Chapter 3: The Donor Who Wasn't Supposed to Exist

I barely slept that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the words on the medical report again.

A living donor.

My brother's name.

And a consent form described as highly irregular.

By morning, I had convinced myself that there had to be another explanation.

Perhaps the hospital had made an administrative mistake. Perhaps the documents had been altered. Perhaps my brother had been forced into something he never wanted to tell me about.

But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.

I had spent my entire life trusting my brother without question. If I continued doing that now, I might never discover the truth.

After breakfast, I told my brother that I wanted to go back to the hospital for a routine examination.

He immediately frowned.

"You were discharged only recently. Why do you need another examination?"

"I want to make sure the treatment worked properly."

He stared at me for several seconds.

"I'll arrange for our family doctor to come here."

"No." I smiled. "I want to go myself."

Something dark flashed through his eyes.

Then it disappeared.

"Fine. I'll have someone drive you."

"That's not necessary. I can go alone."

"No." His answer came instantly. "You shouldn't be going anywhere alone yet."

I lowered my head as though I had accepted his decision.

"Okay."

He relaxed.

He didn't know that I had already made another arrangement.

An hour later, the family car took me toward the hospital. As soon as we reached the main road, I asked the driver to stop at a pharmacy.

"I'll only be a few minutes."

The driver hesitated before calling my brother.

I smiled calmly.

"Tell him I'm buying medicine."

The moment he turned away to make the call, I walked into the pharmacy through the front entrance and left through the back.

A taxi was waiting across the street.

I had arranged it the previous evening.

Ten minutes later, I arrived at the hospital where my treatment had been performed.

The building looked exactly as I remembered it.

White walls.

Cold lights.

The faint smell of disinfectant.

Yet this time, every corner made me uneasy.

I went directly to the medical records department.

A receptionist looked up.

"How can I help you?"

"I need a copy of my treatment records."

She checked my identification and typed something into the system.

Her expression suddenly changed.

"I'm sorry, but your complete file is restricted."

"Restricted? I'm the patient."

"I understand, but your records were placed under executive confidentiality."

"By whom?"

She hesitated.

"I can't disclose that."

I felt my stomach tighten.

"Then tell me who authorized the restriction."

The receptionist looked uncomfortable.

Finally, she leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"The authorization came from the donor's legal representative."

I froze.

"The donor?"

She immediately realized she had said too much.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned that."

"Please," I whispered. "Who was the donor?"

"I can't tell you."

I placed both hands on the counter.

"I'm not asking as a stranger. I'm the patient whose life was saved."

The receptionist looked away.

After a long silence, she quietly said, "You should speak to Dr. Adrian Vale."

My heart skipped.

I remembered the name.

Dr. Adrian Vale had been the specialist overseeing my treatment.

But according to my family, he had left the country shortly after my recovery.

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know."

Her voice was barely audible.

"But there was a nurse who worked directly with him. She might know something."

She wrote an address on a small piece of paper and pushed it toward me.

"Don't tell anyone I gave you this."

I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket.

"Thank you."

I left the hospital through a side entrance.

The address led me to a small residential district on the outskirts of the city.

The nurse's name was Elena Morris.

When she opened the door and saw me, the color drained from her face.

"You're alive."

I stared at her.

"You sound surprised."

She quickly looked behind me.

"Did your brother send you?"

"No."

She remained silent.

"I came because I want to know what happened during my treatment."

Elena's hands began trembling.

"You shouldn't have come here."

"Why?"

"Because your brother told everyone that if you ever started asking questions, they were not to answer you."

My chest tightened.

"What was he hiding?"

Elena stepped aside and let me enter.

"Your brother didn't just donate something to save you."

She swallowed hard.

"He gave you something that doctors believed could save your life, but the procedure was experimental and extremely dangerous."

"Why wasn't I told?"

"Because you would have refused."

I stared at her.

"How do you know that?"

Elena looked down.

"Because I was there when your brother signed the consent form."

My heart pounded.

"Was he forced?"

"No."

She shook her head.

"He volunteered."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

My brother had always told me that he would do anything to keep me alive.

Perhaps he had meant it.

Then Elena whispered something that changed everything.

"But there was one condition attached to the procedure."

"What condition?"

She looked directly into my eyes.

"Your brother demanded that the truth about your illness never be revealed to you."

I felt the room spinning.

"Why?"

"Because your illness wasn't natural."

The words struck me like a blow.

"What do you mean?"

Elena's lips trembled.

"Someone poisoned you."

I stood completely still.

"Who?"

She opened her mouth to answer.

Before she could speak, the sound of a car stopping outside made her face turn pale.

"You have to leave."

"Who is outside?"

"Your brother's men."

I rushed toward the back door.

As I stepped into the alley, my phone began ringing.

My brother.

I stared at his name on the screen.

Then another message appeared.

"Come home. We need to talk about what you found."

My blood ran cold.

He knew.

He had known from the beginning that I would eventually search for the truth.

And now I understood something far more frightening.

My brother had not only saved my life.

He had been protecting me from whoever had tried to take it.