Giving My Heart to His Love Novel
Giving My Heart to His Love : Read Online
Chapter 1
On the day she decided to leave Dawson Westerdale for good, Adelaide Scivier went to the hospital and anonymously donated her heart to the woman he had always loved.
“Ms. Scivier, are you sure? Donating a heart while alive will result in immediate death.”
“I’m sure,” Adelaide replied calmly.
The doctor nodded and handed her a pen. “The surgery will take place in two weeks.”
Adelaide signed her name and turned to leave. Just then, she heard the doctor behind her say, “Get Mr. Westerdale on the phone right now. Tell him we’ve secured a heart donor for Ms. Jennette.”
“Mr. Westerdale will be overjoyed,” a nurse whispered. “He’s spent years traveling across the country and overseas seeking treatment for Ms. Jennette.”
“Yeah,” another nurse chimed in. “But it’s such a pity for the donor, losing her life at such a young age.”
Adelaide pulled her collar tighter, a sardonic smile touching her lips.
This donation wouldn’t cost her her life–because she was born with two hearts!
When she was born, doctors discovered two beating hearts in her chest. Her parents abandoned her at the orphanage in terror, leaving behind nothing but a note that said, “She’s a monster.”
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Life at the orphanage wasn’t easy.
The other children called her “Double–Heart Freak.” The director of the orphanage always looked at her with disgust.
When she was seven, she was struck with a high fever. She huddled in the corner of the infirmary and heard the director tell the doctor, “Don’t waste the medicine. The world would be better off if a monster like her
died.”
At eighteen, she worked at a bar to pay for college and was harassed by a drunk man.
The man grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward a private room. She struggled desperately, but it was no use.
Suddenly, a cold male voice cut through the noise.
“Let her go.”
Adelaide looked up and saw a man in a black suit standing under the lights. His slender fingers clamped around the drunk’s wrist, and with a slight twist, the man howled and let go.
“Do you want to come with me?” The man in black looked down at her, his gaze distant.
She nodded, driven by some inexplicable impulse, and from that moment on, her life changed completely.
She later discovered he was Dawson, heir to Philadelphia’s illustrious Westerdale family.
He moved her into the city’s finest villa and enrolled her in its most prestigious university.
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When she got a fever after moving in, he stayed by her bedside all night. For her birthday, he gave her an expensive necklace. Night after night, they shared intense intimacy, his warm breath brushing her ear.
Yet he never said “I love you.”
One day, Adelaide stumbled into Dawson’s study–room she had always been forbidden to enter.
There, she discovered that the walls were covered with photos of another girl.
The girl stood under the maple trees in her school uniform; she held a trophy on stage; she tilted her head and gave a peace sign to the
camera…
It was Gillian Jennette–the girl Dawson had known since childhood.
Gillian had always seen him as an older brother, but he’d loved her for ten years.
Then she fell in love with a French painter and eloped with him without hesitation.
That night, Dawson drowned his sorrows at the bar where Adelaide worked. He saw her being harassed, rescued her, and then used her to patch up his shattered heart.
Adelaide’s fingertips traced the photos gently, and suddenly, everything made sense.
No wonder Dawson always stroked her hair–it was blonde, just like Gillian’s.
No wonder he always made her wear white dresses–that was Gillian’s
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favorite color.
No wonder he stared at her face intently after sex–he was imagining the woman he loved most lying beside him.
Fate played a cruel trick. Just a month after Adelaide discovered those photos, Gillian returned.
She came back to Dawson with a failing heart and a body covered in
scars.
Dawson was consumed by anxiety over her illness. During the day, he stayed by her side, never leaving her alone. At night, he buried himself in medical journals from across the globe, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion–all for a sliver of hope.
Adelaide noticed everything.
Watching the man who once protected her from everything now pour his heart into another girl, she felt a sharp, bitter pain.
In the end, she made a decision.
She would give her extra heart to Gillian, allowing Dawson to be with the woman he truly loved, as repayment for his protection and care over the years.
After all, he had no idea she was born with two hearts.
After one of her hearts was taken, he would believe she was dead and could love Gillian without restraint.
When her thoughts cleared, Adelaide found herself outside Gillian’s hospital room.
Through the glass window, she saw Dawson carefully feeding Gillian
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His movements were impossibly gentle, his eyes filled with a tenderness Adelaide had never seen before.
“Daws.” Gillian’s voice was thick with tears. “Am I really going to die?”
Dawson gently wiped her tears away. “No. I’ve had people searching the world for a matching heart. We will find one.”
Just then, his phone rang.
“What? You found one?” His voice rose sharply, excitement flashing across his usually composed face. “Schedule the surgery immediately! Transfer 150 million dollars to the donor’s account as soon as it’s over!”
Gillian’s eyes lit up. She grabbed Dawson’s wrist. “You really found a donor? I’m going to be fine?”
“Yes.” Dawson pulled her into his arms, his chin brushing her hair. “I’m here. I won’t let you die.”
“Daws…” Gillian leaned against his chest, her voice soft. “Even though the donor’s doing it for money, we should still thank their family.”
Dawson kissed the top of her head. “Just rest for the surgery. Leave everything else to me.”
He patted her back gently, lulling her to sleep like a child.
Only when Gillian’s breathing grew steady did he rise to his feet, moving carefully.
The moment the ward door opened, Dawson froze.
Adelaide was standing right outside.
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He looked stunned. “Addie? What are you doing at the hospital?”
Adelaide lowered her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “I caught a cold. I’m here for a check–up.”
Dawson’s gaze lingered on her pale face for a moment. He frowned slightly but didn’t ask any more questions.
“Perfect timing. Gilly’s been craving mushroom soup, and yours is the best. Go make some now.” He glanced at his watch and added, “That way, she can have it as soon as she wakes.”
Adelaide stood rooted to the spot.
She remembered the last time she had a 39°C fever–Dawson just told his assistant to drop off some medicine.
But now, he was carefully planning the exact moment Gillian would drink her soup.
“Alright,” she replied, voice hoarse.
In the kitchen, Adelaide chopped the mushrooms mechanically.
The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board was soft but distinct in the empty room.
Steam billowed onto her hands, blistering her skin, but she felt nothing.
When the soup was ready, Dawson came to collect it. He took the thermal container without a word of thanks, then turned and walked
away.
As she watched him hurry away to deliver the soup to Gillian, Adelaide felt a hollow ache tear through her chest.
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After leaving the hospital, she went to the passport office to make sure her passport was ready for her trip to France.
Then she visited the suburban funeral home and bought a plain white
urn.
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Finally, she stopped by a supermarket and bought a can of infant formula.
Back home, she poured the formula into the urn. The fine, pale powder looked just like ashes.
When the time came, Dawson would believe these were her ashes.
She carefully hid the urn deep in the wardrobe, and just as she closed the door, the front door was kicked open with a crash.
Posted Feb 14, 2026, 8:15 AM UTC