Countdown to My Last Heartbeat

Only because our son begged to go to the amusement park, my wife, Nyla Frost, a wealthy heiress, ended up in a car accident on the way there, leaving her permanently paralyzed from the waist down. To punish us, she slashed our daily allowance to a mere ten cents. For the past three years, my son and I had no choice but to survive by scavenging through trash every day, even fighting the dogs for scraps. One day, my son was so hungry that he lost all reason. He ate a few crumbs of a cookie that our family doctor had accidentally dropped on the floor. My wife flew into a rage, accusing him of having filthy, thieving hands. As punishment, she made him stand outside in the pouring rain for the whole day before he was allowed back inside. Furious, I marched over to her room to demand an explanation, only to freeze in my tracks. Despite supposedly being unable to walk, she was already standing. She was holding the family doctor's hand, dancing a romantic waltz with him. Her best friend gazed out the window, her heart aching with pity. "Nyla, back then, your kid threw a tantrum because he wanted to go to the amusement park. That's why you missed your first love's last chance to see you. But you've already punished your husband and son for three years. You even found a stand-in to stay by your side and pretend to be your doctor. Don't you think it's time to let it go?" Nyla scoffed, her voice cold. "Failure to teach the son falls on the father. They ruined my seven-year pact with my first love. This punishment is hardly enough. Don't bring it up again. There are still two years left. Once their punishment is over, I'll make it up to both of them." What she didn't know was that I'd been saving every decent meal for our son while going hungry myself. By then, I had terminal stomach cancer. I wouldn't live long enough to see those two years pass. I’d never let my son stay by her side and suffer any longer. Chapter 1 Zane's POV The rain poured heavily. My son, Asher Frost, collapsed on the pavement, his skin burning against my palms as his eyes rolled back into his head. I did not care about the rules anymore. I scooped his feverish body into my arms and bolted toward the front door. A bulky guard lunged forward to block the entrance. "Miss Nyla said the kid had to stay outside for ten hours. He has three hours left. You cannot take him inside." Panic spiked through my chest. I shoved past the guard with everything I had, my voice cracking into a raw scream, "Asher is burning up! If he stays out here for another three hours, he’ll die! Did Nyla order you to kill him?" Seeing my son limp and unconscious in my arms, the guard froze. He stepped aside, letting us burst through the doorway, but immediately pulled out his phone to call my wife. I ignored him. I wrapped Asher in a thick blanket, tore through the medicine cabinet, and pressed a cold compress onto his forehead. Just as I reached for a bottle of fever medicine, the front door swung open. Nyla glided into the foyer in her wheelchair, her face twisted with annoyance. "He’s just a kid. Are you trying to kill him by giving him some random medicine?" She turned toward the man beside her. "Kieran, check on him." Kieran Sullivan, our live-in private doctor, stepped forward. I hesitated but Asher was in bad shape. Kieran was a doctor, after all, so I forced myself to step back and let him examine my son. Kieran nodded, taking a thermometer out of his bag and placing it under Asher's tongue. Six minutes later, he pulled it out. I caught a glimpse of the digital display. Asher’s temperature was over 104 degrees. A dangerously severe fever. Kieran slid the thermometer back into his pocket and let out a light laugh. "His body temperature is completely normal. The kid doesn’t have a fever at all. Mr. Zane, you really shouldn’t spoil him like this." The worry on Nyla's face instantly dissolved into fury. "I caught Asher eating food off the floor and wanted to teach him a lesson before he made himself sick. Instead of backing me up, you’re teaching him to fake an illness to get out of trouble." She glared at me, her eyes cold. "Fine. Since you feel so sorry for him, you can take his place outside in the rain for ten hours." Eating off the floor was filthy, but was it any cleaner than the garbage can scraps Asher and I survived on every day? Her self-righteous speech was a pathetic excuse. She just wanted a reason to punish us because she was still bitter about missing her big reunion with her first love. When we started dating, I knew she had a high school sweetheart she never completely forgot. Before we got married, she swore to me over and over that she was completely over him. For a while, our marriage was good. She gave birth to our son, naming him Asher so he would be strong and safe. Then came the turning point three years ago. Asher was just a toddler, throwing a massive tantrum because he wanted Nyla to take him to the amusement park. She finally yielded, but that delay caused her to miss her seven-year reunion pact with her first love. She never forgave either of us for that day. Chapter 2 What none of us saw coming was that her high school sweetheart would choose to end his life that exact same day. Nyla was consumed by gut-wrenching regret. She convinced herself that Asher and I had colluded to mess everything up, deliberately ruining her reunion with him. She even pinned his death directly on us. Her grief turned into a poisonous hatred directed entirely at my son and me. To punish us, she staged a car crash, faked a permanent disability, and spent three agonizing years tormenting us. As if that wasn't enough, she hired a dead ringer for her ex to act as our live-in doctor just to keep him by her side. Now, solely because Kieran’s face looked ninety percent identical to her dead ex, Nyla bought every single word coming out of his mouth. She concluded that Asher wasn't running a high fever at all, but was just faking a sickness to trick her. Her orders? I had to go outside and stand in the torrential rain for another ten hours. A fury hotter than hell surged through my veins. Before I could hurl those words of hatred back in her face, Asher’s right hand suddenly jerked violently. His face turned a deep purple, his teeth clamped shut, and a thin trickle of blood spilled past his lips. My throat constricted in sheer panic. "It’s a febrile seizure! He’s in grave danger! We have to get him to an ER right now!" Nyla froze, panic flickering in her eyes as she reached for her phone to call an ambulance. Kieran let out a slow, dramatic sigh. "Man, you two really are a united front. Asher, you’re seriously pretending to be sick just like you saw on TV to get your dad out of his punishment? Fine. I’ll just pretend I didn’t notice." My son was barely conscious. Yet Nyla didn't even bother looking at him. Driven by a single tailored lie, she fell for Kieran’s cheap manipulation hook, line, and sinker. She shoved her phone back into her pocket, raised an eyebrow, and let out a cold, disgusted scoff. "Asher, you’re letting him ruin you. If you don't stand up right now, you're getting locked in the basement!" The only response she got was my son’s rapid, shallow, erratic gasps for air. Nyla lost her temper entirely. Without another word, she ordered the bodyguards to drag Asher away and throw him into the basement. Then they slammed me back onto the soaked pavement in the rain. She glared down at me with a lethal sneer. "This time, if he doesn't stand out here for the full ten hours, no one lets him in. Even if he dies." "Kieran is lying to you! Asher is really sick! He needs an emergency room!" I begged in the pouring rain, screaming until my voice rasped and broke into raw gravel, but the music blasting from Nyla’s second-floor bedroom only grew louder. The heavy rain blinded me, stinging my eyes. Extreme fatigue washed over me as the freezing wind bit into my skin, making me shiver uncontrollably. Yet none of that physical agony matched even a fraction of the agony ripping through my heart. She had never trusted me. Now, she didn't even care if our son lived or died. I thrashed against my restraints, but the bodyguards behind me pinned my arms down with brute, unyielding force. It wasn't until the punishment finally ended that they shoved me aside and released me. I stumbled blindly into the basement. My tiny little boy was tossed onto the cold hardwood floor like a discarded rag doll. His skin burned like an oven. He had lost consciousness completely. A desperate, broken scream ripped from my throat. Every person in the house just stared back at us with icy indifference. I knew begging them was useless. I gathered my limp son into my arms and sprinted out the front gates. This gated community sat far away from the city center, miles from the nearest hospital. Thankfully, a kind stranger stopped their car and drove us straight to the emergency room. The ER was a chaotic zoo of blaring monitors and shouting staff. My son fluttered his eyes open, his small, burning hand gripping mine tightly. "Daddy, I'm sorry... I'll never ask to go to the amusement park again. I'll never eat cookies off the floor again..." His voice drifted off, fading into a tiny whisper. My heart felt like it was being sliced into pieces. A nurse tapped my shoulder, reminding me to pay the deposit at the front desk. I checked my pockets. I didn't have a single cent to my name. To make her punishment absolute, Nyla had contacted every single one of my employers beforehand. Every penny I earned from my job and side hustles was wired directly into her bank account. As the nurse pressed me repeatedly for payment, I swallowed my pride and pulled off my gold wedding ring. Nyla had custom-made that ring herself for our wedding. I used to treasure it above my own life. Even when my son and I were starving and digging through trash cans for scrap, I couldn't bring myself to pawn it. At that point, I didn’t give a damn anymore. My own time was running out. My only remaining wish was for my son to live. … I managed to pay the deposit with the pawned ring. Yet only a nurse came over to set up an IV drip. The doctor on duty was nowhere to be found. When I anxiously pushed for answers, the nurse gave me a deeply apologetic look. "I'm so sorry. A VIP's friend was brought in with an injury, so all available doctors were pulled over to their room." Chapter 3 I was furious. "Their lives matter, but my son's doesn’t?!" I threw myself toward the crowd of bodyguards. That was when I caught sight of two all-too-familiar faces. Kieran was surrounded by doctors, a tiny, barely noticeable scratch marring his cheek. Beside him, Nyla wasn't even using her wheelchair. She stood tall, bellowing at the medical team, "If you can't erase every trace of that scar on his face, you're all fired!" Asher was literally dying, yet she pulled every life-saving doctor in the room to fix a microscopic scratch on Kieran's face. The rage nearly choked me. Before I could scream, a bodyguard clamped a heavy hand over my mouth, pinning me in place. I could only watch in terror as my son violently convulsed, frothing at the mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head. The nurse panicked, frantically dialing number after number for backup, but every call was met with cold, dismissive barked orders. Time blurred into a nightmare. When an emergency doctor finally sprinted over, he ran a quick check with his instruments and let out a heavy, solemn sigh. "I'm so sorry for your loss. We were too late. He's gone." The bodyguard dropped his hand in shock. Explosions echoed in my head. The freezing rain, the endless strain, and now this unbearable crush of grief ripped the remaining life from my body. My legs buckled. Everything faded into black. I woke up in a high-end private suite. Seeing me open my eyes, a nurse offered a quiet, pitying sigh. "The VIP said she deeply regrets what happened to your son. She paid for your hospital bill, and she left a pre-signed settlement agreement for you. Fill in whatever amount you want." I stared at the signature printed at the bottom: Nyla. I angrily tore it into pieces. My son was dead. My own body was failing. What use was her money to me? With bloodshot eyes, I asked, "Where’s my son?" The nurse opened her mouth, hesitated, and simply looked at me with deep sympathy. A sickening dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I yanked the IV out of my arm, swung my legs over the bed, and bolted out the door. The moment I rounded the corridor, I saw an orderly team wheeling my son’s body straight into the postmortem examination room. I charged forward to stop them, but security guards shoved me back. Moments later, Kieran walked up side by side with Nyla, a fresh bandage taped over his cheek. Nyla squeezed his arm, her eyes full of concern. "Your face is still healing. Are you sure you can handle performing the postmortem examination right now?" Kieran shook his head softly. "I have to. Your high school sweetheart always wanted to be a medical examiner, so I specialized in pathology to honor him. "Dr. Summers, the top forensic pathologist in the country, is choosing an assistant for a major residency program in two days," Kieran continued, "Leading the postmortem examination on this case is my only chance to demonstrate my skills and secure that spot." At the mention of her dead ex, Nyla’s expression softened. She gently adjusted his collar. "Thank you for doing this." My vision turned red. I screamed, "Nyla! That’s our son lying in there! You can't let him use his body as a practice dummy!" … Nyla flinched, sheer shock flashing across her face when she saw me. My words seemed to strike a chord, and she opened her mouth to speak. Kieran cut in with a heavy sigh. "Mr. Zane, Nyla and I have a strictly professional relationship. Nothing more. "You were jealous simply because I'm a man, so you targeted me at every turn," Kieran said, his voice heavy with restrained anguish, "You even coached your son to slash my face with a toy, and then you hid him away. I let all that go. But conducting this postmortem examination is critical for my career. Are you really going to ruin this for me too?" Before I could react, one of Kieran's medical residents pulled out a signed authorization form. "The patient suffered a severe congenital heart condition and passed away this morning despite emergency efforts. We received full legal authorization from his primary guardian for an immediate pathological study. "This review is standard procedure to determine the precise cause of death and assist medical research," the resident added, glaring at me, "Why are you trying to obstruct official medical procedure over a personal grudge?" Bystanders in the hallway began whispering and pointing fingers at me. Nyla's face darkened. Without another word to me, she raised a hand, signaling for Kieran and his team to proceed. Chapter 4 "No!" I lunged forward, desperate to break inside. Nyla snapped her fingers, summoning her bodyguards to tackle me back down to the floor. I fell to my knees, begging her through broken sobs, "Asher is already dead. Please, I’m begging you, don’t let them desecrate his body." Looking down at me in this pathetic state, a rare flash of pity softened Nyla’s cold eyes. She grabbed my hand, about to comfort me, when her gaze landed on my bare left hand. Shock instantly turned her face pale. "Where’s your wedding ring?" "I sold it to get..." Before I could explain that it was to pay for our son’s emergency care, Nyla raised her hand and slapped my face. "You're spoiling him again!" she shrieked, "The only reason I cut off your allowance was so you two wouldn't turn into lazy, spoiled degenerates! I can't believe you sold our wedding ring just to take him out to an amusement park! Unbelievable!" “Slap!” Slap after slap rained down on my face. I couldn't bring myself to say another word. She didn't believe me. Explaining anything to her was a waste of breath. I didn't fight back, taking every blow in silence. All I cared about was dragging myself toward the examination room door to reclaim my dead boy. Seeing my absolute desperation, the bodyguards hesitated, their grip on my arms slackening with pity. Nyla took their hesitation for incompetence and snapped in a fury, "Break his leg! Let's see him try to fight back after that!" With no choice, a bodyguard raised his boot and stomped down hard. A sickening snap echoed through the hall as my leg fractured. Yet I barely felt the agony. Tears blurred my vision completely as I dragged my ruined body forward across the floor, inch by painful inch. Nyla faltered, visibly shaken, and reached out to pull me up. Right then, the examination room door swung open. Kieran stepped out, covered in splatters of fresh blood. Nyla dropped her arms, abandoning me immediately as she rushed to his side. "He's acting totally insane, insisting that the kid in there is Asher! Kieran, you performed the procedure yourself. Tell him he's wrong." Kieran let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. "Of course it's not him. Asher is blessed. He's going to live a long, full life. How could he possibly be dead?" He paused, glancing at Nyla standing firmly on her own two feet, and put on a look of sudden realization. "Ah, I get it now, Nyla. He must’ve noticed your legs recovered. He's lying and using your son’s safety to scare you just to get your attention." It was only then that Nyla remembered she had rushed here in such a hurry that she forgot to use her wheelchair. She quickly scrambled to cook up an excuse for me. "My legs only healed two days ago," she blurted out, her tone defensive, "I kept it a secret from you guys just to make sure you learned your lesson. Besides, Kieran was top of his class, and he always said tough love builds real character. “Ever since I got sick, Asher's grades have been improving. Sure, he's having a tough time right now, but when he grows up to be someone successful, he'll understand why I had to do this." Asher had only studied hard because he wanted to make her happy. It was because he wanted his mom to love him a little more. It had nothing to do with her bullshit "tough love" philosophy. I opened my mouth to scream back at her, to tear her lies apart. Then a sudden wave of numbness hit me. My son was dead. He didn't have a future anymore. … Nyla frowned, caught off guard by my complete lack of reaction. She opened her mouth to keep rationalizing, but Kieran suddenly clutched his cheek, letting out a pained groan. "Nyla, I think my stitches pulled open," Kieran whimpered, looking down apologetically, "I'm sorry, I pushed myself too hard." Nyla panicked instantly, completely forgetting I was even standing there. "Your face can't get ruined! Where are the doctors?!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. She pulled Kieran away, leaving me behind once again. I didn't care about them anymore. I forced myself off the floor and limped into the room, my ruined leg dragging behind me. I approached the operating table and stared down at the body. Tears poured uncontrollably down my face. This wasn't a postmortem examination. This was pure butcher's work! The face was mangled beyond recognition, but the distinct birthmark on the wrist screamed the unbearable truth at me over and over again. This butchered pile of flesh on the table was my son. I wailed in agony as darkness threatened to pull me under, but I bit my lip until it bled to stay conscious. I had to guard him. I couldn't let anyone hurt him ever again. Using the leftover deposit money refunded by the hospital, I had my son cremated. Holding the tiny, heavy urn close to my chest, I walked back to our empty home. Chapter 5 I had no money to buy my son a burial plot in the city, so I returned home only to grab his documents and bring his ashes back to my hometown for burial. I gathered the paperwork and turned to leave, only to find Kieran standing in my path. With Nyla nowhere in sight, he dropped his whole innocent act, a cruel smirk plastered across his face. "You really are pathetic. You could never measure up to her dead ex, and now you can't even hold a candle to a replacement like me. "Now that your son is dead, you've lost the absolute last leverage you had to beg for her love. "And you know what? I ruined your kid's face on purpose during the postmortem examination. He looked way too much like you, and I despise you." My hands clenched into tight, trembling fists, my breath ragged. Right as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway, Kieran suddenly reached out and slapped the urn straight out of my hands. The last thread of my sanity snapped. I lashed out with a vicious kick, sending him tumbling straight down the porch stairs. Nyla rounded the corner just in time to see him hit the ground, screaming in pain. It was only two shallow steps. Anyone could have cleared them in a single stride. However, Kieran acted as if he had been pushed off a ten-story building, rolling dramatically on the ground until his head slammed into the iron banister, blood seeping from his scalp. Nyla gasped, rushing forward to scoop him into her arms. Kieran grabbed her hand, immediately putting on a tearful performance. "It's my fault for exposing his lies over and over again. Mr. Zane just lost his temper and pushed me down the stairs. It's fine, Nyla, I don't blame him." Nyla cradled Kieran's bleeding face, her eyes flashing with pure fury. "I let so much of your garbage slide without punishing you! "And now you're resorting to physical violence?!" she screamed, "Don't you know pushing someone down the stairs can kill them?!" I dropped to the ground, carefully gathering the remains bit by bit, and glared at her through bloodshot eyes. "Do you have any idea what Kieran did? He killed Asher! He butchered his body, and now he just knocked his ashes all over the floor!" Nyla lost her temper completely. "Asher is alive and fine! Stop dragging our son into this over and over to cover up your own twisted crimes! "I don't care who begs for you today, you’re getting the punishment you deserve!" She turned to her security team. "Harness him up to the bottom of the helicopter! Since you're brave enough to commit murder, let's see if you're actually brave enough to face death!" I had already been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I wasn't afraid of dying. I just stared at her with cold, unwavering hatred. My silence only infuriated Nyla further. She raised her boot and kicked the pile of ashes I had painstakingly gathered, scattering them everywhere. A raw, primal roar tore from my throat, but the bodyguards held me in an iron grip. Nyla wrapped an industrial harness around my torso, securing me to the belly of the helicopter. She tightened the harness slightly, her harsh tone softening into a sigh. "Learn your lesson this time, okay? Stop throwing these dramatic tantrums, and let's just live our lives normally. "You should bring our son back home later too," she added, "It's not good for him to keep staying over at his classmate's house like a leech." She brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead, then gave the pilot the sign to lift off. With a deafening roar, the helicopter took off into the sky. As my body was whipped around in the freezing high-altitude air, violent retching racked my chest, and mouthfuls of dark blood spewed from my lips. Nyla couldn't see that I was vomiting blood from up there. Thinking I was just motion sick, she let out another dramatic sigh and turned to her assistant. "Go pick Asher up early and bring him home. Let me give him a surprise." The assistant visibly trembled, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "Ma'am... Asher passed away from his illness days ago. You literally authorized Dr. Sullivan to perform the postmortem examination on his body. His ashes were in that urn, and they just got kicked across the driveway... Do you want me to sweep them up?" Nyla's eyes dilated in sheer horror, a scream catching in her throat. High above, the tether holding me snapped. Feeling myself plummeting toward the ground at terminal velocity, I felt no terror at all. A laugh actually broke past my cracked lips. Asher, Daddy's coming to be with you. In our next life, and the life after that, let's never cross paths with Nyla again. A sickening, thunderous crash echoed across the estate. My body slammed onto the pavement, mere feet away from where Nyla stood. Fresh, crimson blood splattered across her frozen, horror-stricken face.