How Long Does An Onyx Resolute Stent Last?

My heartbeat is so steady that sometimes, I don't resemble a human being at all. The fluctuations in my heart rate are very small even though I might be sleeping, suffering from a fever, or losing too much blood. When I'm 18 years old, the Ziegler family admits me into a rehabilitation center. My new home is now a temperature-controlled intensive unit located on the top floor. Oh, Aiden Ziegler doesn't love me at all. It's merely because the one and only artificial heart present in this world—and also in his chest—needs to be fine-tuned with my own heartbeat as its primary frequency. If my heartbeat is steady, he gets to live. If not, he dies. Three months ago, a nurse accidentally took off one of the monitoring pads on my chest. Five minutes later, Aiden, who was ten thousand miles away, went through a temporary crash where his heart stopped. The next day, the third-party medical company filed for bankruptcy. Everyone who was involved in this incident got banned by the medical world. Because of that incident, all of the sounds get eradicated from the top floor. Even the elevator's chimes get muted when it reaches the top floor of the rehab center. Everything changes when Aiden flies to Iropa. That's when his fiancee, Mandy Sutherland, takes over the rehab center. As she flips through my medical bill of nine figures, she sneers at me. "So, the Zieglers are basically sustaining a loser who does nothing but gasps for breath while lying in bed, huh?" After that, Mandy tears off the monitoring pads and unplugs the sync line. Then, she forces me to get on a treadmill. "That'll be a six-mile run for you. You can forget about returning to the top floor if you can't finish the run." As I grip the handrails tightly, I can feel my heart rate turning erratic for the first time ever. It feels as though my heart is about to burst out of my chest. As soon as the alarm goes off, Mandy turns it off immediately. What she doesn't know is that Aiden's artificial heart has already gone crazy, just like mine, while he's stuck in a place that's 12 time zones away.

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

The first time I met him, he was lying in the recovery room after surgery, looking weak and lifeless. But strangely, my heart skipped in a way I hadn't felt in three years. I tried to act professional, but every time I stood beside him to check his vital signs or give his medications, my heart reacted in ways I couldn't explain. I couldn't even look him in the face without feeling shy. One small moment led to another until I finally gathered the courage to ask him for his number. But as his recovery improved and his discharge day approached, I couldn't stop asking myself one question: Would our story end at the hospital, or was this just the beginning?

Camila had three years to live and she chose to spend them loving her husband. But with only one month left, she discovers the truth: her marriage was never real, her medication was slowly killing her and the man she loved had been waiting for her to die. Refusing to die quietly, Camila signs a contract marriage with Aston Winston, cold, powerful and grieving. The deal was simple; his sister's heart in exchange for her taking his name. She thought their marriage was anything but love. What she didn't know was that Aston had specifically chosen her. Slowly, Camila rises from betrayal to reclaim her life and destroy the man who tried to bury her. With the scar from her past, Camila refused to believe second chances exist until the rules on the contract began blurring. But when her ex-husband came crawling back for forgiveness and buried secrets began unraveling; would she risk her heart again… or destroy everyone who ever broke it?

One Year to Lose You Maya Bennett has twelve months left to live. At twenty-one, she has everything: bestselling books, wealth, and a man who loves her enough to kneel with a ring in his hand. So she breaks his heart. On the night he proposes, Maya tells Ray she has fallen out of love. That she wants someone else, she walks away before he can see her fall apart because it’s easier to be hated than mourned. Then she meets Jay, a stranger in sportswear who can’t pay his taxi fare, so she thought… but in the real sense, he is the man the city knows as billionaire Jay Naire. She offers him a deal: pretend to be her boyfriend for one year. Make it convincing for Ray to forget her before she’s gone, and Jay agrees. But the more they fake it, the more real it becomes. And before the year runs out, Maya finds herself trapped between two men, the one she tried to save, and the one who refuses to let her go. Will twelve months be enough to lose both of them? Or will she run out of time first?

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.