The Stolen Heartbeat

In my previous life, my boyfriend Liam and I were deeply in love. I died right when I was lying in the VIP bed of a top-tier private hospital he had arranged, brimming with joy as I began my prenatal checkup. Only then did I realize that Liam had traded my life to give his stepsister, Chloe, a new lease on life.

I could never forget that tearing sensation my chest hollowed out, my child stolen from me.

Reborn into this life, my love was gone.

When I opened my eyes again, a nurse walked in carrying a blood draw tray.

"Get ready for the cardiac function confirmation test."

Liam sat by the bed and leaned over to kiss my forehead.

"Darling, it's just a minor test. Don't be nervous."

I immediately grabbed the phone from next to my pillow and screamed, "Siri, call 911!"

The second the call connected, Liam froze.

I roared into the phone, "I'm in the top-floor VIP ward of Manhattan Sacred Heart Private Hospital. I suspect someone is secretly collecting my blood samples for a heart donor match without my consent, using prenatal exams as a cover. Now they want to take me for further matching tests. I am pregnant and I do not consent to any organ matching or harvesting. Please send officers immediately."

Liam's face changed drastically. "Are you crazy?"

He reached out to snatch my phone.

"Hurry! Someone is trying to take my phone!" I raised my voice to a piercing pitch and yelled at the nurse, "Nurse, I've called the police! I demand that you pull the security footage!"

The nurse instantly shot Liam a suspicious look.

Four hospital security guards holding walkie-talkies, along with a few nosy family members from the next room, swarmed the doorway all at once.

Liam waved his hands to explain. "Don't misunderstand. She's my fiancée. She's pregnant and too nervous. I'm just here to accompany her for a routine prenatal checkup."

I sneered. "A routine prenatal checkup requires a final heart donor match?"

The nurse holding the blood draw tray stood completely frozen by the bed. Liam's eyes darkened as he lowered his voice to a warning whisper.

"Lin, stop making a scene. Let's get this over with early so I can take you to eat."

I ignored him and pulled a lab requisition form straight from the nightstand drawer. I had trusted him too much in my past life; he had shoved it into the nightstand before I could even take a glance at it. This time, I shook it open right in front of everyone.

The bold black letters glared at us: High-Resolution HLA Typing, Final Donor-Recipient Match Confirmation, Pericardial Tissue Biopsy.

I tapped my finger hard on the word 'Recipient'.

"Who is the recipient?"

Liam frowned, explaining with feigned helplessness. "Chloe's heart is failing rapidly. You just need to do a match, no one is forcing you to donate. It's a good deed to save a life do you really have to escalate this to the cops?"

I stared at him. "When did I ever know I had already been matched?"

He didn't answer.

"When did I sign an organ release memorandum and consent form?"

He kept his head down, still unresponsive.

"Why did the ultrasound report from my first prenatal checkup, which clearly stated 'normal fetal development', change to 'extremely high risk of developmental arrest' in the hospital system?"

Liam's face grew increasingly ugly. The nurse beside us immediately set down her tray and ran to get the head nurse.

I clutched my phone, my voice as steady as if I were reading a menu. "I demand that this private hospital immediately seal my medical records, blood sample chain-of-custody logs, security footage, and all signed documents. Without my direct verbal confirmation, absolutely no one is allowed to examine me or take me out of this room."

Liam leaned in close, resting both hands on the edge of the bed. He gritted his teeth, speaking in a voice only the two of us could hear.

"Don't blow this out of proportion. Chloe is weak. She's waiting for her life to be saved."

I looked up at him without backing down. "And? She needs to live, so I must hand over my heart, my life, and the child in my womb? Just so my baby and I can go meet our maker?"

Anger flashed in his eyes. "What are you talking about? With me here, who would dare take your life!"

In my previous life, I had believed him. That was why I truly died on the operating table.

I couldn't be bothered to entertain his act of deep affection anymore. His love and kindness had long been traded to that viperous family in exchange for his inheritance rights.

Ten minutes later, hospital security rushed up.

Twenty minutes later, Detective Miller strode into the ward.

Liam finally panicked.

"Officer, she's pregnant and her emotions are extremely unstable. We were just doing a normal medical screening. She suddenly backed out and is even slandering the hospital."

Detective Miller ignored him and looked directly at me. "You made the 911 call?"

I nodded and, right in front of everyone, pressed play on my phone's voice recorder.

From the nurse walking in and mentioning the "cardiac function confirmation test," to Liam personally stating that "Chloe is waiting for her life to be saved"—not a single sentence was missed.

Liam's lips slowly drained of color.

I pulled up my original health records, a photo of a positive pregnancy test with two distinct lines, and that lab requisition form.

"I am pregnant, which completely disqualifies me from any living organ evaluation standards. But just last week, under the pretext of routine prenatal blood work for anomaly screening, they drew three extra vials of my blood. I don't know where those blood samples went, and I absolutely never signed any living donation documents."

Detective Miller's eyes darkened. He turned and ordered the security guards to fetch the floor manager on duty to produce the paperwork.

Liam's face turned completely livid. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something else, but I cut him off right there.

"Detective, I am requesting a forensic handwriting analysis. If this hospital can produce a so-called organ transplant authorization, the signature on it has to be a forgery."

Just as those words dropped, the sound of a wheelchair rolling over the marble floor suddenly echoed from the hallway.

A weak voice drifted from the back of the crowd.

"Lin... why do you have to make things so difficult for Liam?"

I looked up.

Chloe sat in the wheelchair, pale-faced, with oxygen tubes hooked up to her nose. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her lips trembled slightly.

She looked at me.

"I merely... want to live."

"Am I wrong for that?"