I Finally Learned My Place. Now It’s Too Late for Them.

Briar's POV

I waited two years for a donor heart. When one finally came, my husband gave it to Odette Ashworth, the girl who had been living my life.

My cardiologist gave me one week. So I made arrangements to have my body cryopreserved.

And I donated it to the very lab where Odette worked.

The day I signed the papers, my son threw his arms around me and said he was so glad Mommy and Aunt Odette were friends again.

My parents told me they were proud I'd finally learned what it means to be a sister.

My husband smiled, relieved, and said I'd finally let go of my grudges and started being reasonable.

I smiled back. They were right. This time, I really had learned my place.

I was going to hand the Ashworth name back to Odette and give every last one of them exactly what they wanted.

"You don't have much time left. Spend it saying goodbye to your family."

Dr. Achterberg kept his voice gentle. I could hear how much it cost him, but every word still hit my chest like a cinder block.

I'd known it was coming. I'd seen it in the charts for weeks. And still, when the death sentence was finally handed down, I couldn't stop the tears.

I was twenty-six. I had fought for every single day.

Then the heart I'd been waiting for finally arrived, and my husband, Leander Kincaid, took it from me.

He sat on the hospital's board. The Kincaid name was carved in limestone over the entrance to the cardiac pavilion. One phone call, and the heart went to Odette, whose own heart showed nothing worse than early signs of wear.

I drifted to her room in a daze. My parents, Leander, and our son Pax were gathered around her bed, fussing over her like she was made of glass.

When Leander saw me, he set down the cup he'd been holding to her lips and came over. "What did the doctor say?"

I looked at him. His eyes slid away from mine. "It was an emergency," he stammered. "If Odette hadn't gotten that heart, the pain would have killed her."

"He's right," my mother cut in. "Briar, Odette was hanging by a thread. You're not going to be petty enough to hold that against us, are you?"

The words I'd come to say died on my lips. "Of course not," I said evenly. "The doctor says there'll be good news in a week."

I paused. "Good news for all of us."

Leander looked up, and his eyes—those warm, heavy-lidded eyes I’d fallen for—instantly lit up. "A match already? I knew I'd made the right call."

My father let out a long, shaky breath. "Thank God that heart went to Odette. She never would've made it through the week without it."

My mother nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Odette's ear with infinite tenderness. "We finally got our girl back." Then her eyes cut to me. "Unlike some people, who could have kept waiting and instead threw a tantrum that humiliated this entire family."

I had stopped expecting anything from them a long time ago. It still cut.

I twisted the fabric of my skirt in my fist until the sting behind my eyes backed down.

Leander's eyes were soft when he looked at me, but what he said chilled me to the bone. "You really were out of line that day. I think you owe Odette an apology."

I stared at him.

She'd taken my heart, and I owed her an apology?

"Exactly," my mother said. "If you hadn't gone after her like that, she never would have had the attack. You should be grateful she's lying here safe and sound. If anything had happened to her, I'd have disowned you."

I remembered that day. Odette standing in front of me, tilting her chin so I could see the marks on her throat, purring about how much Leander cherished her, how he just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

I slapped her. They walked in at that exact moment.

Leander lunged and shoved me away from her.

I hit the floor. While the room was still spinning, my mother was on top of me, clawing and hitting.

My father stood a few feet back with his arms folded, as if he thought I had it coming.

Then my heart seized. In the same instant, Odette pressed a hand to her chest and whimpered that it hurt.

Everyone decided I was faking. And that she wasn't.

I pushed the memory away and pulled my mouth into something like a smile. "I'm sorry. It was my fault."

No one had expected me to fold so easily.

Leander studied me as if I were a puzzle missing a piece.

Odette's delicate brows drew together. Oh, you're good, her face said.

My parents watched me warily, bracing for the next explosion.

Only Pax looked happy. He ran over and flung himself into my arms. "Yay, Mommy! You finally said you're sorry! Don't be mean to Aunt Odette anymore, okay? Or else I won't like you anymore either, just like Grandma and Grandpa."

I looked down at him. My parents' coldness, my husband's favoritism, all their suspicion—I could take all of that. But my son, my own flesh and blood, loved her more too. That was the one thing I couldn't bear.

And yet I had no fight left in me.

I stroked his cheek and smiled. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

My mother gave a satisfied nod. "Well. Looks like Briar has finally learned how to behave."

Leander exhaled. "Look at that. My wife's finally being reasonable."

The indulgent, fond look he put on for the room turned my stomach.

Then Odette cried out, "It hurts," and Leander was at her side in a heartbeat.

Pax slipped out of my arms and ran to her too. "Where does it hurt, Aunt Odette? I can rub it to make it feel better."

My parents were near tears with worry.

Standing alone on the far side of the room, I felt like a clown who'd wandered into the wrong show.

I couldn't breathe in there anymore. I said I was tired, turned around, and walked out.