Chains in the Deep - Chapter 9

The third version might not be as dramatic.

“I once… had the chance to become that ‘substitute,'” I confessed, “Lucy’s role could have been played by me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Healthy people occasionally worry about the impact of illness on love, but they don’t become obsessed. The reason I’m morbidly fixated on it is because… I’ve never been healthy. I have congenital heart disease. That’s the real reason I’ve always stayed at my father’s hospital since I was a child.”

“When I was nineteen, I wasn’t in school because I was hospitalized for long-term treatment. Later, I couldn’t keep Alistair’s child, which was also related to my illness. Of course, Alistair didn’t know any of this.”

“As for his ex-girlfriend… in reality, there aren’t so many conspiracies and coincidences that allow me to manipulate things secretly. She couldn’t match a suitable kidney donor, and her position on the waiting list wasn’t high. Her passing was a cruel arrangement of fate.”

“My father dotes on me, but he would never commit murder for my sake. Although he did… entertain some thoughts.”

“The coincidence that existed in reality was: his girlfriend’s heart was a successful match for me. But on the waiting list, the person behind her, who met the transplant conditions, was Lucy, who was only ten years old at the time.”

“My father wanted to use his authority to ‘advance’ my name so I could get that heart. I refused. My father kept persuading me, even saying, ‘Don’t you like that young man? If you get his ex-girlfriend’s heart, he might fall in love with you!'”

“Hearing him say that made me even more unwilling. At that time, I was young and proud, with many suitors. I believed that I could make him fall in love with the whole me, not just for a part that didn’t belong to me.”

“I was too naive then. I didn’t expect it would be so hard to make him fall in love with me, and I didn’t expect that later I would lose all my dignity for him, clumsily imitating his deceased lover, transforming myself beyond recognition, yet still unable to move him in the slightest.”

“Countless nights, I regretted why I didn’t accept my father’s arrangement back then.”

“One choice often determines a lifetime,” Marcus sighed.

“So,” he pursued, “why fabricate the lie about killing his ex-girlfriend?”

“Because I didn’t want to die. But fabricating a so-called ‘insurance measure’ out of thin air might not convince him; it needed strong groundwork.”

“I said I killed his ex-girlfriend. If he believed that, then when I said I also ‘controlled’ Lucy’s heart, he would find it easier to believe. Moreover, the real scar on my chest served as ‘evidence.'”

“I see. So the so-called ‘insurance measure,’ the ‘heart connection’… is also fake?” Marcus asked.

“Yes,” I admitted calmly, “In theory, the remote monitoring function of modern pacemakers does exist, but ‘receiving signals and controlling another heart to stop in sync’? That’s in the realm of science fiction thrillers. In reality, the regulation and safety protocols of implanted medical devices are extremely strict, and performing such illegal modifications without any medical staff noticing is as difficult as reaching the sky. My father would never allow such madness to happen. Lucy is a good girl and shouldn’t bear such an undeserved disaster.”

“The scar on my chest is from my own heart transplant surgery. Just a few years ago,” I added.

Marcus nodded, “I also thought it was unlikely to be true. Too… surreal.”

I said, “But in that isolated, life-and-death situation, coming from a ‘madwoman’ like me, you (referring to Alistair) would believe it.”

“Yes,” Marcus agreed, “because your state at the time, your past behavior patterns, perfectly matched the image of a ‘mad villainess.’ That setting seemed reasonable on you, even… very much in your style. But looking at you now, you seem quite… normal?”

“My madness burns only for love.”

“So you only torment Alistair,” Marcus murmured, “That man is truly… pitiful.”

“Hey, I heard that,” I raised an eyebrow.

Marcus cleared his throat awkwardly, “Speaking of which, if there really were so many underhanded operations, it would definitely be a major medical scandal, impossible to cover up, and would eventually be exposed.”

“Exactly. So, there is no scandal.”

“Then, does Alistair know the truth?” Marcus pursued.

“He might have guessed. But neither of us has spoken it aloud. He won’t think of killing me anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because Lucy has met someone she truly likes. Alistair… he’s no longer young. He can’t return to the past, nor grasp the future. Killing me, apart from destroying himself, what else would it achieve?”

“Alistair and Lucy… aren’t together?”

“In fact, they never truly became lovers. Lucy always saw him as a caring elder.”

“Alistair did have the intention to start a new life with her. He wanted to divorce me and then pursue Lucy. Unfortunately, I held him back tightly.”

“He’s a very traditional person at heart. With his ex-girlfriend, his feelings were proper; with Lucy, even more so. Now… I don’t want to monitor him anymore.”

Marcus sighed deeply, “Your way of getting along is truly astonishing.”

I said, “Now he’s just focused on hating me. That’s… quite good.”

“Quite good?” Marcus was incredulous.

“After loving for over a decade, unable to obtain. Hate, however, can be ignited with just a few words,” I looked out the window, my tone calm, “I’ve come to understand. Love is a strong emotion, and isn’t hate too? It’s better than being invisible in his eyes for the past twelve years.”

Marcus looked at me with an extremely complex expression, as if studying an exceptionally rare case specimen.

I smiled, “In any case, that’s how it is. This is the final version, and also… the truth.”

Marcus asked one last question, “Do you remember what you longed for when you first fell in love with Alistair?”

“I remember.” I picked up the coffee that had long gone cold and took a sip, “But it doesn’t matter anymore. As long as he’s still by my side… that’s enough.”

“Alright, it’s really… unbelievable.” Marcus pondered for a long time, finally letting out a deep sigh, “When two people tear each other apart, reaching a life-and-death situation, usually it can’t end without bloodshed.”

“But you two are still alive, even tied together… in a way, it’s a kind of ‘completion.'”

“Like that song says-‘torment each other until old age.'”

A black car silently slid to the café entrance, stopping amidst the fine rain for a while.

“I don’t want to comment further. I can only say, your relationship is the most… unfathomable marriage I’ve ever seen,” Marcus shook his head, with a hint of absurdity, “Are you two… real?”

“Hard to believe?” I looked at the gradually drizzling rain outside, at the familiar car, “Then, Marcus, you should write this story.”

The car door opened, and a man with a black umbrella stepped out, his figure tall and his steps steady, walking straight to the café entrance.

“My husband is here to pick me up.” I stood up, picked up my handbag, “I’ll head home first. Let’s chat again sometime.”

Raindrops pattered against the glass window, trickling down. The bell on the door jingled softly as Alistair Grant folded his umbrella, bringing in a cool, rainy scent. His gaze passed over Marcus, landing on me, deep and inscrutable, like the overcast sky outside.