Three days later—our wedding anniversary.
Aron had placed his bet on me, so I decided to give him a gift as well.
After hanging up the phone, I snapped a photo of the agreement and sent it to Mr. Frederic.
Suddenly, a text notification appeared.
It was a screenshot from Instagram updates.
[I graduated. Dare you divorce her and marry me, Aron?]
In the comments section, Aron was the first to like and reply.
[I’ll divorce her. Dare you marry me?]
Staring at the post, I realized this had to be from Melly.
Nausea churned inside me as I gripped my phone tighter. More images followed.
A love hotel room littered with used condoms.
[Aron, this week’s quota is on me. You can take a break, sis.]
[No need to thank me—I’m here to replace you anyway.]
[I’ll be back in the country in three days. Watch your back, sis!]
Melly’s messages made me want to vomit.
Clamping a hand over my mouth, I quickly exited the chat and contacted Lockhom’s top detective agency.
[Please investigate someone for me.]
My fingers typed out: Melly. But just seconds later, a rejection came through.
[Are you Mrs. Howard? We’ve been instructed not to take your case.]
The city’s top detective agency had flat-out refused me.
Who else could be behind this? The answer was painfully obvious.
Clenching my phone until my knuckles went white, I gave up pursuing Melly directly. Instead, I sent a message to my best friend.
[Ryan, contact the detective agency for me. Use your name and sync the messages in this group.]
I forwarded the group chat between Aron and his so-called brothers.
Soon, I slipped into the group chat myself.
Aron wasn’t in it, but the feed kept updating with new posts.
[Sign up now to bet on seeing Laura in a bikini!]
[Don’t miss out—minimum bet one million per person!]
Expressionless, I scrolled through the stream of vile messages.
Then my heart slammed against my ribs as a new message appeared.
[Holy shit! Aron actually gave Laura’s heart transplant to Melly?!]
[Laura’s already in surgery with his chest open—without a heart, he’s done for.]
[I thought Aron had feelings for Laura, but the second Melly asked, he handed over a year’s worth of heart searches.]
The words strangled me like a noose.
I couldn’t breathe. Every drop of blood in my veins seemed to freeze.
Tears slipped down my cheeks as I shut off my phone, numb with agony.
On the day of my brother’s surgery, I had waited outside the operating room for ten agonizing hours.
What I received instead was a doctor, drenched in blood, telling me the transplant had failed—my brother hadn’t survived.
I collapsed in grief, sobbing until my body shook, while Aron rushed in and held me close.
He whispered that he would always be there for me. That we could have a child and build a happy family together.
After my brother’s death, I couldn’t eat a single bite. Aron cooked porridge himself, feeding me spoon by spoon until I finished.
Back then, I had abandoned the agreement Grandpa Howard left me, choosing instead to stay by Aron’s side.
The cruel irony? The heart meant for my brother had been stolen—by him.
“Ugh...”
Clutching my stomach, I stumbled into the bathroom to vomit. My hands shook as I searched through social media accounts.
Finally, I found Melly on X.
A post dated the same day as my brother’s surgery, a year ago.
She had written.
[Doing a good deed—giving my heart to someone who needs it.]
