While I Faced Death, He Plotted Against Me

After years of marriage, when my critical illness notice was issued, Matt didn't hesitate to propose mortgaging our house.

To pay the massive medical bills, the once proud and aloof man dragged himself through the mud, working day and night.

Not wanting to be a burden, I was ready to give up treatment. But then, a financial headline froze me in place.

The Pierce Family Heir Returns for Love! Reclaiming a Billion-Dollar Empire to Save His Beloved's Life!

The photo accompanying the article showed Matt's exhausted yet deeply affectionate profile.

I trembled, thinking this was his final fight for me. But as the camera panned, the woman in the sterile hospital gown was revealed to be the girl from the faded photo in his wallet.

And I, like an idiot, actually believed he loved me.

Matt walked into the room, bringing with him the sharp chill of the late-night air.

He took off his cheap jacket, his face lined with deep fatigue.

"How are you feeling today?"

He poured a cup of warm water and handed it to my bedside. I shook my head, lacking even the strength to speak.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, checking my temperature with his hand. "The doctors say the prognosis isn't great. But don't worry, Valerie. I've taken care of the money."

He pulled a document from his coat, carefully unfolding it. "I... mortgaged our house."

My heart seized. "You..."

"Don't say anything silly," he interrupted, as if assuming I'd be moved to tears by his sacrifice. "Nothing is more important than you. If it means you get better, I'd gladly sleep under a bridge."

He spoke so earnestly, with such deep affection. If I hadn't seen the news hours ago, I would have believed him.

Matt Pierce, heir to the Pierce fortune, my husband of five years, had been playing the role of a penniless working-class guy in front of me.

"Matt, do we... really have to do this?" I asked, my voice dry.

He fell silent for a moment, then pulled out another document: a voluntary organ donation agreement.

"Valerie, the doctor said we need to prepare for the worst." His voice was soft, but every word stabbed my heart. "I know how kind you are. The doctor told me today that there's a young woman, Stella. She has been waiting for a matching heart for a very, very long time."

Stella.

Finally, he said the name. The girl in the faded photo hidden in his wallet.

"She's so tragic. Her health has been failing since she was a child. She has lived in constant agony." He narrated her story calmly, as if my life and death were just a backdrop for her salvation. "If... I mean, if you donate your heart to her, it's a way for your life to continue, isn't it?"

I looked at this man. His patience was wearing thin; he didn't even bother to craft a better lie. He knew I was terminally ill and couldn't afford the treatment. He was certain my deep love for him would make me grant his every wish.

"So, mortgaging the house was to prepare for her surgery fees?" I asked directly.

He froze, taken aback. Then, a sorrowful expression took over. "Valerie, how could you think of me like that? I did it for your treatment!"

He turned back into the doting husband. "But your illness... you know the chances are slim. I just thought, if we fail, we could save another life, keeping a part of you alive. For my sake, please? Sign it first, and then we'll fight this together."

I pulled my cold hand away. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

A flicker of impatience crossed his face, quickly masked by tenderness. "Okay, rest up."

He placed the agreement and a pen on my nightstand, right where I would see it the second I opened my eyes. He put his jacket back on to leave. At the door, he turned back. "The doctor let me meet Stella. She's in the VIP penthouse suite. If you want, I can arrange for you to meet. She's a lovely girl."

The door closed. I stared at the agreement. It felt like a blade slicing through my chest.

The next day, a young nurse came to change my IV.

She was chatty and quick with her hands. "Ms. Lin, you really need to take care of yourself. Your husband is an angel."

I closed my eyes, not wanting to engage.

"He's here every day, running around for your bills. We're all so jealous."

Jealous? How ironic.

"The girl in the penthouse suite is rich, but so tragic," she gossiped, lowering her voice. "Her boyfriend is the heir to the Pierce Group! But honestly, he doesn't seem that devoted. He's always busy with work, only visits occasionally. Not like your husband, who practically lives by your side."

Her words sent my mind drifting back to our early years.

We had started dating when Matt was a broke student. He once worked a week at a part-time job just to buy me a designer lipstick I wanted.

When I make it, I'll give you the world, he had promised.

After graduation, he turned down high-paying corporate jobs for a simple clerk position.

I don't want to be tired, he had said. I just want to come home and cook for you.

I believed it all. But he wasn't humble; he was just biding his time, playing a part to keep me isolated and waiting for my heart to fail so Stella could have it.

"Ms. Lin? Are you okay?" the nurse asked.

"I'm fine, just thinking."

She packed her things. "Your husband called. He said he'll be late tonight."

I knew he wouldn't come. Stella's condition must have deteriorated, making her far more urgent than his backup organ donor.

By evening, Matt indeed hadn't shown up.

I sat up slowly. The nightstand still held the agreement and a poetry book Matt gave me as our first gift.

To my lifelong love, Valerie, the inscription read.

The door opened, and Matt walked in, smelling of expensive cologne and red wine, sharp against the sterile air of my room. He didn't ask if I had eaten. He walked over, picked up the poetry book, flipped through it mindlessly, and finally asked, "Valerie, did you hear some gossip?"

He was still trying to play the soothing husband. "Hospitals are full of rumors. Don't take them to heart."

"Who is Stella?" I asked, gathering all my courage.

He froze, then closed the book. "Shes just a friend."

"A friend who needs my heart to live?"

The air turned to ice. Matt's tender mask cracked. "Yes," he admitted. "Shes suffered since childhood. Don't you have any compassion?"

"Why should I sacrifice my life for her compassion?" My chest throbbed with a sharp pain.

"Valerie!" he raised his voice, his impatience fully bared. "What is this attitude? I'm discussing this with you, not begging! Are you losing your mind because of your illness? Since when did you become so selfish?"

Selfish. I had given up career opportunities for him, lived in cheap clothes, squeezed onto crowded buses, and spent five years counting pennies. And now, he wanted my life for another woman, calling me selfish.

"Matt Pierce, you disgust me."

With a loud slap, he threw the poetry book onto the floor, the pages scattering.

"Valerie, don't push your luck!"

His chest heaved. "You think you're in a position to negotiate? Without me, you can't even pay for tomorrow's medicine!"

He was threatening me with money. He pointed at the scattered pages. "A dying person has no right to hold onto these things. Can't you show some gratitude for our past?"

My heart was completely torn apart. I was just a dying object to him.

"So, you're threatening to stop my treatment if I don't sign?"

He looked momentarily taken aback by my calm, but quickly recovered his cold demeanor. "I'm just making you see reality. Signing is best for all of us."

"All of us" meant him and Stella, never me.

His phone rang, and his face tensed. "What? Her condition is worsening? I'll be right up!"

He hung up, glaring at me with raw hostility. No more love, no more warmth. He stepped closer. "Valerie, sign it. Now!"

I looked at him coldly. He was losing his composure because his precious Stella was running out of time.

"And if I don't?"

"You have no choice." He hissed. "Don't force my hand. Stella can't wait. Help her, and you help me."

He finally admitted it. It wasn't about charity or keeping a part of me alive. It was to save his true love.

"I spent five years of poverty with you, Valerie. Even if you don't care about yourself, think of what I gave up! Do you know what I sacrificed? I, the heir of the Pierce family, lived in a cramped, moldy apartment with you for five years! I've done more than enough!"

The ugly truth was out.

"I did it all for Stella! Approaching you, marrying you, tolerating you, it was all for this day! The doctor said your body was weak and you wouldn't live long, so I patiently waited! I thought when you died, I'd naturally get your heart. I didn't expect you to drag this out so long!"

My entire existence was a carefully orchestrated five-year trap to harvest my heart.

Seeing my silence, he thought he had been too harsh. He thrust the agreement and pen into my hands. "Sign it. This is the last thing you can do for me. If there's anything you want me to do after you're gone, I'll make sure it's done."

I looked at the donor page: Donor: Valerie Lin. Recipient: Stella Su.

My hands shook. Matt leaned down, whispering in my ear, "Be good, sign it, and I'll remember your kindness."

His breath made me sick. I gripped the pen, looked up, and smiled at him.

Before he could react, I didn't write. I tore the agreement in half. The tearing sound was incredibly sharp in the silent room. I tore it again and again, throwing the pieces to the floor. I dropped the pen; it rolled to his feet.

"Matt Pierce, in your dreams!"

Before, I would have given up because I was broke and hopeless. But now, Matt had reclaimed his inheritance for Stella's sake. Legally, half of that wealth belonged to me as his wife. Why shouldn't I fight to live?