Chapter2

I arrived at the hospital and stood outside the ICU for a long time. The nurse said Lily had fallen asleep and told me to go home to get some rest. The doctor pressed for the payment once more, warning that if the funds weren't secured by dawn, the donor would be passed to the next patient on the list.

I nodded and turned to walk out of the building. I got on a bus, having no idea how long I sat there until the neighborhoods outside the window grew increasingly rundown, making me realize it was time to get off.

My sneakers splashed into a muddy puddle.

I pulled out my phone and powered it back on, instantly met with dozens of missed call notifications.

A second later, the name "Godmother Martha" flashed across the screen. I hit the answer button.

"Evelyn! Are you out of your mind? Get back there and apologize to your mother right this second!"

"Apologize?" I stood by the side of the road, my voice so hoarse I barely recognized it myself.

"Yes! Chloe is marrying into true Wall Street money next month! Your mother spending that cash on the wedding is an investment! Once Chloe secures her footing over there, whatever slips through her fingers will be more than enough for your family to live on. How can you be so incredibly selfish? How could you send out such a damning message to hurt your own biological mother at a crucial time like this?"

"Martha," I interrupted her, "Lily is lying in the ICU right now, kept alive by machines. I just knelt on the floor and begged my mother to advance me fifty grand to save her life. She told me she didn't have a single cent."

"Your mother has her own difficulties. That's a trust fund—"

"But she casually dropped three hundred thousand on Chloe's wedding dress and champagne." I didn't let her finish. "If being 'unselfish' means watching my daughter die just so my sister can look a little prettier in her high-society wedding photos, then I don't want this family anymore. And I don't want a mother like that, either."

"Evelyn! You are an absolutely ungrateful—"

I hit the end call button.

My fingertips flew across the screen, blocking Martha's number immediately. I did the same to every single relative who had tried to call me over the past ten minutes to demand "justice" for my mother and sister.

I pushed open the flimsy wooden door to my apartment. The heater was broken again.

Fifty thousand dollars. I glanced at the clock on the wall; there were less than six hours left until the hospital's final payment deadline. My bank account held exactly eight hundred bucks.

With a loud bang, the apartment door crashed open.

Arthur stood in the doorway, his work uniform soaked through with rain and motor oil.

"Evelyn." His voice was hoarse.

I looked up at him. He dropped his heavy tool bag onto the floor with a thud, strode over, and gripped my shoulders tight.

"Your aunt just sent me a screenshot of the message you put in the group chat."

"What happened to your face? Did your mother hit you?"

He stared at the dried blood at the corner of my mouth, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot.

"I'm fine." My voice trembled.

Arthur pulled me fiercely into his arms.

"Lily..." I clutched the back of his shirt as the tears finally broke free. "Arthur, the money is gone... She spent three hundred thousand on a dress, but she wouldn't lend me a single cent to save Lily..."

"I know. I know." Arthur's voice was tight, his rough jaw pressing hard against my hair.

"What are we going to do? If there's any way, even if it means..."

"Let them take their dirty money to hell," Arthur interrupted me. "We don't need them. Honey, don't be afraid. I'll figure something out."

He let go of me and pulled a clean towel off the rack, draping it over my head.

"Dry off and change your clothes. Tonight, Lily needs you wide awake outside that operating room."

I clutched the towel, watching him stride across the cramped living room straight toward the storage cabinet in the corner.

He pulled open the bottom drawer and took out a battered tin box.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" I stopped drying my hair.

He didn't look back as he flipped open the lid of the box. Inside lay an antique pocket watch—the absolute only heirloom left by his father, who had been a watchmaker his entire life. Collectors had once offered astronomical prices for it, but Arthur had sworn an oath that the watch had to be passed down to our child.

He picked up the pocket watch.

"Arthur, no!" I rushed over to grab his hand. "You swore to your dad—"

"If my dad were still here, he'd smash this watch himself to buy his granddaughter's life." Arthur shoved the watch into his inner jacket pocket and snatched his car keys off the table.

He turned to look at me.

"Pack a few of Lily's favorite clothes. Once I get the cash, once she gets through the surgery, we're leaving."

"Leaving?"

"My supervisor mentioned last time that the Canadian branch is short-staffed. They need electricians, welders, everyone." He stared directly into my eyes. "I didn't give him an answer then. Tomorrow, I'm going to tell him we're taking the transfer. We're getting out of here, and we're never looking at those people ever again for the rest of our lives."

The front door clicked shut behind him. I stared at that panel of wood, my eyes burning with hot tears.

I didn't know how long I stood there rooted to the spot, until my phone on the table suddenly lit up.

It was a text message from the hospital:

[FINAL WARNING: 4 hours remaining until the donor extraction window closes. If the $50,000 wire transfer is not verified, the system will automatically cancel your placement.]