraphina…”

Helena’s scream echoed through the hall, sharp and panicked, slicing through the murmurs of the wedding guests. Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Dominic! Dominic, wait for me! Don’t leave me!” She ran after him, her gown tangling around her legs, her jeweled heels clicking violently against the marble floor. But her steps were frantic, clumsy, driven more by fear than grace. People turned in their seats, some rising, phones already lifted, recording the chaos. Gasps followed her as she stumbled, her veil slipping, hair loosening from its perfect bun. Her voice carried, shrill and frantic. “Dominic, please! Don’t go! Tell me it’s not true—tell me it’s not her!” Click. Flash. The blinding light of cameras filled her vision, each shot capturing her unraveling. Guests whispered, some horrified, some entertained, their voices a cruel chorus. “What’s happening?” “Why is she running like that?” “Is it true—something about Seraphina?” “Who’s Seraphina? Wasn’t this supposed to be Dominic’s wedding day?” The whispers spread like wildfire, every word another lash against Helena’s pride. She tried to push forward, ignoring the laughter, the questions, the hundreds of eyes dissecting her humiliation. Her chest tightened, and her breaths grew shallow. The floor tilted, faces blurred, and the walls seemed to close in. Her knees buckled, her heel twisted violently, and she crashed to the marble with a sickening crack. The crowd gasped again, phones flashing as her gown pooled around her like a broken veil of silk. “Seraphina…” she whispered once, the name trembling from her lips like a curse and a prayer. Her heart thundered painfully, her breaths rasped, and then the weight of fear, shame, and exhaustion dragged her under. She collapsed completely, fainting amidst the chaos, her body sprawled on the cold floor—immortalized in the lenses of dozens of phones. But Dominic never saw her fall. He was already out the doors, running into the night, chasing the nightmare he refused to believe. His voice ripped through the chaos of sirens and flashing lights. “Seraphina! Where is she?! Let me see her!” The scene was chaos—a mangled body covered by a white sheet, blood smeared on the asphalt, the metallic tang filling the air. Dominic’s breath seized in his lungs as he stumbled forward. The police held him back. “Sir, please, you can’t go closer yet—” “Move!” he snarled, thrashing against their grip, his eyes wild, desperate. “I need to see her!” An officer stepped forward, his voice grim. “Mr. Blackwood… the victim’s identification confirms it. It’s Seraphina Reyes. We’re still waiting for DNA results, but the documents and belongings recovered—everything matches her.” Dominic’s face twisted, his jaw tight. “No. No, that’s not her. That can’t be her!” His voice broke into a near-hysterical shout. “Do you hear me? That’s not Seraphina! She can’t die like this. She—she doesn’t just disappear!” “Sir—” “Find her!” he roared, his body shaking with fury and fear. “Look again! Do you hear me? She’s not dead! She wouldn’t leave me like this!” But the sheet did not move. The stillness of the body beneath was an answer crueler than any words. For hours, Dominic refused to leave the site. He paced, cursed, shouted at the officers, clung to denial as though it could keep her alive. But then, as dawn crept pale across the horizon, the truth arrived. DNA confirmed. Seraphina Reyes. Dominic’s knees buckled. He fell, his palms smacking the wet pavement, his tears streaming without shame. A raw sound tore from his throat, half-scream, half-sob. His body shook violently, as though the world had ripped him apart. “Seraphina!” he cried, voice breaking. “Seraphina, come back! You can’t do this to me!” The officers gave him space, but their silence was heavy. The truth hung there, undeniable, crushing. Rage replaced grief. Dominic staggered to his feet, his face wet with tears, his voice cracking as he demanded, “Where is the driver?! Who did this to her?!” “The truck driver fled,” an officer admitted. “We’re still searching. A warrant has been issued—” “Not enough!” Dominic bellowed. His hands balled into fists, trembling with fury. “I want him dragged to me in chains! Do you hear me? I’ll pay—reward money, as much as it takes! Triple, quadruple, I don’t care! Bring him to me, or I’ll destroy every one of you for failing her!” The police tried to calm him, but he shoved them aside, his grief morphing into wild obsession. “Put him in jail! Let him rot! He killed her—he killed my Seraphina—” His voice cracked again, collapsing into sobs. He dropped to his knees once more, clutching his chest, his breath coming in broken gasps. His body convulsed with the pain in his heart, sharp and unbearable. It felt like the very organ inside him was tearing apart. And maybe it was. Adrian’s heart. The one that beat inside him now. The one that had always belonged to Seraphina first. Maybe this was why it hurt so much. Maybe this was why every cry he let out was heavier, sharper, filled with more anguish than he could understand. Or maybe it wasn’t Adrian at all. Maybe it was him. For years he told himself Seraphina was nothing but convenience. That she was pity. That she was never love. Yet here he was, on his knees in the middle of the street, sobbing her name, begging the universe to give her back. Because somewhere in the years, without admitting it, without realizing it—he had loved her. Truly, deeply, helplessly. And now, she was gone. His hands clawed against the pavement, his voice hoarse, broken. “Seraphina… Seraphina… please, don’t leave me…” The sirens faded, the murmurs of the crowd dimmed, but his cries remained, echoing into the night, carried on the wind. No one—not even Dominic himself—could tell if it was Adrian’s heart breaking inside him, or Dominic’s own. All that was certain was that Seraphina had taken both with her, leaving him hollow, shattered, undone.

Dominic’s POV I could still see it as if it were yesterday. The first time Adrian and I laid eyes on Seraphina. We were in college then—two young men who had always competed with each other, whether in studies, sports, or even who could drink more at a party. But when she walked into that café near the campus, everything stopped. She wasn’t even doing anything extraordinary—just ordering coffee with that quiet confidence, her hair loose around her shoulders, her smile polite. But something about her caught the light in a way that made the whole room turn. I remember nudging Adrian with my elbow. “She’s beautiful.” His gaze had already fixed on her, intense, like he had been waiting his whole life for her to arrive. “She’s mine,” he said simply, as though declaring it to the universe. I scoffed. “Yours? We don’t even know her name.” But Adrian was always the reckless one, the one who moved before thinking. A week later, he came to me grinning, saying he’d taken a job as her bodyguard. A bodyguard. Adrian didn’t need money—his family was well-off. I thought it was ridiculous. I mocked him for it too. “You’re going to play watchdog just to get close to her?” I had laughed. “Come on, that’s so old school.” I rolled my eyes at him, thinking it was another one of his reckless whims that would fade after a week. But it didn’t. Everywhere Seraphina went, Adrian followed—not just as a bodyguard, but as if he’d made it his mission to guard her heart too. He memorized her favorite coffee, the way she liked her books stacked, even the songs that made her smile. I watched from the sidelines, unsettled, irritated. And maybe, if I’m honest, jealous. Because while I laughed at his foolishness, deep down I knew Adrian was winning something I hadn’t even dared to reach for. He didn’t care. He was already falling. And soon enough, they became inseparable. I told myself to let it go. That if she made him happy, fine. But there was something about Seraphina—something that unsettled me. The way she laughed, the way her eyes softened when she cared, the way she moved as though she belonged to no one yet could belong to everyone. And I wasn’t blind to the pull she had on me. I flirted sometimes, casually, half to tease Adrian, half to test her reaction. A smile here, a compliment there. I thought it was harmless. But Adrian noticed. He always noticed. One night, he grabbed me by the collar, shoving me back. His eyes burned with rage I had never seen before. “Don’t you dare look at her like that again. Don’t you dare, Dominic.” “It’s just a joke,” I said, though deep down I knew it wasn’t. “It’s not funny.” His fist tightened. “She’s mine. Not yours. Don’t forget that.” That night, we fought—words sharper than any punches. And though we called it a misunderstanding later, I knew something between us had cracked. The bond we once had was no longer the same. And perhaps that was why, slowly, we drifted apart. Then came the accident. I was the one drunk, driving, colliding with his car. He was declared brain dead for what happened. He didn’t survive… and I paid everyone to hide the fact that I was the one driving. I can still see Seraphina’s face when they told her he was gone. She broke in front of me. She screamed, cried, begged the heavens. And I—selfish as I was—stepped into the gap his death left. I comforted her. I offered her stability. I told myself it was love, told myself that I had finally won against Adrian, that he had always taken what he wanted and this time, fate had chosen me instead. And she stayed. She gave me her years, her devotion, her warmth. For five years, she was by my side. And yet… when Helena came back into my life, I thought my heart still belonged to her. I thought it was Helena who held the key. But now… Now as I knelt before the unrecognizable remains of Seraphina, as the DNA confirmed what my eyes refused to see, I felt something crack inside me. A weight crushing my chest, a pain I could not name. My heart ached—Adrian’s heart, beating inside me, mourning the woman he truly loved. Or was it me? Was it Dominic, not Adrian, who couldn’t stop crying her name? “Seraphina…” My voice broke, my tears falling freely, no longer caring who saw. “Why… why did you leave me?” A sharp sting tore me from my grief. A slap. Helena stood before me, her face contorted with rage. “How dare you leave me at the altar!” she screamed. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? Everyone’s talking right now—about her! About Seraphina! And here you are, crying over a dead body!” I stared at her, stunned. “How dare you slap me—she’s dead, Helena!” “So what? You wanted her dead, didn’t you?” she spat, her eyes glinting. My fury surged, and before I could stop myself, I slapped her back. The sound cracked in the air, and silence fell around us. Helena touched her cheek, horrified. “You slapped me? Dominic?” “You started it,” I hissed, my chest heaving. “Can’t you see? I’m grieving!” She laughed bitterly. “Grieving? For her? Didn’t you say you never cared for her? Didn’t you say she was nothing but pity, nothing but guilt? Why now, Dominic? Why cry now, when she’s dead? Don’t tell me… don’t you dare tell me… that you love her.” Her words pierced me. Love. The word I had denied, twisted, buried under excuses. My lips parted, but no sound came. I shook my head, unable to answer. Finally, I whispered, “Just… not like this. She can’t die. Not when she filed a case against me. She can’t leave without paying for it.” But deep down, I knew. My heart wasn’t breaking because of the case. It wasn’t guilt alone. It was love. Too late, too broken, too poisoned by pride. Seraphina was gone. And the truth I never dared admit tore me apart: she had truly loved me, and I had destroyed her.