I used the excuse of running Gabriel's bath to dump an entire bottle of sleeping pills into the tub.

By the time he returned, he was out cold within minutes.

Maybe he was dreaming of Yvette, because in his sleep, he mumbled, "Yvette, I'll protect you no matter what, even if it costs me my life."

I couldn't hold it in anymore. Seven years of giving him everything. Seven years of loving him unconditionally. And this is what I got in return.

I quickly grabbed my phone and called my doctor friend, who had just come back from volunteering in Africa.

"I need you to perform a surgery for me."

"Yes, I'm sure. See you in three days."

What's worse than death?

A life worse than death, that's what real suffering is.

I hung up the phone and took Gabriel's phone, sneaking into the study.

As expected, the passcode was Yvette's birthday.

What I found next made my stomach drop. Gabriel had a secret Snapchat account.

Apparently, he'd forgotten to log out. His profile picture was a simple, glaring declaration: "Y❤️."

I scrolled through his timeline, and it was all about Yvette. Every post, every caption, was loaded with his not-so-hidden affection.

"First day at the Grant house. Saw Yvette. Suddenly understood the meaning of love at first sight."

"Yvette got married. I'm insanely jealous. I want her all to myself."

"Slept with Olivia three times today. I know her body can't handle it, but I had no choice. I missed Yvette so much, I kept calling her name in my head over and over, hoping I could somehow turn her into Yvette…"

There were photos of all the luxury gifts he'd given Yvette, diamonds, designer bags, even a heart-shaped private island he bought in her name.

And me? All I ever got was that damn artificial heart, which had only caused me suffering.

While I was grieving my mother's death and battling bloody coughs and sharp chest pains, Yvette was sunbathing on a private island, living her best life.

My hands shook violently as I clutched the phone. I was nauseous. I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up.

I stumbled back into the study and accidentally knocked a book off the shelf. When I picked it up, I realized it wasn't a book at all, it was a box disguised as one.

Inside, I found a stack of "Voluntary Heart Donation" certificates and several bank transfer receipts.

Gabriel had been sending large sums of money to the families of donors each month.

But there was a catch: they couldn't donate their hearts to anyone else. Whenever Yvette needed one, they had to contribute.

The last certificate? It was mine. But the recipient's name had been changed from my mother to Yvette.

I remembered signing those papers back then, in a rush to get Mom into surgery. Gabriel had told me it was all just paperwork, routine stuff. I didn't think to read it closely.

That certificate must have slipped in then, while I was focused on saving my mom. I'm sure my mother's certificate had been destroyed long ago.

Gabriel, you went to unimaginable lengths for her.

I printed the divorce papers, my heart heavy with sorrow, and collapsed onto the couch.

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

The next morning, Gabriel assumed I had just woken up early and didn't think twice.

Maybe because he saw me coughing up blood again the night before, he tried to make breakfast for me, a balanced spread to keep me nourished.

But when I didn't touch a single bite, he frowned, concern creasing his face. "Olivia, why aren't you eating? You okay?"

"It's nothing. I just miss Mom," I muttered.

He sighed deeply. "I miss her too. She was so kind, so gentle. I still remember how she held my hand and told us to be happy, no matter what."

If Mom had the strength to raise her hand one last time, I'm sure she'd have strangled him right then and there.