Part 1Dad's Murderer Begged Me to Save Him

On the day my uncle, Steve Chapman, showed signs of heart failure, my mother, Irina Cress, drugged my father, Sean Chapman, and placed him on the surgery table. His heart was taken by force and transplanted into Steve, which extended Steve’s life for an additional 10 years.

I left home after that incident and studied hard. I eventually earned admission to a medical research university because I ranked first in my class.

After 10 years, I developed an artificial heart and became a sought‑after expert in the medical field. Many people came to me and hoped to be placed on the list for an artificial heart.

My assistant, Lewis Henderson, handed me the latest list of applicants. Steve’s name appeared at the top.

I raised my pen and drew a line across his name. “This person is not approved. Put him on the blacklist.”

* * *

The application forms were arranged according to the highest sum of money paid, and Steve Chapman’s name appeared at the top because my biological mother, Irina Cress, paid a large amount of money to place him there.

However, I struck his name off without hesitation. That man had stolen my father’s heart and used it for years. It was time for him to return it.

My assistant, Lewis Henderson, took the list from me and looked shocked. “Leo, Cress Industries pledged 1 billion dollars in total to our research. That would be 100 million dollars every year for 10 years. If we take this job, we do not need to worry about our budget, and we can save double the lives for free every year…”

I stared at Lewis, and his voice faded.

It had been 10 years since my father passed. I glanced at the picture on my table. It used to be a happy portrait of a family of three, but I had torn it in half. Only the picture of a man remained, smiling happily with a baby in his arms.

“I had my own plans for getting funding, but this was a job we would never accept.”

Lewis looked puzzled.

When artificial hearts were introduced into the medical field, I set a rule. A portion of the funding would be used to treat heart diseases in young people every year for free.

We could save many lives if we accepted the job from Cress Industries, but I rejected it. When Lewis noticed how determined I was, he asked, “So, do you want me to reject the offer from Cress Industries?”

“Yes.”

Lewis kept looking back at me hopefully as he walked out of my office.

After that, the number on my blacklist changed from zero to one.

Lewis had worked with me since the start of this research, but he had no idea that the rule I set was my way of honoring my father. I started my research on artificial hearts because I never wanted the same tragedy that befell my father to happen to anyone else.

When my father passed, he was only 38. That day, I had just received my SAT results and discussed my university options with him while he rested in bed. After I went to sleep, my mother offered him a glass of milk that had been drugged.

The next day, I woke up and learned that my uncle, who was my father’s younger brother, had undergone successful surgery. My father had turned into an urn of ashes. I did not even get to see him one last time.

All I saw was my uncle, Steve. When he woke up, my mother rushed to his bed and grabbed his hand, crying with relief and happiness. Steve promised to take care of me on behalf of my parents, but he was not my father. I would never have a father again.

When I learned the truth, I left home and changed my original ambition. I chose to study medicine instead. I buried myself in books as thick as bricks and read them diligently, one after another. I researched and observed the hearts of numerous cadavers repeatedly.

I studied at dawn or headed to the library after waking up, and this continued for eight years. When I graduated, I had already developed the artificial heart. It took another two years of research and development before it became safe for use.

It had been 10 years since then, and I had never seen them again until now.

I returned to my seat and sat in front of my computer. I reorganized my new patients’ information and emailed it to my inbox. For some reason, I clicked into my old list. The page displayed the face of a man who looked similar to my father, and tears streamed down my cheeks.

My phone buzzed. Lewis knocked on my door and entered anxiously. “Leo, Cress Industries wants to talk to you. I had no idea where they got your number, and I was not able to stop them…”

I stared at my buzzing phone and wiped my tears with my finger. “It is fine.” It had been 10 years. “It is time to have a talk with them.”