The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 844

"It looks like a school. What about it?"

"That's Orenth University."

Heath frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Touch your chest. Ask your heart. It will tell you how much it loved that place."

Heath instinctively reached for his chest. He didn't know if the heart liked it or not, but the moment he felt the steady rhythm against his palm, it was as if he had touched burning coals, and he yanked his hand away.

He simply couldn't find peace feeling the pulse of that heart. Every single beat was a deafening reminder of his sin.

"Norton Stapleton... you know him, right? The true owner of the heart inside you. He was a junior at that university. He loved skateboarding around the campus, singing, dancing, and hanging out with his friends. He loved to smile, he was intensely loyal, and he was just a genuinely good person. His grades were terrible, though. He drove his professors crazy."

Penelope described Norton to him, forcing a light and breezy tone, though her chest felt suffocatingly heavy.

As he listened, the color drained from Heath's face. He had never dared to imagine what kind of person the owner of his heart had been. He was terrified to know the truth, yet entirely consumed by a morbid curiosity.

It felt like another soul was living inside his body, beating within his chest, existing with him every single second. How could he not be curious?

But he was the reason that boy was dead.

Heath shook his head violently. "I don't want to hear about him! I don't want to know anything about his life!"

"He probably really wants to go back to school and look around."

"I said I don't want to hear it!"

"Maybe you could take him to see it."

"Then your love is absolutely terrifying."

Penelope brushed past Heather and pulled Heath away. She walked up to Theodore and gave him a subtle nod.

Theodore looked down at the trembling boy. "If you truly harbor even an ounce of guilt toward Norton, then tell me where your father is hiding. He needs to face the law."

"Heath, you listen to me! Our dad is dead! He died six years ago!" Heather shrieked at her brother.

A look of profound agony twisted Heath's features, a struggle far more intense than when he had been hanging over the edge of the bridge.

"My dad... my dad died six years ago..." he whispered.

Theodore let out a dark scoff. "So much for your guilt. Drop the tortured act. You disgust me even more than they do."