Chapter 3 Organ Donation

When Cecilia woke again, it was already late the next morning.

The imprint of Brad's hand still burned across her cheek. Even the slightest movement sent a sharp sting through her skin. Memories from the night before clawed their way back, tearing open wounds she thought had already scarred over.

The door swung open. Rufus stepped inside, his expression shadowed and cold. A cluster of doctors and nurses followed, each carrying 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 from where he stood, 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.

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."

Once, her pain had been only sorrow. Now it was something deeper… a hollow, suffocating despair.

She felt like a plant left to wither on a windowsill, its leaves curling toward death.

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?"

She had once been desperate enough to dream of stealing just three more months with him. She loved him so deeply that his name was etched into her heart.

But now she had nothing left to give.

"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. This time, faint traces of blood swirled in the water.

Her strength bled away. Standing felt like trying to balance on clouds. Her stomach clenched violently again, sending her stumbling back toward the bathroom.

But as she passed an office, she froze. Rufus's voice carried through the half-open door.

From where she stood, she could see him speaking with a doctor.

"Is this the only option?"

The doctor's tone was resigned. "Miss Ember's health is deteriorating fast. Even the most suitable drug will still damage her body. Instead of continuing trials, a kidney transplant would be better."

A chill swept through Cecilia. A transplant.

Her transplant.

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

Rufus's gaze was unreadable. His fingers tapped lightly on the desk—a habit when he was deep in thought. "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. Every delay causes further harm."

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. In her condition, she wouldn't survive the surgery. Her life was nothing more than a tool to Rufus.

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

Brad was waiting, his eyes full of irritation. "Where have you been? I have a document you need to sign."

Her voice was flat. "What document?"

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 with what little strength she had left. "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. It's your mother's fault—she seduced me."

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."

Years ago, Blair's mother, Natalia Ruth, had struggled to conceive. Brad, impatient, pretended to be single and seduced Cecilia's mother, Bronte Thorne, into having his child. Not long after Bronte discovered she was pregnant, Natalia did too.

Cecilia was born first—making her the elder. The scandal drove Bronte into madness. Everyone spat on her name, but Cecilia knew the truth: the man standing before her was the real disaster.

Her breath came ragged. She pointed toward the door. "I will never agree to donate. Get out."

Brad's eyes narrowed. "You're in no position to bargain. Don't forget—your grandfather is still in my hands. I can cut off his medical care anytime I want."

Cecilia froze. Her grandfather, Patrick Thorne, was the only person in the world who had ever truly cared for her. Years ago, after Bronte abandoned her, Patrick took her in. Without him, she would have died alone in the wilderness.