My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on.

She needed a transplant. Fast.

But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead.

That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope.

That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time.

All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her."

Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way.

And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.

When the hospital said Stella's kidney went to someone else, everything shattered.

She'd been hanging on for six brutal months—her only shot at staying alive.

I clutched the doctor's sleeve. "Please, you have to help me. My daughter's dying. My wife runs this hospital. Just help us."

Stella had been stuck in that hospital bed for six months. Kylie barely showed up. Said being director meant she couldn't visit too often—people might start talking.

Every night, Stella cried in pain, whispering how much she wanted Mom. I swallowed it down and never called. Kylie was busy. I figured if I could just hold on, I wouldn't have to drag her into it.

But this was different. That kidney was Stella's lifeline.

So I dropped Kylie's name. I had no choice.

The doctor froze. His eyes blew wide.

Then he muttered, "I'm sorry, Mr. Abel. Dr. Thornton personally reassigned the kidney. She said her friend's son needed it more urgently. Maybe... try calling her?"

His words hit like a bullet to the skull.

I just stood there, numb, and called Kylie.

It rang forever before she finally picked up, already irritated. "Didn't I say not to call me during work?"

My voice shook. I didn't want to believe it. Couldn't. Not Kylie.

"Kylie... the doctor said Stella's kidney was given to someone else. That's not true, right?"

Then came the gut punch.

"It's true. Caleb's son needed it. I gave it to him."

Caleb Reaver.

Everything inside me just—stopped.

"What the hell are you even saying? That kidney was for Stella. We waited six months. How could you just give it away without even telling me?"

In ten years of marriage, I'd never raised my voice at her. I'd always been the quiet one—the one who kept the peace.

So when I finally snapped, she lost it. "I'm the director of this hospital. I don't need your permission to assign a kidney.

"Evan was in bad shape. I helped him—what's wrong with that?

"Your daughter's a kid, so is someone else's son. Why are you being so damn selfish?!"

My fists clenched. I screamed so hard my throat burned. "Kylie Thornton! Do you even know what Stella's been going through? She's in agony every day! And you—her own mother—just gave away her lifeline.

"Do you actually want her to die?!"

"That little drama queen's not my daughter. It's just a minor illness. She'll live. She's just like you—always playing the victim. Evan's surgery's done. Quit dreaming. If she dies, then let her."

Click.

She hung up.

The kidney was gone. Evan had it. Stella never would.

That truth caved in my chest. I dropped to the floor and broke.

When I got back to the room, Stella was staring out the window, silent.

She was six, but years of being sick made her look way younger.

The door clicked. She turned, tried to smile. "Daddy..."

I broke. Took her hand. "Stella, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... This is all my fault."

I hated myself—hated how useless I was.

All I ever did was watch her suffer.

I was her dad. I was supposed to keep her safe.

She reached up and brushed my tears away, her voice barely a whisper. "Daddy, I heard the doctor. The kidney went to someone else."

I held her and fell apart. "I'm useless. I couldn't protect you."

She shook her head, weak but stubborn. "Daddy, I don't blame you. You've been trying so hard these six months. Don't cry. I don't hurt..."

She was lying.

She was drenched in cold sweat. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't rest.

Six years old, and she'd been fighting this for three of them.

And still, with almost nothing left, she was trying to comfort me.

Then—

The machine beside her screamed.

Doctors rushed in. Nurses followed. No time for the operating room. They started right there, hands moving fast, voices sharp.

I'd seen this before. Too many times.

But this time, Stella didn't come back.

The doctor met my eyes and slowly shook his head.

Everyone left.

I drifted to the bed and held Stella's fingers as they went cold in mine.

"Stella, don't leave me. Please. Open your eyes. Look at me. I'm begging you. Don't leave me."

The nurses turned away. Someone sniffed. The room felt hollow.

"We did everything we could... Your daughter still had a chance. If that kidney had gone to Stella, maybe—"

He stopped.

He didn't have to say the rest.

I already knew.

If that kidney had gone to Stella, she'd still be here.

But Kylie cut off her only shot.

And just earlier, she told Stella to stop being dramatic... told her to die.

She could ignore me. Trash my name all she wanted.

But Stella?

How could she do that to her own daughter?

To Stella, Kylie was everything. Her hero.

Even when Kylie barely showed up, Stella never complained.

She'd sit alone on her birthdays, clutching a photo, whispering excuses.

"Mommy's not ignoring me. She's just really busy... Mommy saves lives. She's an angel. I'm proud of her."

Over the past six months, Stella cried more than once, saying she missed her mom.

I called Kylie, asked her to visit.

She always had some excuse.

Half a year. Not one step into the ward.

Now Stella was gone, full of wishes that never came true.

How could Kylie do that?

It shredded something inside me.

I couldn't take it anymore. Pulled out my phone. Called her.

She kept hanging up.

That sick feeling hit hard.

I turned to the doctor.

"What floor is Evan Reaver's room on?"

I left Stella with a nurse and took the elevator up to the VIP floor alone.

What a sick joke. Kylie had shoved her own kid into a basic room downstairs while Caleb's son got the luxury suite up top.

The floor was quiet. I followed the sound until I found Evan's room.

Of course she was there.

The door was cracked open, and I froze.

Inside, Kylie and Caleb were throwing Evan a birthday party.

The room echoed with a cheesy birthday song.

When it ended, Kylie touched Evan's face like nothing was wrong.

"Good boy. You've healed so well you're even singing again. Daddy and I are both here for your birthday. Are you happy?"

Evan grinned. "Happy!"

Kylie lit up. "That's all that matters. I'd do anything for you. As long as you're healthy."

Caleb chimed in, all misty-eyed. "Kylie, I don't even know how to thank you."

She looked at him like they were the only two people in the room. "You don't have to..."

He took her hand. "If your dad hadn't torn us apart back then, we—"

"Don't." Her voice dropped. "I already know. I've always known. I never stopped."

I just stood there, watching them act like no one had died.

That's when it hit me—Stella never stood a chance.

All of it... it was because of Caleb.

He wasn't just an old friend. He was her first love. The one she never let go of.

Years ago, he bailed—broke up with her and vanished overseas. She was wrecked. That's when we met, on some blind date.

She needed a distraction. I fell hard.

We got married. And I kept thinking... if I gave enough, maybe one day she'd choose me.

However, ten years of loyalty, and it meant nothing.

One wave from Caleb, and she ran straight back.

I always knew he still lived in her heart.

And I—I was just a placeholder.

That part? I could live with. Maybe even forgive.

But Stella?

She was her daughter. Her own flesh and blood. And she still did this.

Something in me snapped.

I kicked the door open.