At the high-speed train station security checkpoint, a security officer stops me.

"What's inside the case?" he asks.

"A living donor heart. It's scheduled for transplant in two hours," I reply and hand over the emergency transit pass.

After verifying the documents, the officer is about to let me pass when a hand suddenly shoots out from behind and grabs the case.

"He can't go! That case contains illegal stuff!"

I turn around.

To my shock, it's my brother-in-law, Edward Austin.

Pointing at me, he shouts, "Officer, I'd like to report him! He's my brother-in-law. There isn't anything medical-related in that case. It's drugs he bought on the black market. He's planning to use his status as a doctor to smuggle them out and sell them!"

Armed police officers immediately surround me with their weapons lowered into ready positions.

My eyes redden with panic. "Have you lost your mind, Edward? There's a donor heart in here! The recipient only has two hours left to live!"

He rolls his eyes and sneers. "Oh, spare me the act. My sister says you've been acting suspiciously lately. You're obviously up to something. If you've got nothing to hide, why don't you open it right here in front of everyone?"

Everyone within the vicinity falls silent.

The leading police officer steps forward with a stern expression. "Please cooperate with the inspection. Open the case immediately."

I glance at the countdown timer on my watch. My back becomes drenched with cold sweat.

If the heart is contaminated, then Michael Ellis—the national hero whose life depends on this transplant—will not survive this.

"Officer, please! You cannot open this container!" I yelled, clutching the cooler to my chest with one hand while thrusting the emergency transit pass toward the police officer with the other.

"Look! This is emergency clearance certificate for organ transport issued by the Department of Health. It has the official seal!

"There is a donor heart inside, kept at a constant 39.2 degrees Fahrenheit. If it's exposed to the air for more than three minutes, the cardiac cells will die. There's no reversing it!"

The lead officer took the permit and flipped it over a couple of times. His expression softened.

He was just about to let me through when my brother-in-law Edward Austin's shrill voice rang out again. "It's fake! The permit is a fake!"

He turned right around to face the crowd of onlookers in the waiting area. "Everyone, look at this guy! He's using a doctor's disguise to smuggle drugs!

"There's no heart in that box! It's meth! Meth disguised as medical cargo! I'm his brother-in-law! I saw him packing this stuff at home in the middle of the night with my own eyes!"

The crowd went into an instant frenzy.

Some pulled out their phones to take photos, while others scrambled back, pulling their kids away.

"A drug smuggler? Lock him up!"

"People will do absolutely anything for money these days!"

"Don't let him get away!"

I was shaking with pure rage.

"Edward, you're full of shit! When did I ever pack anything at home? This heart was removed in surgery at 3:00 am this morning!"

Edward completely ignored me.

Determined to stop me from leaving, he whipped out his phone and started livestreaming right in my face.

"Look at this, everyone," he said, forcing a look of utter heartbreak for the camera.

"This is my brother-in-law, Conner Randall, chief of the organ transplant department at Galdoria Hospital. He's a lifesaver on the outside but a drug smuggler and organ trafficker behind closed doors! I don't care what it takes. I'm stopping him right here today!"

Viewers flooded into the live stream, and comments started flooding in.

"Corrupt doctor! Call the cops!"

"Human trafficker! Organ thief! Rot in hell!"

"Kudos to you for exposing him!"

Noticing the situation spiral out of control, I stomped my feet in sheer panic. "Edward, turn that stream off! This is defamation! You can go to jail for this!"

Edward raised his phone even higher, and his voice grew sharper. "Defamation? Then open the box and prove it to everyone! You won't open it? That's because you're guilty!"

That did it. The officer's demeanor changed instantly.

Drug smuggling, organ trafficking, and a named whistleblower report. Any single one of those was too big for him to just let me through.

"Mr. Randall, please come with us for further investigation."

"No!" I held the cooler even tighter.

"The box cannot leave the cold chain! Look into me all you want, but you have to let this box go!"

"Have the platform staff take the container straight to the train! Someone will be waiting at Lythoria Station to pick it up!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

As long as that heart got on the train, there was still a chance.

The police officer hesitated for a split second.

And in that brief window, Edward moved. He lunged forward without warning and kicked the bottom of the cooler.

With a thud, the cooler flew out of my arms, crashing onto the marble floor.

The lid popped open, and the preservation fluid splashed everywhere.

Through the frosty white mist, the donor heart—wrapped in its sterile bag—rolled out, flipped twice across the floor, and came to a stop against the base of a trash can.

"No!" I shrieked, throwing my entire body forward.

My knees slammed into the ground. The pain made my vision go black, but I didn't care.

I scooped the heart up with both hands. Its temperature was rising rapidly.

The preservation fluid was still leaking from the torn sterile bag.

"No… it can't be exposed to the air…"

Shaking violently, I desperately shielded the heart against my chest, wrapping it in my clothes as tears spilled down my face.

Edward stood nearby, clapping his hands together and shrugging. "See that, everyone? He's guarding it with his life. You really think that's anything legal?"

The camera flashes from the surrounding crowd kept blinking.

Four armed police officers stepped up. Two pinned my shoulders down while the other two pried my hands open.

"Drop the item! Put your hands behind your head!"

"You can't take it! Please, I beg you! That's a heart! It's a human heart!"

They pried my fingers away, one by one.

The donor heart was dropped into an evidence bag and sent off to the forensics lab.

I slumped onto the freezing floor, completely drained of all my strength.

Edward walked over and looked down at me with a smirk. He turned off his live stream, leaned down, and whispered in my ear, "Conner, that's what happens when you don't listen."

In the interrogation room, handcuffed to the metal chair, I explained desperately, "Officer! There are no drugs in that cooler! It really is a heart!

"Every single minute it spends at room temperature, the success rate of the transplant drops by 10%! The recipient is a 72-year-old man suffering from total organ failure. This is his absolute last chance!"

The interrogator remained expressionless. "Until the lab results are back, the evidence cannot be released."

"It's not drugs! It really isn't!"

I broke down, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.

"Call our hospital! Call the hospital director, Ms. Carter! She can prove it! A whole surgical team of 17 people worked from 3:00 am until 8:00 am to harvest that heart!"

The interrogator looked at his colleague beside him and hesitated for a moment. "We can contact your hospital to verify, but until the results come back, you're staying right here."

I nodded frantically. "Fine! I won't leave! Just make the call right now!"

The interrogator pulled out his phone and handed it to me. "Dial it yourself. Put it on speaker."

With trembling hands, I dialed Carissa's number.

It rang twice before she picked up. Her voice was frantic on the other end. "Conner! Where the hell are you? Lythoria has called eight times! The recipient's blood pressure has dropped to 60!"

"Ms. Carter!" I sobbed into the phone. "I'm locked in an interrogation room at the train station! Edward reported me for drug smuggling! They knocked the heart out! They're testing it right now! You need to tell the police right now that it's a donor heart, not drugs!"

Carissa lost her temper, swearing loudly. "That bastard! Which room are you in? I'm starting a video call right now!"

The interrogator gave a brief nod, and I quickly switched it to a video call.

Carissa's face appeared on the screen. Behind her was the hospital director's office, with medical licenses and various awards hanging on the wall.

"Officer, I am Carissa Carter, director of Galdoria Hospital. Conner is the chief of our organ transplant department. We did perform a donor heart procurement surgery early this morning. I can provide all the surgical logs and the matching system ID numbers.

"That heart is completely legal! It was allocated through the Red Cross organ donation system, and it has a full set of ethical approvals."

The interrogator's expression softened a fraction.

He was just about to say something when the click-clack of leather shoes echoed from outside the door.

Edward pushed his way into the room, taking a sip from a cup of coffee he'd bought from a vending machine.

"Oh, look at that. Calling in help already?"

He strolled over to my side. As he leaned down and glanced at the phone screen, he scoffed. "Officers, don't let them fool you. This Carissa woman is his secret lover. They've been in this organ-trafficking ring together for years.

"My sister already gathered all the evidence on this. She was planning to report it to the disciplinary committee tomorrow. The only reason he was in such a rush to run today was to get this shipment out before everything hit the fan."

On the screen, Carissa's face turned red with fury. "That is an absolute lie! What the hell is going on over there? Who is this guy?"

Edward tilted his head toward the camera. "I'm his brother-in-law, and I represent the victims here. Nice acting, Ms. Carter. Great choice of background, too.

"But let me tell you something. With how advanced AI is these days, who knows if you're even a real person? For all we know, you're sitting in some rented apartment acting in front of a green screen."

Stirred up by Edward's claims, the interrogator's face tensed up again. "A video call cannot be accepted as direct evidence."

"What are you guys waiting for anyway?" Edward pressed.

"Tear that stupid cooler apart and test it already! I'm telling you, there's definitely a hidden compartment in there. That's where the drugs are!"

The interrogator weighed the options for a moment, then picked up his radio. "Lab, dismantle the cooler and check for any hidden compartments."

"No!" I struggled, lunging toward the door.

"You can't take it apart! The cooler is already cracked from the fall. If you dismantle it, the heart is finished!"

Two officers pinned me down as I thrashed desperately.

15 minutes later, a lab technician walked in, carrying a metal tray. On that tray lay the heart, stripped from its sterile bag.

It had been exposed to room temperature for nearly 30 minutes. Its surface had turned from a vibrant crimson to a dull, dark purple.

The tech handed over a report. "No illegal substances detected. The liquid in the sterile bag is standard organ preservation fluid, and there are no hidden compartments in the cooler. This is a human heart."

Silence fell over the interrogation room.

Edward froze mid-sip before trying to force a look of confidence. "Well, that still doesn't prove he isn't smuggling organs. Who handles a legal organ so suspiciously?"

Nobody answered him.

The interrogator's expression had turned incredibly grim.

He looked at the discolored heart, then back at the lab report. Sweat started breaking out on his forehead.

Meanwhile, I collapsed back into the chair, completely hollowed out.

I stared at the heart on the tray.

30 minutes at room temperature. The preservation fluid was gone. The sterile environment was entirely compromised.

It was over. The heart was completely ruined.

My mouth hung open, but not a single sound came out. Tears just poured down my face.

400 miles away, a 72-year-old man was lying on an operating table with his chest wide open, waiting for this heart to save his life.

Now, he would never get it.

…

The digital clock on the wall read 11:47 am.

The train had left 40 minutes ago. Even if the heart hadn't been ruined, it was too late.

I leaned against the wall of the interrogation room, my body shaking uncontrollably.

The phone in my pocket vibrated nonstop.

The interrogator glanced at me but didn't stop me.

I pulled it out and saw that the screen was flooded with missed calls. 23 from Lythoria Hospital, 11 from Carissa, and six from the head nurse from my department.

There was also a never-ending string of WhatsApp notifications.

Before I could even look at them, another call flashed on the screen. The caller ID read, "Lythoria Hospital ICU, Dr. Oscar Hooper."

With trembling hands, I answered it and hit speakerphone. "Dr. Randall! Where is the heart? Where the hell is it?"