Chapter 3 Organ Donation

When Cecilia woke the next morning, the imprint of Brad's hand still burned across her cheek.

She hadn't dreamed. There was only darkness, then the sterile white of the hospital ceiling. No one had stayed with her through the night. No one ever did.

The door swung open.

Rufus stepped inside, his expression shadowed and cold. Behind him, a cluster of doctors and nurses carried several bottles of medication.

Fear flickered in her eyes. She shrank back. "What are you doing?"

She was used to half a bottle a day for the drug trials. Now, there were four bottles lined up in front of her.

Four bottles meant her life would be drained even faster.

Rufus looked down at her, his voice like ice. "Because of what you did last night, Blair's condition has destabilized again. These are the drugs you will test today—until we find the one that causes her the least harm."

Tears welled instantly. Her voice trembled. "It wasn't me, Rufus… My body can't take this anymore. If I take that much, I'll die."

He gave a short, contemptuous laugh, crossing the room to grip her chin and force her gaze up to meet his. "You've been taking these drugs for years and you're still breathing. I thought you'd finally learned your place, but you still dare to hurt Blair."

Cecilia fought to pull away, but her body was weak, limp, useless. "Let me go…"

His grip tightened until it felt like her jaw might splinter. Tears spilled freely, striking the back of his hand. In all her years of trials and blood draws, she had never cried in front of him.

Now she couldn't stop.

"I've never lied to you," she said, her voice raw. "It's you who refuses to believe me. Blair's tricks are so crude—I know you can see through them."

Whether it was the heat of her tears or the force of her anguish, Rufus suddenly shoved her face away. "Playing the victim won't work. You have two choices—swallow them yourself, or I'll have someone force them down."

Her lips curved bitterly. "If I die from this… If one day you realize you killed me with your own hands, will you regret it? Even for a moment?"

"Until we find the drug that suits Blair best, I won't let you die," Rufus said, and walked out without another glance.

The medical staff moved in, twisting open the bottles.

"No…" Her protest was useless.

—

The drugs hit her like a storm.

Later, she was on her knees in the bathroom, retching until her body convulsed. Faint traces of blood swirled in the water. Her strength bled away; standing felt like trying to balance on clouds.

But as she stumbled back toward her room, she passed an office—and froze.

Rufus's voice carried through the half-open door.

"Is this the only option?"

The doctor's tone was resigned. "Miss Ember's health is deteriorating fast. Instead of continuing drug trials, a kidney transplant would be better."

A chill swept through Cecilia.

Her transplant.

She and Blair shared the same bloodline. If the drugs worked for Blair, her kidney would too.

Rufus's fingers tapped lightly on the desk. "How is Blair now?"

Lyle spoke again. "Her symptoms are worsening. Since last night, Miss Ember has been running a persistent fever. Mr. Chapman, you need to decide soon."

After a moment's silence, Rufus asked, "How soon can the surgery be scheduled?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"Fine."

That single word landed in Cecilia's ears like a silent death sentence.

She didn't remember how she made it back to her room.

Brad was waiting. His eyes swept over her pale face without a flicker of concern.

"I have a document you need to sign."

He pulled it from the envelope. The moment she saw the words, her body went rigid.

Consent for kidney donation.

They were already set on taking her organ.

She shoved it away. "I'm not signing."

Brad's voice hardened. "This is what you owe Blair. It's time you repaid her."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "Owe her? What exactly do I owe? We're both your daughters—why do you treat me like this?"

"Because you're my illegitimate daughter. My disgrace. Every time you show your face, people remember my affair."

Her blood ran cold. "You have no right to speak of my mother. You lied to her. You hid your marriage so you could trick her. The one who did wrong was you."

His face twisted. His hand snapped out and struck her hard across the face—the same cheek, still bruised from yesterday.

Cecilia didn't cry out. She just wiped the blood from her split lip and stared at him.

Brad's chest heaved. Then, slowly, he pulled out his phone.

"You're in no position to bargain. Don't forget—your grandfather is still in my hands."

He tapped the screen and held it up.

On it was a cancellation notice for Patrick's ventilator, scheduled for forty-eight hours from now.

Cecilia's breath stopped.

Two days. She had two days to decide whether to give Blair her kidney… or watch her grandfather suffocate.