Prepare the divorce and ruin your husband by Mark Twain 24
Chapter 24
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“You think this makes you a hero?” I asked. “After everything you did to her?”
He swallowed hard. “No. I know I’m trash. I chose wrong every single time. I let her suffer. I let our son cry for a mother who was being destroyed.”
My hands curled into fists. “You don’t get forgiveness from me.”
“I don’t want it,” he said. “I just want her to live. Please. Let me do one thing right.”
I hated him. God, I hated him. For every tear Nadia ever swallowed. For every night she survived alone.
But she was dying. Bleeding out on my table.
I turned away. “Lie down.”
He did not hesitate.
As they prepped him, Ryle was brought past the glass wall. The kid was crying, eyes swollen, fists clutching a nurse’s uniform.
“Where’s my mom?” he sobbed. “I want my mom. Please, she promised she wouldn’t leave me.”
My chest tightened hard enough to hurt.
I leaned down and pressed my forehead to the glass. “She’s fighting,” I said quietly. “And she’s winning. I swear to you.”
The surgery started.
I cut David open myself.
He stayed awake just long enough to look at her across the room. His voice was thin, already fading.
“She was always the strongest one,” he whispered. “Tell her… tell Isabella I loved her. Even if I was too stupid to show it.”
Then he was gone.
I took his heart. Still warm. Still beating. Still full of regret.
I put it into Nadia’s chest with hands that did not shake. I forced her body to accept it.
I refused to let her die.
The machine steadied.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
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I dropped to my knees beside her bed, gripping her hand like it was the only thing anchoring me to this world.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I murmured. “You belong here. With me. With your son. Death doesn’t get you. Not tonight.”
David didn’t make it. His body rejected the mechanical heart we tried to give him. Quiet. Fast. Final.
“Freeze him,” I told my men. “And keep your mouths shut. If she asks, you say nothing.” Hours later, her lashes fluttered.
She looked confused. Weak. Alive.
“Colt,” she whispered. “My chest feels… warm. Heavy.”
I brushed her hair back, keeping my face calm, my voice steady. “That’s because you’re alive. Focus on that.”
She searched my eyes like she always did, like she could see straight through me.
I didn’t tell her the truth.
Because if she knew whose heart was beating inside her chest, it would break her. And I would rather burn the world than let that happen.
…
ISABELLA’S POV
I was healing. At least my body was. Every day I could breathe a little easier, walk a little farther, hold Ryle’s hand without my knees shaking. The doctors said I was a miracle. I smiled and nodded, but inside I felt wrong. Heavy. Like my chest knew the truth before my mind did. Like the heart beating in me did not belong to me.
Ryle noticed it too.
One morning he climbed onto my bed, curled against my side, his small hand resting right over my chest. He looked up at me, eyes too old for his age.
“Mom,” he whispered, “your heartbeat feels different.”
I froze, then kissed his hair. “I’m okay, baby. Just tired.”
He nodded, but he did not look convinced.
That night, I heard voices outside my room. Low. Sharp. Tense. Ax and Colt.
“You can’t keep lying to her,” Ax said quietly, but there was panic under it. “She feels it. She knows something’s wrong.”
Colt’s voice came back rough, dangerous. “She doesn’t need the truth. The truth will destroy her.”
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My hand was already on the door. I stepped out before they could stop me.
“Whose heart is inside me?”
Both of them went still.
I looked straight at Colt. “Don’t protect me. Don’t control me. Tell me.”
His jaw tightened. He looked away.
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I asked again, slower this time, my voice shaking even though I hated that it was. “Colt. Whose heart is beating in my chest?”
Ax broke first. His shoulders sagged like he had been carrying this alone for too long.
“It was David,” he said. “He gave it to you.”
The world tilted.
“No,” I said, backing away. “That’s not funny. That’s not possible.”
Colt did not deny it. His silence hit harder than any scream.
I ran.
I don’t remember how I got to the cold storage room. My chest burned, every breath sharp and useless. When I saw him, I dropped to my knees.
David.
Still. Pale. Quiet. Like the storm had finally left him.
I pressed my forehead to his chest and sobbed like I hadn’t allowed myself to since the day I almost died.
“You ruined me,” I whispered. “You broke my life. You broke our family. And you still
saved me.”
My hands shook as I clutched his shirt. “You idiot. You absolute idiot.”
My voice cracked. “I forgive you. I hate that I forgive you, but I do.”
I stayed there until my legs went numb and my throat burned raw.
When I came back, Ryle was waiting. He ran to me and wrapped his arms around my
waist.
“Mom,” he cried. “I was scared. I thought you were gone again.”
I dropped to my knees and hugged him tight. “I’m here. I promise. I’m not leaving you.” He pressed his ear to my chest again, listening. “That heart,” he said softly, “it feels sad.”
My eyes burned. “It is,” I whispered. “But it’s strong.”
Weeks passed. My body healed fully. Ryle went back to laughing, back to being a kid. But at night, when he slept beside me, I felt the weight of everything pressing down.
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Colt never left my side. He watched me like he was afraid I would disappear if he blinked. Sometimes I caught him staring at me like he wanted to devour me and protect me at the same time.
One day, I told him, “I want to see Roxanne.”
He hated it. I saw it in his eyes. But he nodded.
The prison was cold. When Roxanne saw me, she smiled like she still thought she had
power.
“You’re hard to kill,” she said.
I leaned forward, calm, deadly. “David is dead.”
Her smile slipped.
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