Chapter 3

My already fragile heart couldn't take it. A dull, crushing ache pressed against my chest.

I dragged my weak body across the room to find my usual medication. The moment I tipped the pills into my palm, a small figure rushed over, snatched them from my hand, and flung them to the floor.

"Who said you could take medicine without permission? You don't get to touch anything without Uncle Dylan's say-so!"

Maya glared at me, vicious.

The pain in my chest tightened. I didn't have the strength to argue—I just bent down to gather the scattered pills. But before I could reach them, a little foot stomped down hard, grinding the pills into the floorboards until they were crushed and embedded in the dust.

"Shameless! Thief! Get out of my house!" Her voice pierced through the air like a shard of glass.

A deafening ring exploded in my ears. My artificial heart maxed out under the strain. I couldn't hold myself up anymore—I collapsed, and the past came flooding back.

Maya had been sickly since birth. By the time they found her heart condition, there was no time left to wait for a donor. So I went in for the match quietly, and without a second thought, gave her my healthy heart. I had an artificial one put in its place.

I spent weeks hovering between life and death.

But the first day Maya was well enough to get out of bed, she didn't come to see me. She ran straight to Dylan instead.

"Uncle Dylan, when are you going to be my daddy for real? My dad is so annoying. Mom smokes one extra cigarette, and he nags for hours. I watch a little TV, and he lectures me. You're way better—you buy me burgers, take me to the amusement park. Me and Mom, we both love hanging out with you."

I stood right outside the door and heard every single word.

The scar from my surgery burned like it was fresh all over again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped forward. "Maya, I went under the knife for you. I nearly gave up half my life. And this is how you talk about me?"

Dylan immediately stepped in front of her, soft and defensive. "Come on, Wesley. She's just a kid—she doesn't know how to watch her mouth. Why get so worked up and yell at her like that?"

With Dylan shielding her, Maya grew bolder. She craned her neck and screamed right at me, "I just can't stand you! You're cold and never nice! Why didn't you just die on that operating table, anyway? Mom's already pregnant with Uncle Dylan's baby, so I'm gonna have a little brother soon. We don't even need you."

That hit me like a thunderbolt to the skull.

My whole body locked up. My blood ran hot and cold at once. The world went black, and I crumpled.

When I opened my eyes again, Claire was sitting beside me.

She saw I was awake. A long silence passed. Then she spoke flatly, "Since you already know, I'm not going to lie to you. Dylan and I slept together. The day your mother was buried. I told you I was too drunk to hear your phone call. But really, Dylan was all over me, and I didn't have a free hand to answer."

My brain went blank.

I remembered that day. Dylan had broken down crying at the funeral. I was worried about him, so I asked Claire to drive him home first.

My family was small—before the burial was even over, my uncles and cousins were already fighting over the inheritance. To keep our old house, my dad and I got beaten black and blue. I called Claire a dozen times. She never picked up once.

While I was at my lowest—broken and desperate—she was tangled up with Dylan.

My heart tore apart. Humiliation and rage flooded my head. I slapped her across the face, again and again. She just sat there, eyes lowered, taking it without flinching.

But when I moved to go after Dylan, she grabbed my wrist and exploded. "Wesley! You grew up with parents who adored you, and me by your side. You never wanted for anything. But Dylan had nothing—no one, nowhere to belong. Can't you just let him have this one thing?"

Seeing how blatantly she favored him broke something in me for good. My voice came out hoarse. "Claire. Let's get a divorce."

"No!" She threw her arms around me, her tone turning soft and pleading. "I'm sorry, I didn't think before I spoke. Wesley, I only see Dylan as a brother. He's just overly sensitive—he was terrified that after Mom died, we'd throw him out. That's why he drugged me. I swear, it was only that one time. It'll never happen again. Think of Maya—she just got a healthy heart. Are you really going to take her home away from her now?"

In that moment, I wavered. No matter how angry I was, Maya was still the child I'd raised.

"Fine. One more chance. But you get rid of the baby. You send Dylan away. Cut him off completely."

Claire hesitated. Then, finally, she bit her lip and nodded. "Okay. I promise."

She deleted all of Dylan's contacts right in front of me. She came home on time every day, gentle and accommodating. Even Maya softened—she was better behaved, sweeter.

I started to believe we might actually find our way back.

Then came Maya's birthday. I left work early to surprise her—I wanted to take her to the amusement park.

I'd barely reached the front door when I heard them talking inside.

"Mom, when are we going to see Uncle Dylan and the baby? I miss him so much."

Claire's voice dropped to a whisper. "Shh. Just wait till your dad gets home. We'll figure out a way to slip something into his drink. Once he's sound asleep, we'll sneak out and go see Uncle Dylan."

I stood frozen outside the door, like I'd fallen straight into a frozen pit.