Chapter 8

Gemma opened her eyes to find herself lying in the guest room of Theodore's house. The wound on her forehead had been bandaged, and her soaked clothes had been replaced with clean pajamas. She raised a hand to her chest, where she could barely feel her heartbeat anymore. The door suddenly swung open, and a bodyguard stood in the doorway, his voice cold. "You're awake? Mr. Barre said he and Ms. Palmer are meeting his parents today. You're to stay put." Gemma didn't answer, her eyes resting on the view outside the window. Today was the last day her artificial heart would keep beating—the day her life would end. At that thought, a faint, almost relieved smile touched her lips. She slowly sat up, the artificial heart emitting a weak beep like a countdown to the inevitable. "I want to go out," she said softly. The bodyguard frowned. "No. Mr. Barre said…" "Just to buy a few things," Gemma interrupted calmly. "You can come with me." The bodyguard hesitated, but finally agreed. After all, Theodore had only ordered them to prevent her from committing suicide, not to keep her from leaving the house. The sunlight was warm that day. She first went to a photo studio. "A memorial photo?" The photographer stared at the young, beautiful woman in disbelief. "Are you sure, miss?" "Yes." She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I'll need it today." After the photo was taken, she visited a funeral home, selecting the simplest coffin and a burial plot. The grave was right beside her parents'. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cold surface of their two headstones. "Mom, Dad… I'll be with you soon." Finally, she stepped to the third, empty plot, where a coffin waited. With a faint smile, she lay down inside. Sunlight bathed her pale face as she closed her eyes, her heartbeat fading with each beat. "Mr. Barre..." A bodyguard's trembling voice came through the phone. "Ms. Hodge... she... she's lying in the coffin..." Theodore's icy tone cut through the line. "Put her on." The bodyguard held the phone to her ear. "Gemma, what kind of stunt are you pulling now?" His voice simmered with suppressed rage. "You really think you can die just by lying in a coffin? Are you planning to bash your head in or suffocate yourself in there? Listen closely—my men are watching your every move. You're not going to die, no matter what." Gemma felt her heartbeat growing weaker, her breathing becoming difficult. She smiled faintly. "Theodore… I'm afraid this time you'll be disappointed. My time is running out… There's nothing you can do to stop it." Theodore scoffed. "Go ahead. Try." She let her eyelids drift shut, the ghost of a smirk lingering on her lips. "Try... I will." His voice still crackled through the phone, laced with mockery, but she could no longer hear it. Her heart stopped. The artificial heart emitted one final, drawn-out beep, and then silence. The bodyguards' eyes widened in shock as they rushed to her side—only to find that she was no longer breathing. Sunlight still bathed her peaceful face, warm and gentle, as if she were simply asleep. This time, no one would ever wake her again.