Chapter 5 She had gotten too greedy.

Damian's POV

I watched Elara collapse onto the cold marble floor, her head hanging low like a lifeless rag doll.

The image of her in the study earlier that day suddenly flashed through my mind without warning—the way her entire body trembled as she clutched that cardiac compatibility report, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Those eyes that always looked at me with such tenderness were filled with shattered despair and disbelief.

Honestly, that moment stirred something uncomfortably complex in my chest.

I didn't understand why she had to play the victim like this.

Five years ago, if I hadn't stepped in to settle the thirty million dollars in high-interest loans her parents owed to the Las Vegas casino syndicates, she would have been feeding the alligators at the bottom of the Colorado River by now, courtesy of those vicious drug lords.

I paid off their debts, gave her the title of Mrs. Montgomery, and provided her with the most luxurious lifestyle money could buy.

For five years, she enjoyed privileges that millions could only dream of.

Did she really think there was some fairy tale where the prince falls for Cinderella? Everything she'd been given had a price tag attached from the very beginning.

What I wanted was simple—the heart in her chest that could save Vivian's life.

It was fair.

I believed I had been more than generous with her. Without me, she wouldn't have survived long enough to even give birth to Caleb, let alone live to see today.

Now that it was time for her to fulfill her end of the bargain, she started talking to me about feelings and acting like she'd been wronged.

Truth be told, over the past two years, watching her settle into this house and build a life here, I had considered finding another heart. I had quietly ordered my most trusted men to search the global black markets and organ banks for suitable donors. If they could find a matching heart, I wouldn't have minded letting her continue as Mrs. Montgomery.

But every single time, the compatibility reports came back as failures.

Every screening result my men brought me was rejected due to fatal rejection risks or incompatible markers.

It seemed the entire world had conspired to make Elara's heart the only one that could perfectly match Vivian's body.

If that was the case, then this was her destiny.

But earlier at the club, when I saw her moving her body under the greedy stares of those men, when I heard her scream at me with reddened eyes, "I'm going to die anyway! What's wrong with letting loose?!"—something sharp and rusty dragged across my chest.

That sudden, uncontrollable suffocation irritated me deeply.

I was used to controlling everything, used to her standing obediently behind me.

She shouldn't have had that kind of deathly desperation, and she certainly shouldn't have rebelled against me in such a final, reckless way.

But Caleb's accusation snapped me back to clarity.

"Mommy Vivian's heart was hurting so badly tonight that she was crying, but she didn't even dare call you!"

My son's young but furious voice echoed through the hall.

I looked down at Elara on the floor, and that faint, indescribable feeling in my chest was immediately replaced by cold, ruthless logic.

So that was it.

She had always been docile and well-behaved. Going to that seedy underground club tonight was calculated—she knew the bodyguards would report it to me.

She deliberately provoked me, deliberately put on that broken act, all to force me back from the hospital, to tear me away from Vivian's side.

She was playing games.

The moment I realized this, the temperature in my eyes dropped to freezing.

She had gotten too greedy. She'd enjoyed five years of comfort, and now she thought she could use these pathetic tactics to win my sympathy, even at the cost of Vivian's life.

"Keep an eye on her." I didn't spare her another glance, tossing the cold command at the bodyguard before turning and striding out of the estate.

The Maybach tore back into the thick night, its engine roaring through the silent streets as I headed straight for the hospital.

When I pushed open the door to the top-floor VIP room, the scene inside was a stark contrast to the cold oppression of the estate's hall.

The room was bathed in warm yellow light.

Vivian was propped up against the headboard, her face still carrying that sickly pallor, but her breathing had steadied considerably.

Caleb was sprawled beside her bed, holding up a stuffed bear and clumsily telling her a joke he'd heard at preschool.

When she saw me walk in, her eyes brightened briefly before guilt flickered across her features.

"Why did you come back?" She tried to sit up straighter, her voice soft and weak. "I'm fine, really. I just had a little chest tightness earlier. The doctor already checked on me. You shouldn't have left Elara alone—she must have been terrified today."

"She doesn't need me to worry about her." I shrugged off my coat, still carrying the night's cold wind, and walked to the bedside, running my hand through Caleb's hair.

My son immediately wrapped his arms around mine, tilting his little face up. His blue eyes were full of trust. "Daddy, Aunt Vivian was in so much pain earlier, but she didn't even cry. When she gets her new heart and feels better, we can all go to the amusement park together, right?"

Watching them together like this, the tension that had gripped me all evening finally began to ease.

This was the life I wanted.

Vivian was gentle, understanding, and never caused me trouble.

Caleb adored her—he relied on her even more than he did on his own mother.

As long as next month's surgery went smoothly, everything would return to normal. The insignificant ripple Elara had caused would be completely smoothed over.

I walked over to the sofa and sat down, crossing my long legs. I pulled a cigar from my pocket and had just lit it with my metal lighter when a blinding flash of lightning tore across the sky outside the window.

The white light flooded the room, turning everything ghostly pale. Immediately after, deafening thunder exploded overhead.

The storm that had been brewing all day had finally arrived.

My fingers, holding the cigar, froze mid-air.

Fat raindrops began hammering against the bulletproof glass, creating a relentless staccato. The wind howled past the building, and thunder rolled in wave after wave, as if threatening to tear the entire city apart.

Unbidden, Elara's face flashed through my mind.

She was afraid of the dark. Even more afraid of thunder.

The first summer after we married, we spent our honeymoon in Sicily. A rare thunderstorm hit the estate. The power went out, and when I returned to the bedroom after handling some business with the syndicate, I found her curled up in the deepest corner of the closet, hands pressed over her ears, trembling like a leaf.

That night, I pulled her out of the closet, held her against my chest, and spent the entire night calming her down until she finally fell asleep.

She was alone at the estate now.

I had just left her collapsed on the floor, too weak to even stand.

I stared at the flickering red ember at the tip of my cigar, my throat tightening as I swallowed.

"Damian?" Vivian noticed my distraction and called out softly, her voice questioning.

I stood abruptly, crushing the barely-smoked cigar into the crystal ashtray with force.

"I need to go back." I grabbed my coat from the chair, my voice low.

"It's pouring outside, and the thunder…" Vivian looked at me with concern, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the blanket.

"Elara's afraid of thunder." I cut her off.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and even I was momentarily stunned. But I quickly found the perfect, unassailable justification for my actions.

I turned to face Vivian, my tone returning to the absolute rationality and calm befitting a Don, as if I were simply stating a matter of business. "The doctor specifically warned that this final month before the surgery is critical. The donor cannot be frightened or experience any severe emotional fluctuations. That heart cannot have even the slightest problem."

Vivian's expression darkened for a moment, but she quickly put on that understanding smile again.

She nodded. "You're right. The heart is what matters most. Go back and stay with her. Don't let her get scared and damage herself."

"Be good." I gave Caleb a brief instruction, then turned and strode out of the room.

The corridor was filled with cold drafts. I quickened my pace, my shoes striking the marble floor with urgent, echoing clicks.

I told myself I was only going back to ensure that the heart—the one that would soon belong to Vivian—remained in perfect condition.

I had spent five years maintaining her with the world's best medical team. I couldn't let it all fall apart at the last moment because of a thunderstorm.

That was all.

Nothing more.