Chapter Twelve
Knight
I sat alone in the hospital conference room, my bandaged hand throbbing in time with my heartbeat.
I flexed my injured hand, the dull throb a welcome distraction from the anxiety eating me alive.
Every minute that passed was another minute Brynn’s body was turning against her.
Another minute closer to dialysis becoming her permanent reality.
I’d rather tear out my kidney with my bare hands and deliver it to Dr. Patel myself than let that happen.
The door opened without a warning knock.
Two men entered, both wearing pressed white lab coats over expensive suits, both wearing sympathetic smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.
I recognized the first as Dr. Phillips, Chief of Surgery, from the hospital’s website photos Lana had shown me.
The second, a balding man with wire-rimmed glasses, carried a stack of manila folders and the self-important air of someone used to having the final say.
“Mr. Leahy,” Dr. Phillips extended his hand, seemingly unbothered when I didn’t immediately take it with my bandaged one. “I’m Dr. Phillips and this is Dr. Winters, Director of Transplant Services. We thought it might be beneficial to have a word before the committee convenes.”
I straightened in my chair, hyperaware of every movement they made as they settled across from me. “Interesting timing,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately calm. “Considering the committee meeting starts in less than thirty minutes.”
Dr. Phillips exchanged a glance with his colleague. “Yes, well, we believe we may have a solution that could benefit everyone involved.”
My phone was already in my hand, Lana’s contact pulled up. “You don’t mind if I call a friend, do you? She’s been helping me navigate this process.”
Without waiting for their response, I hit dial and placed the phone on the table between us, putting it on speaker. Lana answered on the second ring.
“Knight? Everything OK?” Her voice came through clear and professional.
“Yeah, I’ve got Dr. Phillips and Dr. Winters here. They want to talk before the committee meeting.”
There was a brief pause. “I see. Please, gentlemen, continue. Don’t let me interrupt.”
Dr. Winters cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at the interruption but pressing forward. “Mr. Leahy, while we sympathize with your situation, the transplant committee has concerns that we believe are valid regarding your suitability as a donor for the Leahy girl.”
“My daughter,” I corrected, my voice like gravel. “Her name is Brynn.”
“Yes, for Brynn,” Dr. Phillips smoothly interjected. “However, we believe we’ve found a compromise that would satisfy everyone’s objectives.”
My jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth might crack. “I’m listening.”
“We’re prepared to approve you as an anonymous donor to our general transplant pool,” Dr. Winters explained, sliding a folder toward me. “Your kidney would go to someone in desperate need, and in exchange, Brynn would receive priority status for the next compatible kidney that becomes available.”
The rage that surged through me was so intense I had to dig my fingernails into my palm to stay seated. “So you want me to give my kidney to a stranger when my daughter’s kidneys are shutting down right now?”
“It’s actually quite common,” Dr. Phillips said, his tone patronizing. “Many donors never meet their recipients. It’s the preferred method to avoid any potential… complications.”
“Complications,” I repeated, the word tasting like acid. “Like a father wanting to save his daughter’s life? I don’t see the complication.”
Through the phone, Lana’s voice cut through. “Doctors, could you clarify why exactly Mr. Leahy is unsuitable as a direct donor to his daughter when Dr. Patel said he’s Brynn’s best hope of a viable transplant because of her blood antibody?”
Dr. Winters shifted uncomfortably. “There are ethical considerations. Mr. Leahy’s criminal history raises questions about coercion and manipulation.
Especially since he hadn’t been in the girl’s life until very recently.
Considering the mother made a clean break from this man, we believe it highly likely he’s using his daughter’s illness as a way to get back into their lives. It’s happened before.”
Before I could stop myself, I growled in frustration. “Her name. Is. Brynn. Not ‘the girl’,” I bit out. “I would never coerce or manipulate my daughter. She’s eleven years old. She needs a kidney. I have one to give. It’s that fuckin’ simple.”
The door burst open with such force that both doctors jumped. Lana Thompson stood in the doorway. Her entire demeanor screamed power and competence. She also looked mad as hell. She ended the call and slipped her phone into the bag looped over her elbow, never breaking eye contact with the doctors.
“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice cool as steel as she strode in. “I believe we should discuss the real reason you’re attempting to prevent this transplant.”
Dr. Phillips paled slightly. “Lana? What are you doing here? Mr. Leahy has no need of a lawyer. This is a private meeting --”
“Is it?” Lana settled into the chair beside me, placing her briefcase on the table with a decisive click.
“Or is it an attempt to pressure my very close friend into giving up his kidney so it can be redirected to someone you deem more… worthy?” The atmosphere in the room shifted like a sudden drop in pressure before a storm.
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Dr. Winters began, but Lana cut him off.
“Let me be direct, then. Dr. Phillips, your thirty-three-year-old son was diagnosed with kidney failure four months ago after years of using untested fitness supplements and steroids that destroyed his kidneys. He’s on dialysis now, isn’t he?
” She leaned forward. “And he happens to have the same blood type as Mr. Leahy’s.
Now, I know all this because your wife told me when I met her for coffee a few months ago.
I have a very good memory, but while I waited for Knight’s call, I texted your wife.
” She turned her phone around to show Dr. Phillips the screen.
“I asked her if she’d heard anything about her son’s transplant and she said…
” She trailed off and stared at the man, silently demanding he read the text.
Kind of like a teacher catching a student passing notes.
When Dr Phillips refused to answer, Lana turned the phone around and read.
“Gerry told me yesterday they’d found a match.
He said a man had wanted to donate to his daughter, but the committee decided he wasn’t a good match for a pediatric patient.
I’m so grateful the man decided to donate his kidney to Donnie.
” She looked back up at Dr. Phillips before reciting the last sentence like a mic drop. “I’m so excited.”
Dr. Phillips’s face went from pale to crimson in seconds. “Different donor. That conversation is completely irrelevant --”
“Is it?” I demanded, my voice dangerously low. “You’re trying to take my kidney from my daughter to give to your grown-ass son? When doing so will almost certainly guarantee she’ll be on dialysis the rest of her life?”
“That is not what’s happening here,” Dr. Phillips stammered. “The committee’s concerns are legitimate. Your background --”
“My background has nothing to do with it,” I snapped. “This is about you wanting to move your son up the list.”
“Brynn could have an amazing life, even on dialysis,” Dr. Winters interjected, his tone maddeningly reasonable.
“Many people do. And the financial burden of anti-rejection medications and hospital stays and surgeries can be crippling. Even with the best insurance. We’re thinking of your family’s best interests. ”
Lana sat in controlled silence, letting them dig their own graves. Then, with methodical precision, she began dismantling their argument.
“Let’s clarify what’s happening so I don’t misunderstand what you’re saying here,” she said, her voice dangerously soft.
“You’re attempting to redirect a father’s kidney from his critically ill eleven-year-old daughter to benefit a thirty-three-year-old man who willfully destroyed his own organs through the abuse of unregulated supplements and steroids.
” She opened her briefcase, extracting a slim file.
“A man who happens to be your son, Dr. Phillips. A man who, unlike Brynn, has had the privilege of living a full, healthy life until his own choices caught up with him. A man who has been on dialysis for months and has no expectation his condition will be anything but stable for months, years, or even decades to come.”
Dr. Phillips’s face had gone ashen. “You don’t understand --”
“I understand perfectly,” Lana replied, her voice like ice.
“I understand that you’re abusing your position to benefit your family at the expense of a child.
I understand that you’re willing to sentence an eleven-year-old girl to a lifetime of dialysis because you think your son deserves a second chance more than she deserves her first.”
I leaned forward, my tattooed hands flat on the table.
“My daughter didn’t do anything to deserve this.
She got sick through no fault of her own.
And you want to punish her for my past? For the fact that I spent time in prison?
I paid my debt to society. I even saved the fuckin’ taxpayers -- like yourself -- the expense of a trial and pled guilty because I was dead fuckin’ guilty. She shouldn’t have to pay for it too.”
The room fell silent. The two doctors exchanged desperate glances, their carefully constructed plan crumbling around them.