Part 1He Saved His Lover With Our Baby’s Heart

Six years ago, my life plunged into an abyss.

My daughter suddenly fell gravely ill, and the exorbitant medical bills loomed over me like a mountain, crushing my spirit. My husband, Eric, not only chose to abandon her treatment but also ran straight into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Gisele Evans.

Just as I was consumed by despair, my first love, Jake Hall, appeared. Without a word, he transferred five million dollars into my account and stayed by my side, helping me care for our daughter.

But fate was cruel, and our daughter ultimately couldn't be saved. She left me forever.

Now, six years later, Jake and I have built a new life, and I'm pregnant with our child.

That day, I went to the hospital alone for a prenatal check-up. In the hallway, I unexpectedly overheard Jake and the doctor's conversation.

The doctor asked him with concern, "Mr. Hall, you and Ms. Thompson now have a child. What if what happened back then comes to light?"

Jake's answer pierced my heart like a cold knife: "Gisele was so sick back then, I had no choice but to use some means to transplant the child's heart to her. Besides, Ruth is pregnant again now; she should have moved on from the past."

It was only at that moment that I realized my daughter had been deliberately misdiagnosed.

Her heart, it turned out, had been secretly taken by Jake and transplanted into Gisele Evans!

…

Hearing this, tears silently streamed down my face.

It turned out the baby in my belly wasn't the fruit of love between Jake and me, but merely an offering of atonement. These past six years of our relationship were nothing but Jake’s elaborate act, all for Gisele Evans, the one true love of his life.

I gently touched my slightly swollen belly, a bitter smile twisting my lips. Six years ago, I couldn't save my daughter. Now, I refuse to continue this cursed entanglement.

In the hospital office, the doctor sighed softly, a hint of regret in his voice: "Alright, Mr. Hall, but is this truly worth it? Gisele is already married, and you should be living your own life. After all, Ms. Thompson loves you so much; she's a good woman."

Jake paused, then answered firmly: "Of course it's worth it. I don't care about titles, as long as I can protect Gisele. She can love whoever she wants; I just want her to be healthy and happy."

"As for Ruth Thompson, she is indeed wonderful. She's a good wife and will be a good mother. Unfortunately, I don't love her. You can't force love."

Hearing Jake say this, the doctor shook his head, asking no further questions.

"Ms. Thompson's pregnancy is very unstable. She's a woman who's suffered greatly, having already lost one child. Please, be good to her and this child."

Silence stretched for a long time on the other end, until Jake finally uttered a soft "Mmm."

I bit hard on my lip, stubbornly refusing to make a sound. It wasn't until Jake and the doctor left that I dared to sob openly.

So, my daughter, who had been born just a few days earlier, hadn't died of illness, but had been deliberately misdiagnosed by a doctor bribed by Jake.

All for a fresh heart to be transplanted into Gisele Evans.

Back then, when my daughter was diagnosed with a severe illness and admitted to the intensive care unit, my husband, Eric Vance, unwilling to bear the burden, walked out of the hospital and into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Gisele.

Jake's appearance was the only light in our lives.

Now, it seemed Jake's helping hand was merely to better oversee this heart that belonged to Gisele.

After divorcing Eric, Jake marrying me was probably just out of guilt.

Leaving the hospital, a heavy rain began to fall. I didn’t hail a cab, stumbling along like a drowned rat. The rain mixed with my tears; I’d lost count of how many times I’d cried.

When I got home, the housekeeper saw my disheveled state and rushed to meet me: "Madam, why didn't you call the driver to pick you up in this rain? You're pregnant; getting soaked isn't good for you."

Hearing the commotion, Jake emerged from his study. Seeing my red eyes and messy hair, a flicker of something that looked like concern crossed his face. He set down his coffee and swept me into his arms.

Jake's tone held a hint of scolding: "You're about to be a mother, and you're still as willful as a child."

"Not to mention catching a cold, what if you hurt the baby? I don't know what to do with you."

I glanced at him, muttering: "Jake, I've been a mother before. I don't need you to teach me."

"If the baby dies, it dies. I've already lost one child anyway."

Jake’s steps faltered. He frowned deeply but ultimately said nothing.

The bathtub was already filled with hot water. Jake tried to help me undress, but I refused.

Jake looked at me suspiciously, seemingly puzzled by my uncharacteristic behavior. After a long standoff, Jake left the bathroom.

I scrubbed myself repeatedly with shower gel, trying to wash away every trace Jake had left on me over the years.