Deceased Wife Returns to Wealthy Family

In the pitch-black night, only a single alabaster villa in the mountains emitted a faint glow. Zoey White stood by the window, her countenance exquisite yet pallid as paper. Her eyes reflected a profound stillness, akin to a stagnant pool filled with despair. In half an hour, her heart would beat within another woman's body. And she... How could a person live without a heart? The wooden door creaked, and amidst the interplay of light and shadow, a man entered. Tall and robust, with a handsome and chiseled face resembling the most perfect art crafted by the hands of God. Handsome, yet cold. "Surgery is in half an hour. Do you have anything left to say?" Owen Ryan Harris's voice carried a thick weariness. The glass window reflected Zoey White's sardonic smile. She laughed at her own foolishness. She loved this man so deeply, only to discover his heart was harder than stone. No, it was a heart of a serpent, otherwise, how could he be so ruthless towards her... He devised a conspiracy against her. She, like a fool, fell for it, believing she was terminally ill. Willingly, she married him and even signed up for organ donation. Naively, she thought even in death, her heart could continue beating in another woman's body, accompanying him. Deceivers! They were all deceivers! She wasn't sick at all. Moreover, she carried his child. The woman he truly cherished lay in the next room, Sophia Claire Wilson—an incomplete angel born with congenital heart disease. Originally, she should have died, but now, they wanted to give her this perfect heart. She was about to die. Die at the hands of the man she loved the most. Her pale lips curved into a scornful smile. Zoey uttered a single word, "Leave!" The man's robust figure trembled, fists clenched, and his eyes revealed a complex pain. He said, "I know it's hard for you, but Sophia, she's running out of time. The doctor said..." "Owen Ryan Harris..." Zoey slowly turned around, her stunning face pale yet remarkably beautiful. Like a withering flower struggling to bloom one last time. Owen's eyes tightened, a faint ache emanating from his heart. Zoey's lips formed a mocking curve. "I'm pregnant." As the words fell, the empty room grew even quieter. In the profound silence, Zoey could hear the powerful, rhythmic beats of her own heart. She stared at the handsome face before her, fearing to miss any hint of his reaction. The dim light stung her eyes, forcing her to close them tightly. Tears flowed, and through tear-blurred vision, she saw Owen's tightly clenched fist gradually loosen. He said, "You know, the child won't survive. Sophia doesn't have much time..." Zoey White finally despaired. Sophia, it was always Sophia. If you love her so much, why not give her your heart? Zoey didn't fear death. She just didn't want to die without clarity. "Owen, even now, you won't give me a straight answer?" "What?" His response was a bewildered look. He had always been inscrutable. Zoey had never truly understood him. But now, his acting skills had reached the pinnacle. Look at this face of innocence—how authentic. She applauded vigorously, her face filled with sorrow, releasing a hoarse cry, "You're truly laughable, Owen! Since you want to take my heart for that sickly beauty, just say it. After all, I'm an orphan with no attachments. I can give up my heart, but why deceive me?" Owen frowned, a hint of sharpness in his eyes. "Zoey White, have you caused enough trouble?" Trouble? Zoey coldly smiled, tears covering her face. Her long, soft, and radiant black hair cascaded behind her, like a phantom. She weakly stared at Owen and uttered a word, "Leave!" She stubbornly pursed her lips, turned around, leaving him with a resolute back. In the window, the reflection of the man's tall figure. Zoey White didn't want to look anymore, closing her eyes forcefully. Soon, she heard the gradually fading footsteps, followed by the door slamming shut. The vast room returned to a chilling silence, unsettlingly quiet. An empty corridor, the wall lamps emitting a dim and pallid light. Owen suddenly felt as if all the strength had left his body, leaning heavily against the wall. The stark light illuminated his deep, dark eyes, revealing a trace of profound pain, much like the perplexity within the murky night—deep, complex, and even he couldn't fathom his current turmoil. Was it for her, or was it for Sophia? Trading a heart for a marriage, it was a deal she agreed to. Yet why, at this moment, did he feel an unwillingness to part? The door made a creaking sound, and from the adjacent room emerged a woman with a graceful and luxurious demeanor. Grace Wilson, Sophia's mother. She carefully closed the door and approached Owen, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Thanks to you, Sophia's situation has improved. Thank you on behalf of Miss White." After saying this, she sighed softly, appearing mournful. However, a smirk gradually appeared at the corner of her lips, disappearing quickly behind her tightly sealed lips. As time passed, Owen suddenly straightened his posture, gazing at the tightly shut wooden door. He raised his hand, several times attempting to push the door open. "Owen..." The door next to him opened, and Grace glanced at him. There was a rapid glint of something peculiar in her eyes. Anxiously, she said, "Sophia is worried about the upcoming surgery, insisting on your company. Can you come and be with her?" Owen subconsciously looked towards the room in front of him, his brow furrowed. Under Grace's earnest gaze, he finally retracted his hand, turned around, and entered Sophia's room. Inside the room, Zoey White slumped on the floor, enduring intense pain. It seemed even her tears refused to flow. Half an hour later, Zoey White lay on the cold operating table. The overhead light was so bright, vividly illuminating the pristine, icy-cold operating room. A few minutes ago, the nurse had administered anesthesia. Her eyelids felt heavier, and the bright lights seemed to cast numerous swaying shadows. She knew she was about to fall asleep. Once she did, she would never wake up again. Zoey White was going to die. A mobile bed was wheeled in, and she saw the pale yet incomparably beautiful face of Sophia, the only daughter of Wilson Real Estate. Sophia, the fallen angel with clipped wings. The woman Owen truly cherished, the one he pampered and adored. Zoey envied her. Zoey White struggled to reach out and touch Sophia's hand. Her hand reached halfway, then collapsed weakly.