She Asked Him To Cancel Their Daughter’s Surgery For A Game Chapter 02

She Asked Him To Cancel Their Daughter’s Surgery For A Game Chapter 02

They moved Willa up to the Pediatric ICU.

Three agonizing hours later, Everett finally called.

“How is she?”

I kept my eyes locked on the glowing red light above the ICU doors.

“She went into septic shock. Her heart sustained damage. And the kidney is gone, Everett; they already transplanted it into another child.”

Heavy silence stretched across the line.

“Why the hell didn’t they wait for me to sign off?”

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips.

“A donor organ isn’t a luxury hotel reservation, Everett. The medical board doesn’t put things on hold for you just because your last name is Caldwell.”

His voice went defensive and flat.

“Elise, I know you’re upset right now, but it was just a twenty-four hour delay. I only pushed the procedure back by one day.”

“Vanessa’s been waiting years to see that specific sunrise over the snow.”

“If we missed the peak season, she would have to wait an entire year.”

I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that they nearly drew blood.

“Willa waited three years for that kidney. How many more three-year waiting lists do you honestly think her tiny body can survive?”

He had no answer to that.

In the background, I could hear Vanessa’s voice, sounding small and overly delicate.

“Ev, am I causing problems between you two?”

Everett’s voice shifted instantly, morphing into something warm and fiercely protective.

“No. Hey, stop overthinking. Don’t do that to yourself.”

When he spoke into the receiver again, all that warmth had vanished.

“My family owns the hospital, Elise. I’ll instruct the transplant board to keep looking for a new donor.”

“Medical science is incredibly advanced. There is absolutely no way that was the only viable kidney out there.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling sick.

Eight years ago, a horrific car accident had destroyed both of Everett’s kidneys. Back then, he was the desperate one sitting on a transplant waitlist.

And I was the one who voluntarily got onto that operating table and gave him one of mine.

Right before they wheeled him into the OR, he had gripped my hand and sobbed like a child.

“Elise, I swear to God, I will never let you down.”

Now, it was his own daughter’s life on the line. And his solution was to just ‘keep looking’.

As if pediatric kidneys were something you could just pre-order off Amazon, so long as the Caldwell name was slapped on the black card.

Suddenly, a Code Blue alarm shrieked from inside the ICU. A swarm of doctors rushed past me, pushing through the double doors.

I sprang to my feet, my heart leaping into my throat.

Oblivious, Everett was still talking through the phone.

“Vanessa was pulling me from the burning wreck when a jagged piece of metal pierced her abdomen. She lost any chance of ever becoming a mother because of me.”

“I promised I’d take her to see the snow this morning. I refuse to break another promise to her.”

Through the glass pane, I watched the doctors frantically close in around my dying daughter.

“So you kept your precious promise to Vanessa by completely shattering the one you made to Willa?”

“Everett, she is your flesh and blood daughter!”

He let out an exhausted sigh.

“She’s your daughter too. You’re at the hospital with her right now, isn’t that enough for one day?”

Something inside my chest just snapped.

The call disconnected.

Ten agonizing minutes later, Dr. Mercer pushed out of the doors.

Willa’s heart was actively failing. She needed emergency dialysis immediately.

But her tiny veins were far too blown out and damaged.

They tried three separate times to get a central line in. Three times, they failed.

On the fourth attempt, her fragile body convulsed on the bed from the sheer pain, even though she was medically unconscious.

Sobbing against the glass, I was forced to watch them plunge a thick needle into my baby’s neck. Again. And again.

She didn’t even possess the strength to cry out.

That evening, the doctors called for an emergency family conference.

Dr. Mercer, the transplant director, pulled up the national organ donor registry on his tablet.

“There is currently zero match for Willa on the national registry.”

“We’ve reached out to international centers as well. Pediatric donor kidneys are incredibly rare to begin with, and the ischemic time risks skyrocket with overseas transport.”

I stared blankly at the glowing screen.

“What about a living family donor? Can you test us?”

Dr. Mercer paused, shifting uncomfortably.

“Immediate family can absolutely be tested.”

“But her father is already living on a transplanted kidney, which immediately disqualifies him.”

“As for your medical records, though…”

He looked up, and a heavy, sorrowful look shifted behind his eyes.

“Mrs. Caldwell… you are a near-perfect tissue match for Willa.”

Hope slammed against my ribs like a sledgehammer.

Another attending physician sharply cut in before anyone else could speak.

“You already donated your left kidney to your husband eight years ago.”

“If we harvest your only remaining one… you will not survive the procedure.”

I turned my head and looked at my dying daughter through the intensive care window.

“What if I don’t care?”

No one in that conference room dared to say a word.

Every single doctor in that room shamefully averted their eyes.

And in that suffocating silence, I understood.

They had all already made peace with the clinical fact that Willa wasn’t going to make it.