BENEATH 1

Chapter 1 

My husband Stephen Davis, who used my donated cornea, forced me to kneel and bark like a dog. 

My daughter, who lived with my transplanted heart, kept saying I didn’t deserve to be her mother. 

Before my mechanical heart stopped, I called my husband. 

He snapped coldly: “Michelle, stop this nonsense! If you wanna die, go somewhere else, I won’t dump your body!” 

I closed my remaining left eye in the snow. 

Later, the husband who never loved me gouged out his own eye. 

The daughter who disowned me attempted suicide repeatedly just to see me. 

But I no longer craved their love. 

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Stephen slammed his phone against my head. 

“Are you insane, Michelle? Disturbing us while I’m modeling for Dorothy?” 

“Count how many times you’ve called!” 

Blood trickled from my temple into my eye, yet I clearly saw the pale pink lipstick stain on his collar–Dorothy’s fas vorite shade. 

After my mechanical heart’s third alarm, doctors urged me to call family for further tests. 

But my husband kept hanging up. 

He stormed in late, lashing out immediately. 

As if interrupting his time with Dorothy was an unforgivable crime. 

Swallowing bitterness, I explained: “My heart’s been acting up. The doctor said-” 

Stephen cut me off with an impatient frown. 

“Stop faking. You just want attention.” 

“Always with the cheap tricks. Honestly, you disgust me!” 

Clutching my throbbing temple, I watched his cold back disappear upstairs. 

I couldn’t recall the man who’d wept, promising to protect me forever after my postpartum hemorrhage. 

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04:45 

Chapter 1 

288 Vouchers 

During the first heart alarm, 

Stephen forced me to queue for Dorothy’s trendy birthday cake. 

After two hours under scorching sun, my wrist monitor beeped urgently. 

Weakly, I begged him to take me to the hospital. 

He sneered, “You don’t have heart disease at all. Stop making a fuss and pretending to be pitiful.” 

“Since you knew it was Dorothy’s birthday, fine if you didn’t want to give your blessings, but don’t come here to dis- gust everyone. What bad luck!” 

I collapsed roadside. A street cleaner took me to the ER. 

At the second alarm, 

Dorothy accused me of staining the portrait she’d painted for Emily. 

Pointing at wine marks on the canvas, she sobbed: “Stephen, does Michelle hate me being near Emily?” 

“Every piece is my heart! She can hit me, curse me–but not ruin my art!” 

Then Stephen locked me in the wine cellar, ordering me to kneel on dry ice. 

Frostbite ate through my knees, flesh festering with pus. 

Staggering, I pleaded for freedom. 

He laughed coldly, bolting the door. 

The butler freed me two days later while fetching wine. 

After bandaging my forehead wound, I entered my daughter’s room. 

Holding pastries bought on my way home from the hospital. 

“Sweetheart, painting? Want Mommy to join?” 

Emily glanced at me with disdain, wrinkling her nose. 

“Stay away from me, don’t get my painting dirty–it’s a gift for Auntie Dorothy.” She meticulously colored her art- work, utterly focused. 

After donating my right cornea, post–op complications left my left eye vision worse than before. 

Seeing me stare blankly at the drawing, Emily pouted and shoved me hard. 

“You blind thing, can you even see it?” 

“I drew Daddy cooking for me and Aunt Dorothy yesterday!” 

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04:46 

Chapter 1 

“Daddy says you’re a shameless copycat who stole Aunt Dorothy’s art. I don’t want you here!” 

Under my daughter’s hateful gaze, I gently closed the door. 

The artificial heart that had once beat steadily now throbbed with a twisted pain, as if it had been struck hard. 

I know they resent me. 

Because when Emily had heart surgery and Stephen received his corneal transplant, I hadn’t shown up. 

My junior Dorothy stayed by their side instead. 

But during my own recovery, they thought I’d run off with some man. 

Returning home half–blind with this mechanical heart in my chest, 

Stephen saw my coagulation disorder bruises and screamed, “Slut! Can’t live without men?” 

“You fled when my heart failed, now crawl back blind.” 

“Michelle, you’ll repent beside me for life!” 

I cannot tell them I was the donor, not wanting my family to bear lifelong guilt. 

Yet my silence let their hatred wound me without restraint. 

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