Her Kidney was the Payment for His Broken Heart

Just then, the door to the hospital room swung open, and Kendra stepped inside.

“Well, look who’s awake.” Her red lips curved into a taunting smile. “How do you feel? Missing a piece of yourself—doesn’t it feel lighter?”

Daisie didn’t argue. She just glared at her, her eyes cold and sharp.

Kendra hummed lightly, setting a basket of fruit on the bedside table as if she were paying a friendly visit.

Then she leaned down, so close that her perfume stung Daisie’s nose, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear.

“I’ve got some good news for you—that useless father of yours is dead. Dr. Wilson—that doctor I hired… Wasn’t his technique impressive? I did spend quite a bit of money to make sure he got the job done.”

Her smile deepened. “Oh, and one more thing.”

She straightened slowly, taking a moment to admire the flicker of pain twisting Daisie’s face. Then she leaned back in again, her tone turning almost gleeful.

“Truth is… my kidney was perfectly fine. Never had a problem.”

Daisie’s pupils shrank.

Kendra laughed softly, savoring her shock, and brushed her hair back with deliberate grace.

“But what can you do? Willard believes me. He loves me. The moment I said I needed a transplant, he had everything arranged right away. Tell me—doesn’t that prove how much he adores me?”

Daisie shook her head in disbelief. “No… No, that’s impossible…”

If that was true, then all her suffering—signing that donation agreement, sacrificing a kidney just to save her father—had been nothing but a joke for someone’s fun.

Seeing the hatred rising in Daisie’s eyes, Kendra smiled even wider.

“That’s right. Hate me. It suits you,” she said with a sneer. “Trash like you deserves nothing better than to rot in hatred. Remember this well—you killed your father. If you hadn’t offended me, if you hadn’t stolen my man, Willard would never have agreed to let the doctor I bribed operate on him.”

She leaned forward again, her eyes glittering with twisted delight. “But don’t be too sad. Your father’s death wasn’t actually that painful.”

Her tone dropped to a whisper as she elaborated, “I made sure to tell Dr. Safman to use less anesthesia. That way, the ‘success rate’ would be higher. You know what that means, right? Your dear dad was fully conscious on the operating table.”

“Can you picture it?” she went on softly, savoring each word. “He could feel the scalpel slicing into his chest, cutting through skin and muscle, touching his organs… Poor thing—his eyes must’ve been wide open, bloodshot, his whole body shaking in agony. But he was strapped down, couldn’t even move.”

Kendra watched as Daisie began to tremble uncontrollably. The former reached out and patted the latter’s shoulder in mock sympathy.

“He kept calling your name till the very end,” she said with a sigh. “Such a touching father-daughter bond. I almost cried listening to it.”

Every word landed like a knife, cutting deep into Daisie’s chest.

Her body convulsed with rage, her wound tore open, and blood began seeping through her hospital gown.

“Oh, right,” Kendra said lightly, glancing down at her with a bright, almost cheerful tone. “I almost forgot. Willard said that once you’re all healed, I might still have use for you. Maybe your cornea next? Or your heart?”

She grinned. “So make sure you stay alive, my little… walking organ bank.”

Walking organ bank…

Those three words shattered what was left of Daisie’s strength.

Blood rushed up her throat, spilling from her lips. Soon, the world tilted and darkened before her eyes.

Then, she collapsed back into unconsciousness.