Chapter 4

Rage detonated in my chest. My voice came out shredded, barely human. "Impossible. Stop dreaming."

But Daisy Gilbert's eyes glittered with cold triumph. She nodded once—sharp, final.

The bodyguards moved before I could react. Iron hands clamped around my arms, dragging me from the ward like a condemned man. Daisy was already barking orders at the doctors, demanding a compatibility test.

This was a private hospital. Gilbert Group property. State-of-the-art equipment, world-class surgeons—and Daisy's word was gospel.

The medical team wheeled out James's mother within minutes. Her face was a skull wrapped in papery skin, hollowed out by disease. They drew blood from both of us.

Hours crawled by.

Then the results came back.

A perfect match.

Of course. Fate had always had a sick sense of humor.

A satisfied smirk curved Daisy's lips. "Good. Prep him. The moment his vitals stabilize, operate."

My vision blurred. I thrashed against the guards, muscles burning, wrists screaming. "I don't consent! I'm not donating! Let me go!"

Daisy's gaze swept over me like I was already a corpse. "Tyler Harding. You killed James. Saving his mother is your atonement."

A flick of her wrist. The guards pinned me flat and wheeled me toward the operating theater.

Cold flooded my veins as the anesthetic hit. My thoughts fractured. My body turned to lead, dragging me down, down, down—

Into a nightmare I couldn't escape.

In the dream, I was back in the past. Standing beside Daisy in a jewelry store. That was the day we ran into James Delgado, fresh off a plane from abroad.

His gaze raked over me—slow, amused—and his lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer.

The moment his eyes met Daisy's, he shook his head with indulgent pity. "Daisy. You really have a type. He's my spitting image."

The bracelet slipped from her fingers. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter.

And her face—God, her face.

Longing. Joy. Sorrow. Excitement. All tangled together in a way I'd never seen before.

Never directed at me.

The truth crashed down like a collapsing building.

I finally understood why she'd chosen me in the first place.

I was a stand-in. A cheap copy of James Delgado.

After that day, everything changed.

Daisy started meeting him constantly. Hotels. Restaurants. She'd lace her fingers through his right in front of me, pressing herself against his side like I didn't exist.

At first, when I complained, she'd offer a few placating words. But as the encounters multiplied, her patience evaporated. She told me—cold, dismissive—to mind my own business.

Paranoia ate me alive. I checked her phone obsessively, scrolling through their messages until my eyes burned. Every time she reached for her keys, I grabbed her wrist. *Are you seeing him? Tell me.*

One night, I made a scene in a crowded restaurant.

Daisy finally snapped.

"Tyler, get a life." Her voice was ice. "If you can't stand me being close to James, then let's get a divorce."

The word hit me like a bullet.

She didn't come home after that.

I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. My mind narrowed to a single, desperate obsession: *Keep Daisy.*

She was the only light in my pitch-black existence.

That was when I made my first mistake.

I went to James Delgado. Liquidated everything—every asset, every cent I'd earned since the day I started working—and converted it into a massive sum.

I knelt before him.

Discarded my dignity like it was trash.

And begged him to leave.

James lit a cigarette. Smoke curled around his face as he looked down at me, amusement flickering in his eyes. After a long silence, he plucked the bank card from my outstretched hand like he was accepting alms from a beggar.

"I can leave Daisy." His voice was lazy, unhurried. "But I want to live on my own terms."

He leaned closer. His breath was warm against my ear, his words dripping with venom.

"Just remember this: even if I leave, you're still nothing but a pathetic substitute."

I didn't care about his mockery. I arranged a private plane according to his demands—first-class ticket out of the country.

That was my second mistake.

The plane crashed.

James Delgado's body was never recovered.

And in that moment, I finally understood what he meant by "living on his own terms."

He died.

But he would live forever in Daisy Gilbert's heart.