"Nora Chambers, I need your heart to save Yasmin."

Four years of dating shattered in an instant. Only after waking up strapped to a surgery table in this damp underground room did Nora finally see Theodore Goodwin for who he really was.

So all those years—the relentless pursuit, the over-the-top affection, the public displays of devotion—were nothing but a setup. He just wanted her heart. Literally. To save his childhood sweetheart, Yasmin Monroe.

"You hate me now, don’t you?"

Theodore brushed away the tears streaking down her cheeks, his tone ice-cold as he sneered, "Blame yourself. Your parents didn’t want you, and you were dumb enough to fall out with the Chambers Clan."

"You're like some stray dog—give you a little warmth and you wag your tail forever."

"At least your life won’t be totally useless. Saving Yasmin is the best thing you’ll ever do."

Just then, a woman in a hospital gown walked over and stopped beside him.

Her face looked soft and harmless, but she curled her lips into a sugary smile at Nora. "Nora, thanks for keeping this heart healthy for me. You’ve really done me a huge favor. Theodore and I will remember you forever."

"Yasmin, don’t waste your breath on her."

Theodore leaned down, kissed Yasmin Monroe gently on the forehead, and murmured, "Be good. Go lie down. When you wake up, everything will be different."

Watching the two of them flaunt their affection right in front of her, Nora could only let despair swallow her whole. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes as her eyelids slowly sank.

She died with her eyes burning with unwillingness.

...

The next day, a piece of breaking news blew up the internet—

"Yesterday, a helicopter crashed in Haitang Valley. The pilot and a female passenger surnamed Chambers were confirmed dead. Investigation shows the woman was Nora Chambers, fiancée of Goodwin Group’s CEO, Theodore Goodwin..."

The accompanying photo was a candid shot.

In the picture, Theodore Goodwin was kneeling in the wreckage at the crash site, clutching his fiancée’s body and crying like his world had collapsed.

That photo was later named the most tear‑jerking image of the year.

And from that moment on, Theodore Goodwin became a work-obsessed machine, keeping every woman at arm’s length.

People all over the city praised him as a man who loved with his whole heart.

Everyone said Nora Chambers died in an accident, but Lioran Chambers, the youngest genius doctor of the Chambers Clan, never bought that story. His sister was terrified of heights—just hearing the word “altitude” could make her break out in a cold sweat. How on earth would she ever get on some tourist plane by choice?

The Chambers brothers dug into Nora’s death together, only for each of them to suffer their own so‑called “accidents,” one after another.

Four years passed. Under the enthusiastic matchmaking of friends and family, Theodore Goodwin married his high school classmate, Yasmin Monroe. Their marriage looked peaceful enough from the outside—polite, distant, but seemingly harmonious.

Not long after, they had a daughter and named her Goodwin Nora.

That “Nora,” of course, was the name of Theodore’s former fiancée.

They claimed they named their child that way to honor the late Nora Chambers.

Once the news spread, people praised Yasmin for being generous and kind, and hailed Theodore as a man who never forgot his first love.

…

After her death, Nora Chambers turned into a wandering soul, drifting no closer than five meters behind Theodore Goodwin for years. She watched him and Yasmin step on her bones to climb their way up, becoming a so‑called model couple everyone admired.

Regret ate her alive.

“Please… if there’s a god out there, let me live again!”

If she could start over, she would make Theodore Goodwin and Yasmin Monroe pay—every debt, every drop of blood. She would save her family this time, no matter what.

*

“Hey, miss, time to take the needle out. Wake up.”

Nora blinked awake as the nurse gently shook her, the whole thing feeling like she’d just crawled out of a long, heavy dream.

The nurse pressed a cotton swab over the spot on the back of her hand and said in a kindly, slightly nagging tone, “Miss, your blood sugar’s way too low. Don’t go running on an empty stomach again, okay?”

"You probably don't know this, right? That forest park you went jogging in had a murder two days ago. A girl died there. If Mr. Winslow hadn’t shown up in time, you..."

The young nurse kept chattering, but Nora Chambers wasn’t listening anymore. Her gaze swept across the hospital room, every detail so familiar that her fingertips went cold.

She was really back.

Back to one year ago.

Back to the time when her health was shaky, her immunity trash-level poor, and Theodore Goodwin had even made her a whole workout schedule.

She’d been so stupid then, actually thinking Theodore cared, thinking every little thing he did was because he loved her.

She had no idea he’d been eyeing the very heart beating inside her chest—

the only hope to save his precious darling’s life.

Nora forced those ugly memories out of her head and turned to the nurse.

"That Mr. Winslow you mentioned… who is he?"

Last life, something similar had happened, but she’d been too focused on reassuring Theodore afterward. He handled the cleanup, and she never even saw the so‑called helpful Mr. Winslow.

The nurse’s expression softened with admiration. "Mr. Lionel Winslow."

Lionel Winslow?

The insanely rich uncle of Theodore Goodwin?

In her previous life, he’d died so young it shocked half the city.

After thanking the nurse, Nora quietly gathered her things and slipped out of the hospital.

She was waiting for a ride at the curb when a white Range Rover pulled out from the underground garage and stopped neatly in front of her.

The middle‑aged man in the passenger seat leaned out, his voice warm with concern.

"Ms. Chambers, you’re leaving already? How about staying one more day for observation?"

Nora recognized him instantly.

"Uncle Keith?"

Uncle Keith’s real name was Keith Jarvis, Lionel Winslow’s most trusted bodyguard. A former special forces soldier, he’d risked his life more than once to protect Lionel.

And if Keith Jarvis was here…

Then Lionel Winslow had to be in that car.

She didn’t dare knock on the back window, just bent down a little and asked Keith Jarvis, “Keith, is Mr. Winslow doing okay?”

Keith, always tight‑lipped about Lionel Winslow’s private matters, replied with his usual vague tone, “Same as always.”

“I heard from the nurse just now that it was Mr. Winslow who brought me here, and he even paid my hospital bill.”

Nora Chambers hesitated a second, then added, “Do you know when he might be free? I want to thank him in person.”

Keith glanced at the back seat out of habit. Lionel was sitting there with his eyes closed, looking like he was resting. Keith was about to make up some excuse when the rear window suddenly lowered with a soft hum.

“Nora.”

Lionel Winslow spoke. His voice was cool and clean, like frost forming on a winter morning—beautiful, but distant. As Theodore Goodwin’s girlfriend, Nora had barely met Lionel a handful of times, and real conversations between them were practically nonexistent.

Hearing him call her by her full name out of the blue, she froze for a second.

When her eyes met Lionel’s calm, unreadable gaze, she felt her whole body tense up.

“Uncle,” she said, imitating how Theodore always addressed him.

Lionel’s eyes paused on the box of glucose tablets she held to her chest before he asked, “Does Theodore know about your hypoglycemia?”

The truth was that Theodore Goodwin did know, but Nora answered, “I might’ve mentioned it before… I don’t really remember.”

“Then make sure you tell him.”

Still the gentleman, Lionel glanced around the quiet street and said, “It’s hard to get a ride from here. Do you want Keith to take you somewhere?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Nora waved her hands quickly. “My ride‑share is almost here. And… thank you for this morning, Uncle. Really.”

Lionel’s tone stayed even, almost indifferent. “It was nothing. Don’t think too much of it.”

As his car pulled away, Nora stood there for a long moment, dazed.

In her memory, Lionel Winslow had always been the cold, distant type. She never expected him to have such a gentle, considerate side.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized Lionel was basically flawless.

Looks, background, capability—he topped every chart.

A man like that could have any wife he wanted.

Even having a child wouldn’t be difficult for someone like him.

Yet he chose to stay single his entire life and, before passing away, left everything he owned to his troublesome nephew, Theodore Goodwin.

Honestly, life was ridiculous.

Good people always seemed to leave early, while the bad ones just kept living comfortably.