There was a knock on the door again, pulling Lucian from the deep abyss of his thoughts. This time, it wasn’t the lawyer. The soft but distinct sound of the knock seemed heavier, like the weight of what was about to happen was already pressing down on the world around him.
The door creaked open slowly, and a doctor stepped inside, holding a folder of paperwork in his hands. His movements were tentative, and his expression was filled with nervous apprehension, as if he were about to do something deeply wrong. Something irreversible.
“Mr. Kane,” the doctor began, but Lucian raised a hand, cutting him off before he could continue.
“It’s Lucian,” he corrected, his voice calm yet detached. “I’m not attached to the Kane name anymore. Just call me Lucian.”
The doctor blinked, visibly taken aback by the request. The name Kane carried weight, power, and legacy. But here stood a man who had willingly discarded it, as if it meant nothing. The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly as he approached the small table near Lucian’s chair, laying the folder down.
“Mr. Lucian,” the doctor said softly, trying to maintain professionalism despite the anxiety swirling in his chest. “You understand what you’re asking us to do, don’t you? This isn’t a decision that can be taken lightly. We can’t just proceed with a heart transplant without following the proper protocols. And you”
“I know exactly what I’m asking,” Lucian interrupted again, his tone unflinchingly firm but not unkind. His eyes bore into the doctor’s with a calm intensity that made the man’s stomach twist. “I’ve made my decision. There’s nothing more to discuss. Just bring me the papers, and we’ll get this done.”
The doctor hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other as a bead of sweat formed on his brow. His eyes dropped to the papers, but his mind was racing. This wasn’t normal. None of this was normal. “Mr. Lucian… I have to ask,” the doctor said, his voice faltering slightly as he struggled to find the right words.
“Why? Why are you doing this? You’re a healthy man. There’s no medical reason for you to go through with this procedure. Why throw your life away like this?”
Lucian’s eyes darkened, the weariness of years spent fighting battles he could never win flashing through them. He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound almost resigned, and for the briefest moment, something raw flickered across his face pain, exhaustion, and something even deeper, like he had already made peace with the end.
“No need to ask, Doctor,” Lucian finally replied, his voice low and strained, as if he were holding back the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to consume him. “I’m not in the mood to explain anything right now. Just know that this is what I’ve chosen to do. And I’m doing it now.”
The doctor swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to process the weight of Lucian’s words. “Y-yes… okay, Mr. Lucian. I won’t ask any more questions,” he stammered, clearly out of his depth. This wasn’t just a routine procedure; it was something much darker, much more final.
“So,” Lucian said, breaking the tense silence as he stood up from his chair, “when are we doing this? I can’t imagine my ’patient’ should wait much longer.”
The doctor’s hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on the folder. “We… we can proceed now if you’d like. Everything is ready. We’ve already completed your tests, and you have no medical complications preventing us from starting the procedure. We can begin immediately.”
Lucian nodded, his face an unreadable mask. “Good. I’m ready.”
But the doctor hesitated again, unable to suppress his rising concern. “Mr. Lucian, please… are you sure? You don’t have to die to save her. There are other options. You can donate your heart to Miss Avey, but we can also transplant another heart into you.
You can still live. You don’t need to end your life just to”
“I don’t want to live,” Lucian said, cutting him off with an eerie finality. His eyes locked onto the doctor’s, and for a moment, the air in the room felt suffocating. The calm exterior Lucian had maintained cracked, just for a second, revealing the deep, cavernous emptiness inside him. “I’ve already told you, I’m done. There’s no need to keep dragging this out.
I’m giving her my heart, and that’s all there is to it.”
The doctor’s face paled, his throat tightening with fear and discomfort. There was something about Lucian’s tone, something so absolute, that made the doctor feel like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into a dark, unfathomable void.
“But… if you survive,” the doctor began hesitantly, his voice shaking, “you’d be able to”
Lucian’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Believe me, doctor,” he said coldly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “If I wake up tomorrow, you’ll never see the light of day again. I’m not here to survive. I’m here to end this.”
The doctor gulped, visibly shaken by the sudden shift in Lucian’s demeanor. He nodded quickly, his palms sweaty as he fumbled with the papers in his hands. “Yes, sir… I understand,” he stammered, clearly terrified of what Lucian might do if he didn’t follow through.
As the doctor shifted nervously, Lucian’s expression softened just a fraction, his mind drifting back to the task at hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, staring at it for a moment before speaking again.
“After I’m gone,” Lucian said quietly, his voice filled with a sadness so deep it almost seemed to echo in the small room, “call this number.” He handed the doctor a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled on it in his sharp handwriting. “Tell them I’m no longer alive. And give them this.”
Lucian held out his phone, his fingers lingering on it for a moment before releasing it into the doctor’s trembling hand. “The person on the other end… he’ll know what to do. Tell him to check my gallery. He knows my password.” Lucian’s voice wavered, just for a second, as he added, “It’s my last request, not an order. Please, do this for me.”
The doctor stared at the phone in his hand, his heart pounding in his chest. This was no ordinary patient. There was so much pain in Lucian’s words, so much finality in his actions, that it was almost too much to bear. But he nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I’ll do it, Mr. Lucian.
I’ll make sure everything is handled.”
Lucian’s eyes locked onto the doctor’s, a strange mix of gratitude and resignation flickering in their depths. “Thank you,” he said softly. “That’s all I need.”
With that, Lucian turned toward the door, his back straight, his face calm as if he were preparing for a routine appointment. But inside, the storm was raging. His heart, broken beyond repair, was screaming with a thousand unsaid words, a thousand emotions that he would never voice.
“Let’s go,” Lucian said firmly, his voice steady despite the hurricane inside him. “It’s time.”
The doctor, still shaken, nodded and gestured toward the hallway. “This way, Mr. Lucian… everything is ready.”
They walked down the dimly lit corridor together, the doctor leading the way as Lucian followed in silence. The sound of their footsteps echoed eerily off the sterile hospital walls, and with each step, Lucian felt himself growing lighter, as if the weight of his decision was slowly being lifted from his shoulders. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t nervous. He felt… ready.
As they approached the doors to the operating room, the doctor paused, turning back to Lucian one last time. “Mr. Lucian… are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? There’s still time. You don’t have to do this.”
Lucian’s gaze was unwavering, his eyes filled with an unsettling calm. “I’m sure,” he said quietly. “This is my choice.”
With a resigned nod, the doctor pushed open the doors, and Lucian stepped inside. The room was cold, clinical, the harsh overhead lights casting a sterile glow over the equipment. The surgical team was already there, waiting in silence, their expressions tense and uncertain. They knew what was about to happen, and it wasn’t something any of them were comfortable with.
The door closed softly behind him, sealing Lucian inside the room where his life would end.
“Lie down here, Mr. Lucian,” one of the nurses said quietly, gesturing toward the operating table. Lucian complied without hesitation, lowering himself onto the cold metal surface. The lights above him were blinding, but he stared up at them without flinching, his mind strangely calm.
The doctor approached the table, his hands trembling as he prepared the anesthesia. “This… this will make you sleep,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the machines.
Lucian nodded. “Good,” he whispered. “Let’s get it over with.”
As the doctor administered the anesthetic, Lucian felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. His eyelids grew heavy, and the world around him began to blur, the bright lights fading
