The Billionaire's Substitute Lover's Escape

e for the woman he truly loved, Candice. My rare heart condition, the v

She shoved me into the icy Hudson River, th

uld only save one of us from the ch

g a shaking finger at Can

e leaving me to die. The man who had once saved me from the stree

lan. I would donate the unique tissue from my heart to save his precious

pte

ra

my own death was the easiest I' d ever made, b

filled with a mixture of clinical curiosity and pity. He adjusted his glasses, l

m. "I'm sure." My voice was a dry ra

icant portion of your unique cardiac tissue. The regenerative properti

It was more than a ris

the file on his desk, the one with Candice Robi

surface of my life, a ghost haunting every room of the penthouse I was su

to him," I said, the w

happy. A pang of something I couldn't name, something sharp and cold, went through me

. A substitute. That' s what I was. A placeholder for

he thing that's supposed to make me 'fragile' and 'b

dition isn't a flaw. It's a medical miracle. Your heart tissue has regenerative c

lic hospital in Queens. The doctors had taken one look at the strang

lls and whispered sympathies. They left me at the hospital, a tiny bundle with a faulty

k girl," the one who couldn't play too hard, the one other kids pushed around because they knew I wo

defiance, my artistic inclinations as a waste of space. "Quit your scribbling, Elar

dishes, shelving books-saving every penny. My art was my only escape, a

neon lights bled onto the wet pavement. I was nineteen, working a dead-end job at a coffee shop, barely making rent

of them slurred, reaching f

hammered against my ribs, a frantic, irregular r

He didn't raise his voice, didn't throw a punch. He just spoke, his tone low and laced with an

or of a stormy sea, scanned me fro

clutching my sketc

d. "Come on. You'

stepping into another dimension, a world of polished marble, soaring glass windows,

ling off a cliff. He was my savior, my patron. H

s the city. He was ruthless, powerful, and emotionally distant. He would shower me with gifts-designer dresses, expensive jewe

got the better of me. Inside, there was a single, worn photograph. A beautiful blonde girl with a radiant smile

ood friend, the one who got away. I saw her in the society pa

e gave me, I later realized, was in her favorite color. Every restaurant he took me to was one she had b

hs ago, the gh

. The tabloids said she was broke, her reputation in tatters. She came to Brooks,

e that, I ce

r. He moved her into a private suite at the best hospital, hired world-renowned sp

er. It was a look he had never once gi

. "They found a donor," he'd said to Candice over the phone, his voice thick with emotion. "A perfect match. Anon

was talking about me. My tissue. My miracl

had replied, "Oh, Brooks. You're my hero. Whoever

ck

the part I'd tried so desperately

d me to prepare some bone broth for Candice, her favorite. My own stomach w

e as he hung up the phone. "Is the soup r

grip clumsy. The hot ceramic slipped, scalding my hand. I didn't even flinch.

without a word of thanks, his focus alr

love was a dead end. My life, my hear

ht use for ashes. I printed my favorite photo of myself-a rare, genuine smile captured

y closet, tucked behind a row

hospital, the place where my new life would begin by faking my own death. An engine roared t