Chapter 2
The sterile smell of the hospital waiting room made my stomach churn. It smelled like bleach and old fear. It reminded me of my own death in that freezing room seven years from now. But I pushed the memory down. I sat next to Everett on the stiff vinyl chairs. Jamison stood by the window, tapping his phone.
Dr. Harrison Blake walked toward us. He held a thick manila folder. My heart did a slow, heavy thud against my ribs.
“Well,” Dr. Blake said. He stopped in front of us and looked genuinely surprised. “I have to admit, this is incredibly rare.”
Everett sat up straighter. He smoothed his expensive silk tie. “What is it, Doctor? Did we rule me out?”
“Actually, Mr. Walker,” Dr. Blake smiled warmly. “You are a perfect match for Rosalie.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
Everett froze. All the blood drained from his handsome face. His knuckles turned stark white as he gripped the armrests. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “A... a perfect match?”
“Yes,” Dr. Blake nodded. “It’s practically a miracle. The compatibility markers are exceptionally high.”
Everett looked sick. He tugged at his collar like it was choking him. “But... the odds. Are you sure? Maybe we should run the bloodwork again.” He let out a shaky, hollow laugh. “I have that massive corporate merger next week. The board is relying on me. The recovery time for a nephrectomy...”
He was trying to back out. The great, selfless Everett Walker was terrified of a scalpel. He loved Rosalie, sure. He obsessed over her. But he loved his own perfect, healthy body more. When it came to real sacrifice, he was a coward.
I didn't let him wriggle away.
I threw my arms around his neck. I burst into loud, dramatic tears. “Oh, Everett! A miracle! It really is!”
He stiffened against me. His hands hovered in the air, rigid and unsure what to do.
I pulled back and cupped his pale cheeks. I looked deep into his panicked eyes. “You and Rosalie... you have such a destined connection. It’s like you were meant for her.”
He flinched. His eyes darted away. The words hit him right in his guilty conscience.
“Elaina, I...” he stammered. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple. “It's major surgery. I need time to think.”
“I know,” I cried softly. “But you’re the bravest man I know. Your true love for our family is endless. You’re her only hope, Everett. If you don't do this, she’ll die.”
I made sure my voice echoed down the hall. Jamison walked over, shaking his head in pure awe.
“Man, this is unbelievable,” Jamison said. He clapped Everett firmly on the shoulder. “You step up to just take a swab to calm Elaina down, and you end up being the one to save her sister's life. You’re a literal hero, Ev. Not many guys would do this.”
Everett looked at Jamison. Then he looked at the doctor, who was smiling approvingly. Finally, he looked at me. He was completely trapped. The social pressure was a vice around his neck. He couldn't say no. Not in front of his best friend. Not when his secret obsession was dying in the next wing. If he walked away now, his reputation as Manhattan's golden boy would be ruined.
His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack.
“Okay,” Everett whispered. His voice trembled, barely louder than a breath. “I'll do it.”
“Thank you,” I sobbed, burying my face in his chest. Against his expensive shirt, my lips curled into a sharp, cold smile.
Three hours later, Everett was dressed in a faded hospital gown. He lay on a gurney outside the operating room. He looked small. The arrogant billionaire heir was gone. He was just a terrified man about to lose an organ.
“Elaina,” he reached out. His fingers were ice-cold. He gripped my hand tightly. “I'm doing this for you. Remember that.”
Liar. He was doing it because I backed him into a corner. He was doing it for her.
“I know,” I whispered. I squeezed his hand back. I gave him a teary, grateful smile. “You are my hero, Everett. See you on the other side.”
The nurses wheeled him through the heavy double doors. The doors swung shut with a soft click.
My tears vanished instantly.
I let out a long, slow breath. The heavy, anxious act dropped from my shoulders. I stood alone in the quiet corridor. The fluorescent lights buzzed above me. I felt nothing but cold, thrilling anticipation. My chest felt light, completely free of the phantom pain that haunted my past life.
I walked over to a quiet corner and sat on a hard plastic bench. I pulled my phone from my purse.
A familiar translucent blue screen materialized over my device.
SYSTEM READY. ACCESSING TARGET DATA.
“Pull up everything,” I whispered.
The system went to work. Lines of data scrolled across my vision. I watched as it bypassed passwords and encrypted servers flawlessly. Within seconds, a new folder appeared on my home screen.
I opened it. It was a digital dossier. Hundreds of text messages between Everett and Rosalie. Time-stamped photos. Luxury hotel receipts. Late-night declarations of their twisted, secret love.
“I can’t stand seeing her with you,” Rosalie had texted him just last month.
“She’s just a placeholder, baby. You’re my true love. Soon,” Everett had replied.
I stared at the words. The old me would have shattered into a million pieces. I would have cried until I threw up. The new me just saw ammunition.
I saved the dossier to a secure cloud drive. I locked my phone and leaned back against the cold wall. Everett was under the knife right now. He was bleeding for her. He was giving her pieces of his own flesh, just like he made me do in my past life.
I crossed my legs and smiled to myself. This was just the beginning.
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