On my eighteenth birthday, the Valerius crime family found me, claiming I was their long-lost daughter. They booked out an entire hospital, flying in top doctors from around the globe, all just to find a match for me and Caleb, their son, who had a heart condition. When the report flashed “perfect match,” my so-called mother, Eleanor, hugged me, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Serena, this is wonderful! Your brother is saved!” But the night before the surgery, she brought me a bowl of sleeping draught, her eyes chilling as she said: “Drink this. We’ll announce you died during surgery, an unfortunate accident. You’re just a country girl, unfit for the Valerius name. Your heart is the only thing that gives you value, the only way you can save your brother.” I looked at the triumphant smirk on the fake heiress’s face behind her and calmly drank the soup. Mom, you didn’t know. My heart was already failing too. Doctors said I wouldn’t live three months. I watched the triumphant smirk on the fake heiress’s face behind her and calmly drank the soup. The soup was warm, carrying a medicinal taste, a flavor I utterly loathed. But I didn’t let it show. Instead, I offered her a smile. “Thank you, Mom.” She collected the bowl with satisfaction, and as she turned, the coldness and disdain in her eyes were no longer bothering to hide. “That’s more like it.” Behind her, the fake heiress, Serena Valerius – the girl who’d lived my life for eighteen years – giggled, clinging to Eleanor’s arm. “Mom, I told you Maya was the most understanding. She’d do anything for her brother.” The mother and daughter exchanged smug smiles, as if performing a play just for me. All I could do was offer a fake smile in return. After they left, I lay on the sterile white hospital bed, feeling the subtle changes in my body. I dared not sleep. Because I was still waiting. Waiting for my so-called father, Arthur Valerius, the head of the Valerius Corporation, to come for the final confirmation. Sure enough, half an hour later, the door to my room pushed open. Arthur Valerius strode in, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, his expression utterly cold. It was as if he wasn’t visiting his daughter, but inspecting a newly acquired item. Beside him walked Dr. Wyatt, the world’s leading cardiac specialist. “Is she asleep?” Dr. Wyatt checked my pupils and pulse, then nodded. “Mr. Valerius, rest assured. The sedative dosage was precise. She’ll sleep soundly until the surgery begins, without any pain.” “Good.” Arthur Valerius’s voice held no ripple of emotion. “Remember, Dr. Wyatt, the surgery must be successful. My son’s life is more important than anything.” Dr. Wyatt nodded, respectfully responding. “The compatibility of this heart is truly perfect, a gift from God. Your son will recover quickly after the operation.” I almost laughed out loud. My dear father, you went to great lengths to drag me back from that remote village, not for reconciliation, but because your only son needed a compatible heart. And I, I was just the most compatible “item” you found. To prevent me from resisting, you lied, telling me it was just for tissue typing, a simple blood test. When the report came out, my biological mother, Eleanor, held me, weeping uncontrollably. But what she whispered was, “Caleb is saved.” From start to finish, no one ever asked me if I was willing. In their eyes, it seemed completely irrelevant. My life was clearly worth less than a suitable heart. Arthur Valerius stood for a while longer, seemingly ensuring I wouldn’t suddenly wake up. Then, he left without a backward glance. The moment the door closed, I opened my eyes. In the darkness, tears streamed down my face involuntarily. Mom, what you gave me was indeed a sleeping draught. But what you didn’t know was that before you brought it, I had already poured another bottle of colorless, odorless agent into my water glass. It was a powerful myocardial cell activator. It would make my heart exhibit unprecedented vitality and strength for a short period. But this vitality, which overtaxed my life, came at a price. After taking it, I could only sustain for a maximum of twelve hours. After twelve hours, it would completely fail and necrotize at the fastest possible rate. And that bowl of sleeping draught was the calculated prelude I needed to set the stage for this grand performance. You want my heart? Fine. I’ll give it to you. Not only will I give it, but I will personally deliver it into my “precious” brother’s chest. I want you to watch with your own eyes as hope, just ignited, crumbles into ashes.
The next morning, while I was still “asleep,” nurses wheeled me into the operating room. The surgical lights blazed, and cold instruments hummed faintly around me. Through a glass wall, I could vaguely see their anxious waiting figures. Eleanor covered her mouth, her eyes red, performing a show of deep mother-daughter affection. Serena, nestled beside her, couldn’t hide the triumph curving her lips. Dr. Wyatt put on his mask, picked up the scalpel, and gave a reassuring gesture to Arthur Valerius through the glass. “Prepare the anesthesia.” Cold liquid flowed into my veins. I took one last look at that family. Then, my consciousness plunged completely into darkness. … “It’s a success! The surgery was a complete success!” I don’t know how much time passed before I was “awakened” by a burst of ecstatic shouts. Of course, I wasn’t truly awake. My body had already been declared “massive intraoperative hemorrhage, resuscitation failed.” At this moment, the “me” was merely a detached consciousness, an observer. I saw Caleb Valerius wheeled out of the operating room, all his monitoring instruments showing normal readings. Eleanor saw her son emerge and immediately rushed forward. “Caleb, my Caleb! You’re finally well!” Arthur Valerius, for once, allowed a rare hint of a smile. He fought back tears as he clapped Dr. Wyatt on the shoulder. “Thank you.” Serena was even more excited, practically jumping up and down. “That’s wonderful! Caleb is fine!” The whole family gathered around Caleb, celebrating his new lease on life. Meanwhile, in another operating room, my body was slowly growing cold. No one cared. In fact, as Eleanor passed the gurney carrying my “body,” she averted her gaze in disgust, as if even a glance would bring bad luck. “Mom, what’s that?” Serena suddenly pointed to the bedside table in my old hospital room. There was an envelope there. It was in my handwriting. It read: To my dear Parents. Eleanor frowned, a look of revulsion on her face as she picked it up and tore it open. Arthur Valerius and Serena also leaned in, curious. The letter contained only a few short lines: \[Dad, Mom, thank you for finding me and giving me the chance to give my heart to my brother. Actually, I had already been diagnosed with heart failure when I was in the countryside. Doctors said I wouldn’t live three months. Now, to use this useless heart to buy my brother a lifetime of health is my greatest honor. Goodbye, I love you. The letter fluttered to the floor. Eleanor’s face instantly went ashen, her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word. Arthur Valerius snatched the letter, reread it several times, then ripped it to shreds. “Nonsense! This is impossible! Dr. Wyatt clearly said the heart was perfect!” He roared, as if grasping at a last straw. “Quick! Get Wyatt over here!” Just then, in Caleb Valerius’s room, a piercing alarm suddenly blared! “Beep—beep—beep—” The heartbeat curve on the monitor slowly dropped, then flattened into a straight line. A young nurse scrambled out, her voice shaking uncontrollably: “Mr. Valerius! It’s bad!” “Young Master Caleb… he has no heartbeat!”
The world, at that moment, seemed to hit a mute button. The corridor, filled with euphoria a second ago, instantly fell silent. Arthur Valerius pushed past the nurse and stormed into the room. My dear mother collapsed to the floor, her gaze vacant. “No… it can’t be… it was successful…” Inside the room, Dr. Wyatt and his team were frantically trying to revive Caleb. “Adrenaline!” “Prepare for defibrillation!” “No heart rate response! The failure is too rapid! This is not scientific!” Dr. Wyatt’s shouts bordered on hysteria. How could a heart that was considered an “artwork” just hours ago wither and necrotize like a sponge instantly drained of water? Arthur Valerius’s eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed Dr. Wyatt by the collar. “You said it was perfect! Why is this happening?!” “I don’t know!” Dr. Wyatt’s voice choked, shaking his head repeatedly. “This must be some unknown, acute rejection! Yes, it’s rejection, don’t blame me!” “Rejection?” Arthur Valerius’s eyes were wild. He threw Dr. Wyatt to the floor. “Then replace it again! Use mine!” Dr. Wyatt shook his head despairingly. “It’s too late, Mr. Valerius. This heart is necrotizing inside him, and the toxins will rapidly destroy his immune system…” “Useless!” Arthur Valerius punched the wall, blood instantly seeping from his knuckles. Hope had plummeted from the clouds, shattering into a million pieces. This feeling, it must be exquisite, wouldn’t it? I “floated” in the air, calmly observing the farce. At this moment, my eyes held only the thrill of vengeance served. Father, Mother, Brother. Your family, at last, was “reunited” in another way. Half an hour later, the resuscitation attempt ended. Dr. Wyatt wearily removed his mask, shaking his head helplessly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Valerius, we did everything we could.” Caleb Valerius, the Valerius family’s only heir, was dead. Killed by my “loving” heart. Eleanor let out a guttural scream and fainted. Arthur Valerius, a man always so cold, instantly aged ten years. His gaze, piercing through the crowd, landed on the gurney covered with a white sheet. My “body” lay there quietly. For the first time, his eyes held something other than calculation. Was it bewilderment, regret, or even a hint of fear? Whatever it was, I saw no remorse. He slowly walked over and pulled back the white sheet. My sallow, emaciated face lay there peacefully. “Heart failure… wouldn’t live three months…” He muttered the words from my letter over and over, as if hypnotizing himself, or perhaps denying everything. “Right, she was going to die anyway. It was her choice… it’s not my fault…” He sought some shred of comfort within himself. But how could these things be erased with a single phrase? The “fruit” on this tree, he had planted all the “seeds” himself. But Dr. Wyatt’s next words ripped away his last pretense. He rushed forward with a certificate, holding it out to Arthur Valerius, his expression agitated. “No! This isn’t right!” Dr. Wyatt frantically rushed to the nurses’ station and pulled up my pre-surgery blood report. He pointed to one of the indicators, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Impossible! This cellular activity indicates that this heart was stronger than any athlete’s heart before transplant! It wasn’t diseased at all!” Arthur Valerius’s whole body jolted. He immediately grabbed Dr. Wyatt’s shoulders. “What did you say?” “I said.” Dr. Wyatt’s voice trembled. “Her heart was healthy! Perfectly healthy! What the letter said was a lie!” He paused, a terrifying thought dawning on him. “Unless… she did it on purpose!” “She must have used some kind of drug to make her heart appear in its most perfect state, deceiving all of us!” Dr. Wyatt grew more agitated, as if trying to clear himself of responsibility through his words. “Once the drug wore off, the heart would immediately collapse! My God, this… this was a deliberate, mutually assured murder!” The word “murder” exploded like thunder in Arthur Valerius’s ears. His vision swam, and he staggered backward. Not fate, not an accident. It was her, this daughter he had never truly looked at, who had gambled her own life, a calculated murder of his only son. She hated them. Hated them enough to use her own heart as the weapon. Arthur Valerius’s throat made a gurgling sound, the blood vessels in his eyes tearing open inch by inch. He finally understood. He wasn’t the hunter. He, and his family, were merely prey in my trap, awaiting judgment. “Ah—!” He let out a strangled roar, rushing to my gurney, violently shaking my cold body. “Why! Why would you do this! I’m your father!” I really wanted to laugh. Father? Where were you during the eighteen years I was trafficked? Where were you when I was treated as a walking organ bank? Now, you ask me why. How ridiculous. Just then, Serena Valerius, who had been hiding in the corner, suddenly shrieked. “Dad… Dad… your phone… it’s ringing…” Arthur Valerius numbly pulled out his phone. On the screen was a newly received email. Sender: Your Abandoned Daughter. Email Subject: *Dad, My Final Gift For You* Arthur Valerius’s fingers trembled violently as he clicked open the email. Inside, there was only one video. He pressed play. My face appeared on the screen. It was recorded the night before the surgery. Video me, wearing a hospital gown, my face pale, but my eyes unusually calm. “Dad, Mom, by the time you see this video, I imagine Caleb has already received the ‘gift’ I gave him.” I smiled, showing a flash of white teeth. But that smile, in their eyes, was chillingly sinister. “You must be wondering why I hate you so much.” “After all, you gave me life, didn’t you?” My voice was soft, but every word felt like a poisoned steel needle. “Don’t worry, I’ll soon…” “Tell you the answer.”
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