Chapter 1

Thirty days into the silent treatment with my husband, he proposed a trip to mend our relationship. As soon as we landed, he snapped my ID card in half, smashed my phone, and abandoned me on a deserted island to fend for myself.

When someone asked if he was being too harsh, he was accompanying his childhood sweetheart to her prenatal checkup, sneering contemptuously:

"It's her own fault for being so petty. I was just using IVF to fulfill Faye's wish of becoming a mother, and she threw a fit demanding a divorce."

"The baby will be born in eight months. There's fresh water and food on that island, so she won't starve to death. I'm just teaching her a lesson."

Eight months later, holding his newborn son contentedly, my husband unusually asked his assistant:

"It's been so long, hasn't she made a fuss about coming back to the States yet?"

He didn't know that I had died on the very first day I arrived on that lonely island.

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1

When I opened my eyes again, my soul appeared in the delivery room.

Caelan, a new father, awkwardly cradled the baby, his eyes filled with love.

His childhood sweetheart Faye, with sweat-soaked forehead and matted hair, asked in a weak voice:

"Caelan, we have a son now. Do you like him?"

I felt a bit dazed. So, I had been dead for this long.

His child with Faye had already been born.

I placed my hand on my own belly.

If that child had survived, it would be a month old by now.

As soon as Caelan came out holding the baby, a group of people surrounded him to celebrate the birth of his son, setting off party poppers and handing out red envelopes.

"Caelan, this baby is so cute! He's the perfect blend of you and Faye. He'll definitely grow up to be a handsome young man!"

These people used to call me 'Caelan's wifey' and were indignant about Caelan's IVF situation, accusing Faye of being fake.

Well, they only sucked up to me before because I was Caelan's wife.

Caelan had a smile on his lips, but his gaze kept drifting to the end of the hallway, and he absent-mindedly picked up his phone to check it. After a moment's pause, he frowned and asked his assistant:

"Didn't I tell you to get her a new phone? Why hasn't she contacted me in these past few months, or made a fuss about coming back?"

The assistant lied without a change in expression:

"Miss Forrester constantly curses you and Miss Yates, saying she doesn't want any communication with you."

Caelan's brow furrowed deeper:

"She's so stubborn and set in her ways. Her temper is too obstinate."

"Tell her the child has been born, my task is complete."

"If she sincerely calls to apologize and is willing to be the child's godmother, I'll bring her back to the country."

I smiled sardonically.

He still doesn't know that I've long since died.

Nine months ago, during a prenatal checkup, I accidentally discovered Caelan and Faye were doing IVF.

He said Faye didn't have long to live and wanted to experience being a mother.

I was so upset I miscarried, and heartbroken, I asked for a divorce.

Caelan and I had a month-long silent treatment over it.

Later, he unusually took the initiative to talk to me, suggesting we go on a trip to mend our relationship, and upon return, he'd destroy the IVF embryos.

I believed him, only to be left to die alone on a deserted island.

Coming to my senses, Faye lay pitifully in the hospital bed and pleaded:

"Caelan, if Lavender comes back to the country, she won't hurt me again, will she? She can hurt me, but please don't let her harm our child!"

She lowered her head, adjusting the angle to deliberately expose the small scar on her forehead.

This scar was from when Faye deliberately hit her head against the wall while provoking me, after I found out about Caelan's IVF treatment.

It was also because of this incident that Caelan came to hate me bitterly, thinking I would bully even a terminally ill patient.

Caelan's eyes filled with sympathy as he said in a deep voice:

"If she dares to touch you or our child, I'll make sure she never comes back!"

The crowd burst into laughter:

"Caelan, you're still as protective of Faye as before. Now that the child is born, I remember you and Faye were betrothed as children. It's perfect for you to be together!"

"That's right, Caelan. Children need the complete love of both a father and a mother! Lavender is so petty and extreme in her personality, I'm really afraid she might do something to the child!"

Caelan didn't respond to this. Instead, he turned his head and asked his assistant:

"Did you send the message? How did she reply?"

The next second, Caelan's phone, placed by his side, rang. Caelan's gaze flickered, thinking it was me. He raised an eyebrow:

"Lavender, you finally..."

The words from the other end made him freeze in place:

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Forrester, Lavender's husband? I was wondering if you have time to come to St. Patrick's Cathedral to pick up a guardian angel necklace."

Caelan asked in return:

"What guardian angel necklace?"

The person on the other end said a prayer and sighed:

"A year ago, Lavender came to our cathedral, prostrating herself with each step, praying for her gravely ill husband. Later, when she returned to give thanks, she said her husband had recovered and she was even expecting a child. Our priest said she was blessed and specially consecrated a guardian angel necklace for her child, but we haven't been able to reach her for several months now."

Back then, when Caelan was diagnosed with end-stage heart failure, I tried every possible treatment, even begging heaven for mercy, kneeling and praying until my forehead bled.

Later, I joyfully returned to give thanks, thinking we had overcome the crisis and things were looking up.

But in the end, I lost everything and was left with nothing.

I clutched my sharply aching heart and gave a self-mocking smile.

Turns out even an artificial heart can hurt this much. The gathered crowd was stunned by these words:

"Who would've thought Lavender was so devoted? When you had heart failure, we all assumed she ran away, afraid of the responsibility. Looks like we misjudged her..."

Suddenly, Caelan clutched his chest, his brow furrowing.

After regaining his composure, he let out a cold laugh:

"Forget it. That stupid necklace, just toss it."

With that, he hung up the phone.

He lowered his gaze and sneered:

"This is the difference between Lavender and Faye."

"Lavender only does things to comfort herself, but Faye literally saved my life with hers! If Faye hadn't given me her heart, I'd be dead by now!"

"Faye's now living on borrowed time, but Lavender? She only knows how to be jealous and petty, deliberately losing the baby over some minor incident, and then demanding a divorce!"

My mouth went bitter.

I was the one who had donated the heart to Caelan.

The doctor told me that even if I paid a fortune for an artificial heart transplant and took medication daily, with current technology, I'd only live another year or two.

I didn't regret it; rather, I was grateful for the time I had left.

But when I woke up from my coma, I found Caelan tearfully thanking Faye for donating her heart to him. I was desperately trying to explain myself, but he accused me of being a poor imitation.

Our relationship only softened after I discovered I was pregnant.

It was all because when Faye came to visit me, she clutched her chest with a forlorn expression and said:

"It's a shame, I don't have long to live. I'm afraid I won't be able to have my own children, nor will I see your child, Caelan."

Caelan then decided without hesitation to give Faye a chance to be a mother.

That's what led to the tragedy that followed.

As they listened to Caelan's accusations, everyone exchanged glances, and the air suddenly grew tense.

To lighten the mood, they laughed and deliberately turned on the TV:

"Caelan, you just had a precious baby boy. Don't get too angry, try to relax a bit."

Who would have thought that it would be showing a news report:

"A drone patrol discovered a female skeleton on a deserted island in the Pacific Ocean. This is a testament to drone technology..."

Caelan suddenly looked up, his pupils contracting:

"Which deserted island?"