When I Gave Him My Heart, He Regretted It

Chapter 1

People say twenty-eight is the make-or-break age for female celebrities.

That was why Ethan Parker, my first love and now a genius director, promised he'd capture me at my most beautiful when I turned twenty-eight.

Three years after we broke up, I tracked him down to make him keep that promise.

My obituary photo is going to be the most beautiful shot he ever takes of me.

*****

In Kingsham City, the venue of the film festival awards ceremony, my ex-boyfriend Ethan was surrounded by flowers, escorted through a throng of well-wishers as he stepped up to the stage to accept the Best Director award.

Huddled in the back corner, I slipped off my mask to reveal my pale, sickly face and secretly snapped a polaroid of the two of us in the same frame.

The image developed in seconds. I flipped open my thick journal and pressed the photo onto the page.

February 18, 2025. Ethan, you promised you'd help me hold on to my most beautiful twenty-eight-year-old self. So I came to find you, to make you keep that promise. Take the most beautiful set of funeral portraits for me.

I'd barely pressed the photo down when some sharp-eyed person spotted me.

"Zoe Sloane? Isn't that Ethan's nobody D-list ex? What's she doing here?"

"Obviously here to leech off his clout! Three years ago she framed Ethan for pressuring her into s****l favors just to get famous, and now she's sneaking photos with him? What new lie is she cooking up this time?"

The second those words left their mouths, all the hostile stares in the room pricked into my back like thousands of tiny needles.

A dull, spreading pain pricked all across my back.

Ethan on stage glanced over instinctively, but when his eyes landed on me, he only swept his gaze over me coldly before looking away immediately.

Like even looking at me for one more second would sully his eyes.

My throat felt horribly tight and clogged. Even with the harsh insults ringing in my ears and those sneering gazes boring into me, I gritted my teeth and stayed until the ceremony wrapped up.

I had to find Ethan, make him keep his promise to take those photos for me.

I had less than a week left to live. Asking him to take a few photos for me wasn't too much to ask, right?

Turns out I didn't even have to go looking for him. He sent his assistant to find me first.

"Ms. Sloane, Ethan would like to see you. He's waiting in the lounge."

*****

Inside the lounge, Ethan still had that sharp, handsome face. The only thing different was the cold, distant look in his eyes.

He was taking his heart medication, cold sweat beading all over his forehead as he struggled to breathe.

The second I pushed the door open, a worried question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Ethan, you still haven't found a medication that works for your heart condition?"

He looked at me coldly, his voice ice cold. "Isn't this all thanks to you?"

He was referring to what happened three years ago.

Back then, our intimate photos had leaked online. The deep-pocketed industry players had set a trap, twisting the truth to paint our relationship as him sexually harassing me.

A director and a female actress? Even without extra drama to stoke the fire, people could spin all kinds of wild, taboo rumors out of that dynamic alone.

The whole thing was beyond ridiculous. All Ethan and I had to do was release proof of our relationship to clear his name immediately.

But Luna Sloane stepped forward with so-called "damning evidence" and made those false accusations stick.

She'd taken money from the people orchestrating this mess, spouted off fake "proof" to the public, and screamed for all the cameras to hear. "Ethan, keep your filthy hands off my daughter!"

Just like that, Ethan was branded a disgraced industry figure blacklisted for s****l harassment.

Overnight, he plummeted from the top of the industry straight into ruin.

And when I vanished without a trace right when he needed me most? I sealed his fate and left him with zero way to claw his way back.

"Zoe, I called you here today to make you delete every single photo of us together. Name your price. I'll pay it."

Ethan's ice-cold words yanked me right out of my spiraling memories.

That was why he'd sent for me. All of this, just to get rid of our old photos.

My chest felt like it was stuffed full of sodden cotton, heavy and suffocating. A tight lump formed in my throat, and I couldn't get a single word out.

When I stayed silent, Ethan just tossed out a number right off the bat. "Will 500,000 dollars be enough? Delete the photos. I don't want a single picture of us popping up online ever again."

I shook my head. "I want 500 million dollars."

"What? 500 million dollars?" The icy calm in his eyes shattered, and disgust flared hot and sharp in their place.

He scoffed, a sharp, mocking smirk tugging at his mouth. "500 million? Zoe, I make movies for a living. Honestly, I don't trade my pride and morals for cash like some people. I don't have that kind of money lying around."

I swallowed down the thick ache clogging my chest, and spoke in a steady, unshakable tone. "500 million. Not a single cent less."

"Get out." Ethan couldn't even be bothered to glance at me anymore, nodding at Jake Parker to show me the door.

I stood rooted to the spot, stunned for a beat, then lifted my eyes, my voice rough and tight with strain. "If you don't have the money to pay me, you can settle this another way. Do a photoshoot for me, and I'll delete every single photo of us, no leftovers. Besides, you promised me you would, once."

Before Ethan could respond, his assistant and younger biological brother Jake cut in, his tone dripping with sarcasm and rage.

"Zoe, you ruined Ethan's life three years ago, and that wasn't enough for you? What new scheme have you cooked up to screw him over now? Do you have to drive him to his grave to be satisfied?"

Ethan cut him off. His voice was frosty, utterly detached.

"Fine. I'll do the photoshoot for you. But I get to delete all those photos myself, too."

I let out a loose, relieved smile. "Fine. Deal."

With that, he stood up to leave.

But he paused when he was right beside me, his gaze fixed on the side of my face. "One question, for what it's worth. Why didn't you show up to the clarification press conference all those years ago?"

Why? If I told him I'd suddenly collapsed from a stomach bleed and ended up fighting for my life in the ICU, only to get diagnosed with hereditary gastric cancer right after—the same kind that had killed Robert Sloane, and that gave me three years max to live—that would take way too long to explain.

So I twisted my fingers together and mumbled, "I'm sorry. I needed the clout back then..."

Ethan didn't even let me finish. He didn't so much as glance my way again and walked straight out without a backward glance.

Rain pattered loudly against the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a bone-deep cold settled over me.

I stayed rooted to the spot until the sound of his footsteps faded completely out of earshot.

Then I pulled out my phone, called the Red Cross, and said, "I want to sign an anonymous organ donation agreement for my heart."

Ethan, I once promised I'd marry you when I turned 28.

But I can't keep that promise now.

Your heart won't ever beat for me again.

So let mine keep beating for you, inside your chest.