Chapter 5 - The Gift of Life
The prep room for the operating theater was cold, but for the first time in months, I didn't feel the chill.
Chloe sat beside me, holding my hand, while Dr. Jenkins and her team of transplant surgeons bustled around us, preparing the sterile fields and checking the compatibility charts one final time.
"The donor network has cleared the organ, Maya," Dr. Jenkins said, a brilliant, genuine smile lighting up her face. "The kidney is on its way from Midway Airport right now in a medical transport vehicle. We are scheduled to go under in thirty minutes."
"I can't believe it's actually happening," I whispered.
"It’s happening," Chloe said, squeezing my hand. "And you don't have to worry about a thing. I’ve already moved your savings to a secure, private trust account that only you and I can access. The house in Oak Brook is being foreclosed on next month because they can't pay the mortgage without your money, but that’s not your problem anymore."
"What about the trial?" I asked.
"Evelyn is staying in Cook County Jail," Chloe said, her voice firm. "Her lawyer tried to negotiate a plea deal this morning, offering to have her plead guilty to lesser charges if you agreed to write a letter of leniency. Arthur told them to go to hell. They’re going to trial, and with that video evidence, she’s looking at twenty to thirty years. Richard is trying to cooperate with the prosecution to save himself, but the state is playing hardball. They want both of them."
"And Connor?"
"Connor’s 'brand' is completely bankrupt," Chloe smiled. "His investors pulled out within an hour of the video going viral. He’s currently working at a fast-food restaurant in Cicero just to pay for his legal representation. He’s learning what 'ordinary work' feels like."
I let out a long, clean breath. The weight that had been sitting on my chest for my entire life—the invisible, crushing burden of being my family's provider, their victim, their scapegoat—finally evaporated.
"We’re ready, Maya," Dr. Jenkins said, nodding to the anesthesiologist.
They began to wheel my bed down the long, bright hallway toward the operating room. The ceiling lights passed overhead in a rhythmic blur, but I didn't feel afraid.
May you like
I looked down at my hands. They were no longer shaking.
As the cool weight of the anesthesia began to spread through my veins, I closed my eyes, knowing that when I woke up, I would have a new kidney, a new life, and a future that belonged entirely to me.
