Chapter 6

Lorinne was already seated beside him.

Lawrence pulled her chair closer to his, leaving barely any space between them. He rested an arm behind her chair, and his fingers occasionally brushed her shoulder whenever she moved.

It was such a small gesture, but I knew it. He used to do that for me.

Now he did it for her.

I sat at the opposite end of the table by myself. Mom and Dad stood behind Lawrence and Lorinne. They looked serious and uncomfortable, but neither came over to sit beside me.

A reporter raised his microphone. “Don Santiago, can you explain why the donor lungs were redirected? The public wants to understand why a matching organ was given to another patient instead of your wife.”

Lawrence calmly took the microphone. He looked completely composed.

Of course he did.

He'd spent his entire life dealing with powerful people, angry rivals, and dangerous situations. A room full of reporters wasn't going to scare him.

“As the head of the Santiago Legacy, I made the decision based on the information available to me at the time,” he said. “The other patient also needed a transplant, and I believed the situation had to be handled carefully.”

The other patient.

He didn't say Lorinne's name. He didn't say mine either.

“My wife's condition was complicated,” he continued. “There were serious concerns about whether she could survive the procedure.”

Lorinne's fingers tightened around his sleeve, and Lawrence immediately looked down at her.

“Don't worry,” he murmured. “None of this is your fault. Don't let what people are saying get into your head. I'll take care of it.”

His voice was so gentle that it almost broke me.

A reporter turned toward me. “Donna, do you agree with your husband's explanation?”

The microphone was pushed close to my face.

I looked at Lawrence, then at Lorinne, and finally at my parents.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

A few reporters lowered their cameras.

I continued, “Lawrence is very responsible.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“He's always been responsible. Especially when it comes to his little mistress Lorinne.”

The room went silent.

I could hear cameras clicking, and Lawrence's jaw tightened.

“Stella.”

I didn't stop.

“You told me there were no matching lungs. You told me I'd have to keep waiting. You held my hand and told me to be patient.” My throat tightened as I forced myself to continue. “And then I found out you signed the papers that sent those lungs to her.”

Lorinne started crying.

Lawrence immediately pulled her closer.

“Enough!” he said.

I laughed weakly. “Why? Because she's crying?”

His eyes turned cold. “She's recovering from major surgery. Stop dragging her into this.”

“I was recovering too.” My voice cracked. “I've been fighting to breathe for years!”

Lawrence suddenly stood and slammed his palm against the table. “You're emotional again!”

I turned toward the cameras. “My husband chose my orphan cousin over me. My parents supported him, and everyone expected me to smile and understand.”

Lorinne covered her face. “Lawrence, please. Don't fight with her.”

He immediately turned to her. “I'm not fighting, baby. I'm right here.”

Then he looked back at me, and his expression hardened again.

“Sit down.”

My vision started to blur. I tried to breathe slowly, but my lungs wouldn't cooperate. My chest tightened until every breath became a struggle.

“Stella!” someone shouted.

I gripped the edge of the table, but my knees suddenly gave out and I hit the floor hard.

Someone screamed.

I tasted blood.

The room exploded into movement. Reporters rushed closer, cameras flashing while people shouted for them to back away.

Mom suddenly panicked. “Stop filming her! She's exaggerating this! She just wants attention!”

Dad stepped in front of the cameras.

Lawrence dropped to one knee beside me, but there was no fear on his face. Only frustration.

“Stella, stop this,” he said sharply. “Enough! Don't turn this into another performance just because you're angry.”

I stared at him through my blurred vision.

Even now, he thought I was pretending.

A weak smile touched my lips.

At least the cameras were still recording.

At least this time, everyone had seen what happened.

Dr. Samuel suddenly pushed through the crowd with the emergency team. “Move back!”

Someone pulled Lawrence away.

I heard the monitor screaming beside me. Hands pressed against my chest while the medical team worked desperately to keep me alive.

“Clear!”

My body jolted.

Everything became distant. The lights above me blurred, and the voices around me slowly faded.

“Stella Marcel Santiago, Female, twenty-eight years old. Time of death, 11:35 a.m.”