Because Lenora had never mistreated me.
She had defended me when Marisol insulted my career.
She remembered my mother’s birthday.
She sent flowers every year.
During one dialysis session, Lenora had held my hand and said:
“You owe me nothing, Coraly. Not even your kidney. Especially not your kidney.”
So I told Talia the truth.
“Yes.”
She sounded surprised.
“Why?”
“Because if Thad manipulated me, that’s his moral failure. It doesn’t erase the fact that Lenora will die without help.”
“You understand what you are saying?”
“Yes.”
I did.
I refused to let cruel people decide whether saving someone else became something I regretted.
But I also stopped being naive.
I told Dr. Oay everything.
The divorce draft.
The strange financial records.
The health-fair testing.
The private investigator.
That was when she revisited my donor file.
And discovered the impossible compatibility.
She recommended postponing surgery.
I refused.
We made one agreement.
If evidence surfaced proving coercion, fraud, or misuse of protected medical data, the hospital would preserve everything.
And Talia would be ready.
I walked into surgery the next morning.
Thad kissed my forehead.
“I’ll never be able to repay you.”
I looked into his eyes.
“You might be surprised.”
The elevator doors opened on the transplant floor.
I should not have been walking yet.
Dr. Oay had argued.
I insisted.
A nurse pushed me in a wheelchair instead.
Talia walked beside me.
We stopped outside Room 814.
Two security officers stood near the door.
Inside, Lenora lay propped against several pillows.
Her skin was pale.
Tubes surrounded her.
