Chapter 3

The hospital door was slammed open without warning.

My parents and Julian marched into the room, followed closely by Chloe, whose eyes were swollen from crying.

Julian shoved his phone right into my face.

On the screen was the text message I had sent earlier.

"Natalie Ward, what the hell is this supposed to mean?"

My father's face was thunderous:

"Do you have any idea that Chloe spent the entire afternoon sobbing?"

"She's offering you a piece of her own body, and all you do is spit venom at her!"

Leaning against the headboard, cold sweat soaked my back.

"She cried for an afternoon?" I managed a dry, hollow laugh.

"What about me? I'm lying in this bed waiting to die. Has a single person asked about me?"

My mother's eyes watered, but her words were razor-sharp:

"Natalie, when did you turn into such a bitter, spiteful person?"

"Chloe is your savior! Without her, you'd already be in a grave!"

"To repay kindness with malice like this—you've disgraced our entire family!"

Chloe sniffled on cue, shrinking behind Julian like a terrified sparrow.

"Natalie, I know you hate me... but I really just want you to live!"

"If seeing my face makes you sick, I-I'll just leave."

Hate her?

Staring at her pitiful expression, I suddenly smiled.

In my past life, I adored her. I even sent Julian away to look after her.

And what did she do? She delayed the procedure nine times until my kidneys failed completely, leaving me chained to dialysis bags with less than two weeks to live.

Before that, I had countless chances to find another donor.

By the time she was done stalling, my window had closed forever.

The suffocating despair of watching my life slip away came rushing back.

I raised my trembling hand toward the nurse call button.

Julian caught my wrist before my fingers could reach it.

"Cut her painkillers starting today."

He looked down at me, his eyes dead and unfeeling.

"You love making a scene, don't you? You love calling the cops and throwing fits."

"We've spoiled you for too long."

"The surgery is around the corner anyway. Endure it on your own for a few days."

"If you don't feel a little pain, you'll never learn to appreciate what Chloe is doing for you!"

A vicious spasm stabbed through my abdomen.

Organ failure leaves the immune system completely defenseless.

Without pain management, systemic stress would send my infection risk skyrocketing.

In the past, the moment I showed a hint of discomfort, he would rush the attending physician to adjust my dosage.

Now, while I was drenched in sweat from sheer agony, he cut my medication just to teach me a lesson for Chloe.

I turned my eyes to my parents. They exchanged a brief, hesitant glance.

Chloe covered her mouth and sobbed louder, tears spilling everywhere.

"It's all my fault. I always upset Natalie. I never should have offered."

"I'll leave right now so I don't ruin her mood. Please don't fight because of me."

My mother's heart instantly melted, her jaw setting hard:

"Chloe, you did nothing wrong! Julian is right! She needs to learn her lesson!"

With that, they turned around, linked arms with Chloe, and walked out.

That evening, the attending doctor on duty had clearly read the headlines online.

When he walked into my room, his eyes rolled almost to the back of his head.

He shoved the thermometer under my arm with zero care, muttering under his breath:

"Some people are knocking on death's door and still act like entitled brats."

"Honestly, you deserve this sickness. You haven't suffered enough."

As he stepped out, his conversation with the nurse drifted through the cracked door:

"That's her! Someone offers her a kidney, and she calls the police claiming it's an assassination plot."

"Total paranoid lunatic. If you ask me, let her rot."

I gripped the bedsheets, my nails digging deep into my palms.

Just then, the head nurse stopped by to inform me that my pre-transplant assessment was cleared.

The next second, Julian walked back in with a scowl.

"Cancel it. Chloe just ran a fever. The harvest is delayed."

My body turned to ice.

Right on schedule.

In my past life, it was always a "fever," "anemia," or "emotional distress."

Once, twice... nine delays.

Right up until I drew my final breath.

Julian turned his glare on me, his patience completely worn through.

"This is all because you threw a fit today! Chloe was so heartbroken she got sick!"

"A girl that sweet can't handle your disgusting malice!"

"You've become completely unreasonable lately. You sicken me."

He pulled out a document and slapped it onto my tray table.

"Sign it. It's a statement of voluntary delay."

"Once Chloe recovers, we'll schedule the operation."

"I won't sign it."

He glared at me, stepped forward, and tried to pry my medical records and ID out of my hands.

During the struggle, he flung me off the mattress.

A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes as he hastily scooped me off the floor and laid me back down.

"Natalie, be good. Stop fighting us. Everyone is trying to help you."

His tone was gentle again, exactly like it used to be before Chloe showed up.

Yet in my past life, he had used that exact same gentle voice to discuss my funeral arrangements.

The moment he left, I locked the door and dialed that private number.

"Arrangements are set," the voice on the other end said. "Transfer the day after tomorrow. Immediate surgery."

"Understood."