My parents are pressuring me to donate a kidney to my younger brother because I have late-stage bone cancer.
Angela · Completed · 5.9k Words
Introduction
My biological parents even threatened to sever ties with me: "You have a healthy body. Ian has nothing but us. You can't even bear to part with a kidney. You're so selfish and cold-blooded!"
They don't know that my hands, which I used to play the piano, had already been crushed by gangsters while cleaning up their mess; they also don't know that at this moment, I have a critical illness notice for late-stage bone cancer in my pocket.
Seeing the undisguised disgust and indifference in my fiancée's eyes, I swallowed the taste of blood in my throat and calmly signed the consent form for the live organ removal.
"Okay, I'll donate. I'll give you back my life along with it."
Later, I died like a dog on the rusty operating table of a shady clinic, my bones and marrow completely drained.
But when I was truly reduced to dust and left without even a complete corpse... the truth about my vicious foster brother faking illness was exposed.
The aloof and arrogant female CEO who once treated me like trash went completely mad overnight.
She knelt desperately before my nameless grave, plunged a sharp knife into her abdomen, and collapsed in a pool of blood, pleading for me to see her one more time.
Chapter 1
As my fiancée Diana threatened me with our engagement for the hundredth time, I was staring at the diagnosis report of late-stage bone cancer in my hand.
“Evan, Ian’s kidney failure is getting worse. The doctors say he needs a transplant immediately, or he won’t make it through the month.” Diana stood before my desk, arms crossed, her impeccably tailored suit highlighting her cool profile. “The matching results show you’re a perfect donor. If you agree to sign, we’ll schedule the surgery immediately. If you refuse—”
She paused for a moment, and those blue-gray eyes that once said they loved me the most now only held a sense of indifference.
"—Then our engagement ends here. After all, Ian doesn't have much time left, and I want to give him a legal status so that he can leave without regrets."
I listened quietly. I'm so tired of hearing this kind of blackmail.
Ever since my adopted brother Ian was diagnosed with kidney failure, my parents and Diana have seemed to form some kind of sacred alliance, taking turns to pressure me into giving in.
My parents threatened me with my chance to become the principal pianist at Juilliard School—a dream I had earned through ten hours of practice every day, my fingertips worn raw countless times. Diana was even crueler; whenever I hesitated even slightly when I wanted something, she would throw the words "break off the engagement" in my face.
Ian wanted to draw my blood, and I hesitated; Ian took a fancy to the engagement watch that Diana had given me, and I refused to give it to him; Ian got drunk at the dinner party and insisted that Diana help him into the car, and I turned my head away... Every time, it was my fault.
"He's dying, Evan! He could live if you donated a kidney, how could you be so heartless?"
What they didn't know was that my deteriorating health wasn't due to cold-bloodedness, but because I was dying. For years, in an effort to " save " Ian, I was forced to have my blood drawn frequently, and severe malnutrition and overexertion ultimately led to an irreversible terminal illness.
When I refused, my parents looked at me as if I were a monster.
"You're the older brother!" my mother screamed, smashing my sheet music. "You're a healthy baby, while Ian has been struggling in bed since he was a baby! If you don't save him, you'll never be able to touch a piano again!"
The father added coldly from the side, "Ian was born with nothing. You not only have talent, but now you also have Diana's love. You won't even share a tiny bit with him? We'll just pretend we never had a selfish son like you!"
Those words used to lash me like a whip full of barbs, causing me unbearable pain. But now, it doesn't matter anymore.
Whether I die on that cold bed at home or on the operating table, it makes no difference to me. Anyway, no one in this world cares about me anymore.
Diana frowned, clearly impatient with my prolonged silence, and was preparing to launch a new round of pressure.
“Okay,” I interrupted her, “I’ll donate.”
She froze. Then, astonishment quickly turned into ecstatic joy. "You mean it? That's wonderful! I knew you weren't hopeless! Ian is finally saved!"
She was so excited she practically jumped for joy as she pulled out her phone and sent a voice message to my parents in a group chat where I wasn't present : "He agreed! Contact the hospital immediately and have Ian prepare!"
I looked at her flushed face, a mocking smile playing on my lips. I lowered my head and unfastened the Patek Philippe engagement watch on my left wrist—the one she had personally placed on my wrist three years ago.
“Evan,” she said, kneeling on one knee with tears glistening in her eyes, “I will give you a true haven, and no one can take anything away from you anymore.”
I once firmly believed in this statement.
I gently placed the watch on the table and pushed it toward her.
Diana hung up the phone, her gaze falling on the watch, her expression instantly changing. "What are you doing?"
"It's nothing," I said calmly.
She grabbed my hand suddenly, trying to fasten the watch back onto my wrist, her voice tinged with panic: "I was just angry... I was just so worried about Ian. I won't break off the engagement, Evan, I promise."
I easily withdrew my hand and didn't look at her again.
In the end, the watch remained in her possession.
My phone rang; it was my father calling.
Discuss the surgery time with me.
They can't wait.
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