My Heart, His Spare Part

My bodyguard, Grant, took the full force of a speeding car meant for me. In that moment, I realized I loved him. He was my protector, and I thought his fierce devotion was mine alone.

But in the hospital, I overheard the truth. He hadn't saved me; he'd saved my kidney.

I wasn't the woman he loved. I was just the "best option" for his sick sister's transplant.

Every tender gesture, every watchful glance, was a lie designed to keep his organ donor safe and compliant. The man I adored saw me as nothing more than a collection of spare parts.

The love I thought we shared was a carefully constructed trap, and I had been the fool who walked right in.

The girl who believed in fairy tales died in that sterile hospital hallway. I picked up my phone, my hand steady.

"Dad," I said, my voice cold as ice. "I'm ready to consider the alliance with the Powell family."

Chapter 1

Kianna Johnson POV:

The world spun. Metal shrieked, a sound that tore through me. Then, there was Grant. He was a human shield, throwing himself between me and the oncoming car, taking the full impact meant for me. My head hit something hard. Darkness threatened to swallow me whole.

But before it did, I saw his face. Twisted in pain, yet his eyes, those intense, watchful eyes, were on me. Always on me. A fierce protectiveness I had always secretly adored. In that moment of chaos, a profound realization bloomed in my chest, warm and overwhelming. I loved him.

He saved me. He truly saved me.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, waiting for the sirens to arrive, a vision of the future flickered. A future with him. Safe. Loved. A life where his unwavering devotion was mine, and mine alone. It was a beautiful, naive dream.

I woke up to the sterile scent of antiseptic. The hospital room was bright, too bright, and my head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. My body felt weak, every muscle protesting, but my first thought was him. Grant.

"Grant," I croaked, my voice a dry whisper.

A nurse, a kind-faced woman, hurried over. "You're awake, Ms. Johnson. Take it easy. You've had quite a shock."

"Grant," I repeated, trying to push myself up. "Is he okay? I need to see him."

"Mr. Langley is stable, but he sustained more serious injuries. He's down the hall," she explained, gently pushing me back. "You really should rest."

I ignored her. My heart hammered with a desperate urgency. "Which room?"

She sighed, seeing the stubbornness in my eyes. "Room 307. But please, be careful."

I swung my legs over the bed, wincing as pain shot through my ribs. Clad in a flimsy hospital gown, I shuffled out, clinging to the cold metallic railing of the hallway. Each step was a battle, but I had to see him. I had to tell him.

Room 307. The door was ajar. I paused,