Chapter 1

My husband gave away the donor lungs that were supposed to save me.

The moment the surgery was announced as a success, the hospital lobby turned into chaos. Reporters crowded around Lawrence, cameras flashing while everyone shouted questions at him.

“Don, your wife has been waiting for a lung transplant for four years. Why wasn’t the donor lung given to her?”

Lawrence calmly cut him off. “Stella understands how this works. Lorinne needed it more, and she agreed with my decision.”

I almost laughed.

Agreed?

Five months ago, he sat beside my hospital bed and told me the donor lungs weren't a match.

“You'll have to wait a little longer,” he'd said. “Don't lose hope, wife. We'll find another donor.”

So I waited.

I waited while my lungs got weaker. I waited through the coughing, the hospital visits, the oxygen tanks, the endless pills, and all those nights when I couldn't sleep because I was terrified I wouldn't wake up the next morning.

And now I knew where those lungs had gone.

Lorinne stood beside my husband, looking weak and beautiful while she held his hand.

“He saved my life,” she cried. “He stayed with me through everything. He even took me home himself and made sure I had the best doctors and nurses taking care of me. I don't know what I would've done without him.”

Yeah.

He took her home.

He'd even moved me out of our bedroom because Lorinne needed a quiet place to recover.

“You can stay with your mom for a while,” he'd told me. “It's better for her recovery.”

And I agreed.

Because I was his wife.

Because I was stupid enough to believe that if I kept giving, eventually someone would give something back.

But I should have known better.

Lawrence Santiago wasn't just my husband.

He was the mafia don of the Santiago Legacy, one of the most powerful families in the city. He was a billionaire who could make people disappear with a phone call and make entire companies change hands before breakfast.

And Lorinne was the orphaned cousin he'd sworn to protect.

Her parents had been killed years ago in an ambush carried out during a war between rival mafia families.

And my mother? My mother had always treated Lorinne like the daughter she actually wanted.

She'd defended her, spoiled her, and forgiven every mistake she made.

I watched them standing together on that stage, hugging and smiling while the cameras went crazy.

They looked like a perfect family.

And I stood there alone, feeling a sharp ache spread through my chest. I reached for my medication and tried to step away.

A reporter suddenly grabbed my arm. “Donna, please join us!”

Before I could say no, he pulled me toward the stage.

“Anything you wanna say, Donna?”

Something inside me went cold. Me? Yes.

I took the microphone from him. “I don't want to get in the way of their perfect little family anymore. I quit.”

I dropped the microphone and turned around.

Lawrence grabbed my wrist.

Hard.

“Stella, what are you doing?” he hissed. “Lorinne needs to recover. She's still fragile, and the media is watching everything. Do you understand what you're doing right now? If this stresses her out and affects her condition, can you really live with that?”

I stared at him.

Hurt her?

What about me?

Had he ever worried about what stress was doing to my lungs?

My mother rushed over.

“There are cameras everywhere,” she whispered angrily. “At least pretend everything's fine. Do you want everyone talking about our family? Think about Lawrence. Think about the Santiago Legacy. Stop making a scene.”

Not once did she ask if I was okay.

Not once did Lawrence look at my face.

They pulled me back toward the podium and kept telling me to apologize.

To Lorinne.

Of course.

The three of them stood together, holding hands while I stood a few steps away.

I felt like some pathetic outsider who'd wandered into her own family's celebration.

How much more humiliating could this get?

Something in me finally broke.

I grabbed the framed photo a reporter had just handed Lawrence. It showed him and Lorinne smiling after her surgery.

I threw it onto the floor and stomped on it.

The glass shattered.

Then I knocked Lawrence's award off the table. It hit the floor with a loud crash.

Lawrence stared at me like I was disgusting.

My mother shook her head. “I raised such an ungrateful monster!”

I laughed.

“Ungrateful? When my lungs got worse, I could barely breathe. You told me it wasn't a big deal. You told me to go to the hospital by myself, get my oxygen checked, and come home.”

I looked straight at Lawrence.

“You remember that, don't you?”

His expression tightened.

“But when Lorinne started having trouble breathing, you called every specialist you knew. You flew doctors in from other countries. You stayed up all night making calls. You used the entire power of the Santiago Legacy to find her a donor.”

I looked around at all of them.

“How is that fair?”

Nobody answered.

“I waited four years for a lung transplant.” My throat tightened. “Four years! You kept telling me to be patient. To stay strong. To understand that other people needed help too.”

I wiped my tears, but more came.

“And I did understand. I understood every single time you told me to wait. I just never realized what you actually meant.”

Lawrence stepped toward me.

“Stella, you're upset. Don't do this here.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I'm done pretending.”

My voice cracked.

“I didn't know that being patient meant watching you give my chance to breathe to her!”

The entire lobby fell silent.

The cameras were still going off around me, flash after flash, but the whole lobby had gone strangely quiet.

Lawrence moved toward me. “Stella, enough. Come with me and we'll talk somewhere private.”

“Private?” I laughed, but it sounded awful. My face was already covered in tears, and I hadn't even noticed when I'd started crying. “Four years ago, when I was in the ER barely able to breathe, shaking so badly I couldn't even hold my phone, where were you?” I looked at my parents. “Did either of you come?”

Nobody said a word.

“The doctors wanted to admit me,” I continued. “They said my lungs were getting worse and I needed to stay under observation. But you told me there weren't enough beds.” I looked at my father. “You told me someone else needed it more, so I should go home and wait.”

Then my eyes moved to Lorinne.

“Now I understand.” My voice came out quieter. “That whole thing about there being no beds... You were saving one for her, weren't you?”

My father rushed over and caught my wrist. “Stella, stop this! You've said enough.”

I yanked my hand away. “Don't touch me.”

He stared at me, and I stared right back.

“And you want me to stop?” My voice shook. “You're my father. I'm your daughter. Your own blood.” I pointed toward Lawrence. “You knew my lungs wouldn't last another year. You knew how bad my condition was, and you still agreed to give my matching donor lungs to her.”

My throat tightened. “Why?!”

Nobody answered.

I looked between my parents and then at Lorinne. “Is she secretly your daughter or something? Did you both forget to tell me that I'm the one who was adopted?”

My mother slapped me before I could finish.

The sound cracked through the lobby.

My cheek burned.

“You've lost your mind,” she snapped. “Apologize to Lorinne. Right now!”