Chapter 3
Avery
I don't even remember walking out of that office.
Half an hour ago, I had hope. Now, I had absolutely nothing.
"Avery? What did the doctor say?"
I walked back into her room. Clara looked at me, her eyes wide and anxious.
How could I possibly tell her the truth?
"He... he said your white cell count is too low right now," I choked out, forcing the lie. "You aren't strong enough for the surgery yet. We have to push it back."
Clara froze. The hope drained from her eyes, but she still managed to force a small smile. "Okay. Whatever the doctor thinks is best..."
I couldn't stay in that room for another second. I squeezed her hand, promised I'd be right back, and walked out.
As the elevator doors closed, reality hit me.
There was only one person who could pull a stunt like this. Brooks used his money to find that donor. He could easily use it to make them disappear.
This was his sick revenge for me hanging up on him.
By the time I unlocked the door to our apartment, it sounded like a warzone inside.
Crash.
Glass shattered across the hardwood floor. Maddie was having another meltdown in my living room, tearing the place apart.
Brooks was right beside her, talking in a low, soothing voice, completely ignoring the mess she was making.
He didn't even look at me until the front door clicked shut.
"You paid off the donor, didn't you?" I didn't yell. I just asked.
Brooks frowned, instantly annoyed. He kept one arm protectively around Maddie and lowered his voice.
"Well, where the hell did you run off to when I called?" he snapped, looking at me like I was the crazy one. "I told you to get over here! She could've hurt herself because you refused to help. If you had just showed up to calm her down, I wouldn't have had to pull that match to teach you a lesson. "
"It's just a slight delay with the surgery, Avery. You've played along for ten years. Why are you throwing a fit now?"
My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe. A dry, bitter laugh slipped out.
"A slight delay?" I snapped, stepping over the broken glass. "So her life matters, but my sister's doesn't?!"
"Avery—"
"Do you have any idea how long we waited for that match? She's dying, Brooks! She is running out of time!"
Brooks stared at me. In ten years, I had never once yelled at him.
I looked at the wrecked apartment, then at the girl shivering in his arms. I was just bone-tired.
I pointed straight at Maddie. "Did she save your life? Did you kill her parents? Why the hell is she your responsibility?!"
Before I could even finish, Maddie broke away from him.
She snatched a heavy glass ashtray off the coffee table and hurled it directly at my face.
Smash.
It hit the exact spot I busted open yesterday.
The thin gauze ripped off. Hot blood gushed down my cheek and dripped off my chin. The room spun. I slammed my hand against the wall just to stay upright.
Brooks finally registered what happened. Panic flashed across his face.
"Where's the first aid kit? Avery, don't touch it, you're bleeding bad—"
His voice actually shook. He reached out to grab my arm.
But right then, a sharp, shrill laugh cut through the room.
Maddie pointed at my bleeding face, cracking up like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Brooks stopped dead in his tracks.
The panic vanished from his eyes. He actually let out a huge sigh of relief. Maddie was laughing. Her meltdown was over.
I didn't say a word. I just grabbed a kitchen towel off the counter and pressed it hard against my forehead.
Brooks finally had the nerve to look a little guilty.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, avoiding my eyes. "Her episode was just really bad today. She didn't mean it."
Right on cue, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A string of high-dollar Zelle transfers lit up my screen.
"I'm taking Maddie out to the Hamptons for a few days to decompress," he said, already heading for the door. "We'll talk when I get back."
He shut the door behind him, leaving me standing alone in the middle of our ruined home.
That was the start of our cold war.
I didn't step foot in that apartment for two weeks. I basically lived at the hospital.
Without the transplant, Clara's condition tanked fast. The delay was exactly what the cancer needed. By week two, she was just skin and bones. Her cheeks were completely hollowed out.
One night, I was sitting by her bed when she slowly turned her head toward me.
"Avery?" she whispered. "Am I going to die?"
