No Mercy on My Operating Table

Summary

The day I turned thirteen, I finally got the call. A heart was waiting. A second chance at a life that had barely begun.

But ten minutes before they were scheduled to wheel me into the operating room, the dream evaporated. A nurse walked in, her face pale, and told us the donor heart had been "requisitioned" for an emergency.

The recipient was the only daughter of Chicago’s most powerful billionaire.

I watched my parents fall to their knees, their spirits breaking right there on the sterile linoleum. They sobbed, pressing their foreheads to the floor.