"He can't wait, so I have to? Because he's poor and pitiful, he becomes your badge of honor? You pulled strings to give my heart away?"
"What about me? I'm your daughter! I'm twenty-four! I haven't graduated. I haven't seen the ocean or the snow-capped mountains. Why does he deserve to live more than I do?"
My voice rose to a scream. "Just because I'm yours, I have to stand at the back of the line? I have to die for your damned 'ethics'?"
Mom trembled, her hand raising as if to strike me. She caught herself and slammed her palm against the table instead.
"Outrageous! You will apologize to Max Dickerson immediately! Do you realize the psychological damage your selfishness could cause his recovery?"
A heavy thud broke the tension.
Max's mother dropped to her knees, forehead touching the floor.
"Miss, I'm sorry... we dragged Dr. Henson into this... we stole your chance to live..." She wept, shoulders shaking. "Hit me, curse me, but please don't blame the Doctor. She's a saint..."
It felt like a fever dream, and I was the villain.
I watched Mom rush to help the weathered woman up. I saw the undisguised disappointment on her face when she looked back at me.
I laughed. A broken, wet sound.
"Fine. He's your patient. Your responsibility. Your glory."
"But what am I?"
I looked at Dad. His eyes were red, but he stayed silent, refusing to meet my gaze.
"You won't touch your savings to save me because the hospital 'can't show favoritism.' You won't accept gifts. You won't save your own daughter."
"So that's it. You never intended to let me live. You were just waiting to sacrifice me for someone else's son."
The words tasted like ash.
Back when I was on the transplant waitlist, I hadn't dared ask for a private room—terrified someone would cry nepotism. I walked on eggshells to protect her reputation. Yet she'd pulled every string she had, mobilizing decades of connections to snatch away my lifeline and hand it to a stranger.
I shoved past the hands trying to restrain me. A sharp, familiar agony twisted in my chest, but I forced my legs to move toward the elevator.
"From today on, whether I live or die is none of your concern." My voice shook. "Go hug your precious medical ethics. Go save the people you actually care about."
Behind me, the corridor erupted—Mom's indignant shouts, Dad's panicked pleas, Stella Dickerson's muffled sobs blending into a wall of noise.