"Rest assured. I'll stay out of your way until the day I die, just to keep your reputations clean."

I spun to leave, just as the upstairs neighbor squeezed past me in the narrow hallway, wrestling a massive dog on a leash.

"Filthy beast! Keep it away from me!" Mom shrieked, recoiling like the animal was radioactive. "Do you know how much bacteria those things carry?"

Her high-pitched scream set the dog off. It snarled, snapped its leash taut, and lunged straight at me.

"Watch out!"

Too late. I stumbled backward, lost my footing on the slick concrete, and tumbled down the stairs. I hit the landing hard. Teeth sank into my calf—white-hot, searing.

My heart slammed against my ribs, skipping beats in a terrifying, erratic rhythm. The hallway lights blurred into gray as oxygen failed to reach my brain.

Not now. Please, not now.

My trembling fingers clawed into my bag for the pill bottle. I popped the cap and dry-swallowed, choking it down.

Mom snatched the bottle, reading the label with widening eyes. "Are you insane? This garbage? Do you have any idea what it does to your liver?"

I slumped against the peeling wall, gasping as the chemicals forced my heart rate down. "I take it because it's cheap. And because it works fast."

Countless late-night livestreams, endless hours of exhaustion—I needed the heavy stuff just to suppress the agony in my chest.

Tears welled in Mom's eyes. "I'm calling an ambulance. We're going to General Hospital right now."

I took a shuddering breath and pushed myself up. "Don't bother. Just pay for the rabies vaccine. That's all I need. I have a stream in twenty minutes."

Dad's face turned violent red. "Work? At a time like this? Is money more important than your life?"

He grabbed my arm to stop me, his grip so tight it tore my sleeve.

Something inside me snapped.

"I care about work because I can't afford a cardiac assist device!" I screamed, my voice echoing off concrete. "Because my parents used their connections to help a stranger snatch my donor heart! Because you'd rather save the world than help me front the medical expenses!"

Silence.

"I have to work myself to death just to stay alive!" Tears burned my cheeks. "Livestreaming is the only job my body can handle. You look down on it? Fine. But at least it puts food in my stomach!"

Dad froze, his hand dropping to his side.

The neighbor, looking thoroughly awkward, shoved three hundred dollars into my hand. "For... nutrition," he mumbled, dragging his dog upstairs to escape the family drama.

He shook his head as he went. Even a stranger understood what my parents didn't.

Mom and Dad stood rooted to the spot. Their expressions shifted from anger to confusion, and finally, to something that looked painfully like guilt.

I didn't let it linger. I limped past them, squeezed through the doorway, and slammed the door in their faces.

I livestreamed straight through until midnight.

My heart ached, my leg throbbed, but I kept the smile plastered on. When I finally signed off, a coworker went downstairs to grab our takeout. She came back looking uneasy.

"Sam... your parents are still at the door."

I went to the entrance. They were still there, shivering in the night air.

Mom stared at the greasy takeout box in my hand. "Sam, your health is terrible. You can't eat that garbage. Come home with us. Mom will make you chicken soup."

Even Dad's tone had softened into something pleading. "We failed you before. We know that now. We'll find a way to get the surgery done sooner. Please, don't be stubborn."

I let out a harsh, dry laugh.

"Was I living well at home before? You were always 'busy with work.' I grew up on frozen dinners and instant noodles. I haven't had a decent meal from you in years. Why do you suddenly care now?"

Their faces flushed crimson. Not anger this time—shame. The memories of their neglect seemed to hit them all at once.

Mom opened her mouth, but no words came.

"If you really want to do something for me," I said, voice cold as ice, "then leave. Don't show your faces here again."

I gripped the door handle, knuckles white. "Because right now, looking at you makes me physically ill."

I slammed the door.

Under the dim streetlights, their shadows stretched long and thin, looking small and pathetic. But I refused to look back.

Not long after, I saw Mom on the local news.

Max, the poor student who received the heart meant for me, was on screen. He choked up, thanking Mom and calling her his "second mother."

On screen, Mom wiped a tear from her eye. "It is simply a doctor's duty," she said humbly.

General Hospital's reputation soared. Mom's professional ranking climbed another level. She was a hero.

She had gotten what she wanted. I assumed I was of no further use to her.

Then my phone buzzed.

Sam, the hospital has arranged a slot for your surgery. Don't be afraid. This time, Mom will definitely save you.

The paperwork looked legitimate. Every stamp crisp, every signature in place. Director Hammond had even called personally, claiming my mother pulled every string to secure this slot.

I debated it for a long time. In the end, I decided to go. I wasn't gambling with my life out of spite. This surgery was what I deserved—what I was owed.

But when I walked into the inpatient ward, no surgeon waited for me.

Instead, I found the people I loathed most in this world.

Max Dickerson and his mother.

I shot a sharp look at Dad.

He wouldn't meet my eyes. Stared at the floor, guilt radiating off him, yet his grip on my arm was iron-tight as he yanked me into a chair.

"Max feels terrible," he muttered. "He wanted to apologize personally. And... if your mother hadn't set this up, we knew you wouldn't come back."

The room went cold. My throat constricted.

"So the surgery was a lie?" I rasped. "Your ultimate goal was to ambush me with this charity case?"

Max stood up to play peacemaker.

"Sam, Dr. Henson saved me, but I know it hurt you. It's not her fault—it's mine. I'm so sorry."

He dropped to his knees. Theatrical. Instantly trapping me in a moral deadlock. If I didn't forgive him, I was the villain.

Mom looked at me with that familiar, heavy disappointment.

"Look how sensible Max is. Unlike you, throwing tantrums over nothing. Let it go, Samantha. In fact, you should help Max out more. He comes from a small town, and fighting rejection post-surgery is expensive. It's not easy for him."

Dad nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. The kid is pitiful. He's had such a hard road."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

I tossed my medical records and the stack of overdue bills onto the table.

"I'm not exactly living the high life either." I said coldly. "General Hospital says without a transplant, I'm on borrowed time. I'm dying."

I glared at the boy on the floor. "Max, if you're so sorry, prove it. Give me my heart back."

Mom slammed her hand on the table, springing to her feet.

"It was bad enough you ran away and refused to come home, but now you're forging medical records to trick us?" Her voice rose to a shriek. "How can you be so vicious? Max is still recovering, and you're talking about stealing his heart?"

I laughed. No humor in it. She hadn't even glanced at the diagnosis. She didn't care about my condition at all.

Even back in the Urban Village, her tears had been nothing but performance.

"Who told me my parents were rich enough to buy a heart for a stranger, but required their own daughter to die for it?" I sneered. "Whatever. If I die, your careers go down with me."

I looked at Mom with open mockery.

"I just don't get it. You'd give your heart and lungs to an outsider, but you're ruthless toward your own flesh and blood."

"I used to think you had principles. Thought you were ethical. But seeing what you did for Max—it's just double standards." My voice dropped. "You're nothing but a hypocrite."

I knew exactly why she saved him.

The election for Deputy Director was coming up next year. She needed the reputation. Saving a poor student from a destitute, single-parent family? Gold for her campaign. Perfect publicity.

At such a critical time, she couldn't risk giving her own daughter priority surgery. People might whisper about nepotism. Might affect her votes.

But that heart was mine. My place in line.

In her scheme, she got the glory, Max got a new life.

And I was the fool sacrificed on the altar of her ambition.

Now I couldn't even afford my medication.

I pulled out my phone and turned on the camera.

"Since you care so much about this poor student, let's make it official. Right now, in front of the entire internet, acknowledge him as your son. It'll definitely pave the road for your promotion."

I turned the lens toward her terrified face. "And as for me, publicly sever our mother-daughter relationship. I'm done being the burden you hide to avoid suspicion."