My daughter had congenital heart disease. After ten years of waiting, a donor heart finally became available.
I immediately called my husband—a heart transplant specialist—but his voice on the other end was ice cold.
"The donor heart can't go to Lily Acevedo anymore. Mia Simmons's son was in a car accident. The heart has to go to him."
"Tell Lily for me that Daddy believes she's the strongest little girl in the world. She can hold on until the next donor comes."
"Charles Abbott! Lily—"
"Althea Pruitt, as a doctor's wife, you shouldn't be saying anything more right now."
"I have to go. I'm turning off my phone to prep for surgery."
"Tell Lily I'll make her favorite sweet and sour ribs when I get home tonight..."
The call ended amid a chorus of voices praising Charles.
I watched my daughter on the hospital bed, her face slowly turning purple, then deathly pale...
In the morgue, as I changed Lily into her final clothes, I saw Mia's social media post:
"Thank you, Charles, for giving my son a second chance at life. From today on, he is Bryce Adams's real father."
At that same moment, Charles called.
"Althea, we're celebrating Bryce's new life tonight, so I won't be home for dinner. Tell Lily I'll make the sweet and sour ribs tomorrow instead."
The phone slipped from my limp hand and crashed to the floor.
I screamed into it like a madwoman.
"Charles, Lily is dead...! You killed her...!"
——
"Althea, what are you yelling about?!"
His voice came through sharp with anger.
"What did you just say? It's too loud here—I didn't catch that. Say it again."
I picked up the phone.
I looked at Lily beside me, her body long since cold.
Forcing my trembling body under control, I managed to speak.
"Charles, Lily—"
"Enough!"
"Althea, are you done?!"
He cut me off brutally.
"What is wrong with you? I know you're anxious because Lily's health is bad, but you can't resent other people's children for doing well!"
"Remember—as Mrs. Abbott, you need to maintain your grace and compassion."
"Charles, hurry up! Bryce is waiting for his daddy to blow out the candles!"
Mia's coquettish voice drifted through the phone. Charles's tone instantly brightened.
"Anyway, Althea, I have to go. You and Lily get some rest. She needs to stay healthy so she's ready for the next donor..."
"Charles, Lily is dead!"
I screamed it into the phone, tearing my throat raw.
But there was no response.
I clutched the phone and realized the call had already ended.
I found Charles on WeChat and typed with shaking hands:
[Charles, Lily is dead. You killed her.]
The moment I sent it, a red exclamation mark appeared.
Charles had blocked me.
I tried every way I could think of to reach him. Every single one was blocked.
Another body was wheeled into the morgue.
The gurney bumped against Lily's, and her rigid body slid off and hit the floor.
Old Mr. Lambert rushed over, helping me lift her back onto the table. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Please don't worry—the hospital has been trying to reach Dr. Abbott, but no one can get through..."
I watched him hurry away, then collapsed over Lily's cold body and wept.
When Lily was first diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I had felt a secret relief.
