Hacking the Heart

Chapter 3

The morning Asami was scheduled for her first gene therapy infusion, I decided to treat us to breakfast before the appointment. She hadn’t been out of the apartment in weeks, depression and fatigue keeping her isolated. But today felt momentous - like we should commemorate it with our old tradition of going to our favourite diner on important days.

We slid into our favourite booth by the window, the vinyl creaking under us. Stacks of buttered pancakes and crispy bacon came steaming from the kitchen shortly after. Through the medication haze, Asami’s eyes seemed to regain a little spark enjoying the fluffy pancakes.

“Just like old times, huh sis?” I smiled, happy to see touches of her former vibrant self emerging.

Near the end of breakfast, Asami left to use the restroom. I snagged the ticket book from the counter to pay our bill so we could leave directly. As I scrawled my signature and calculated the tip, a bubbly laugh from a few booths down grabbed my attention. Glancing up, I did a double take at the group of women chatting loudly, designers’ bags piled next to their table. One woman in particular stood out - flawless platinum hair, designer shades perched on her head, surrounded by shopping bags. I recognized her instantly from the yacht company files - Indira Chopra.

Shock jolted through me realizing Indira was one of the celebrity billionaires I siphoned money from. Here she was in the flesh, eating mediocre diner pancakes just a few yards away. The very woman whose account funded part of my sister’s treatment through the tangled web of financial deceit I devised.

My heart pounded considering she could have noticed the illegal activity by now. But Indira and her glittering entourage showed no signs of distress over depleted accounts. Laughing boisterously over mimosas and bacon, they epitomized carefree extravagance.

I took a few discreet photos on my phone, still grappling with the unlikely coincidence of this close encounter. Elated and terrified, I couldn’t tear my eyes off the bejewelled woman fate incomprehensibly intertwined me with. The same woman unknowingly keeping my sister alive.

“You ready, Kai?”

Asami’s frail hand on my shoulder jolted me from my tense reconnaissance. I spun abruptly, grabbing Asami protectively. My wide eyes darted from her puzzled face back to Indira who continued chatting, oblivious to the invisible connection between her and the humbly dressed pair exiting the diner.

“Is everything ok?” Asami frowned.

“Yeah, all good!” I plastered a fake smile across my face. “Let’s get you to your appointment.”

I ushered Asami out to get a taxi, desperately hoping that the surreal close call was a one-off bit of cosmic coincidence. Being so near my unintentional donor rattled me harder than I cared to process. What mattered most was getting Asami to her infusion. Everything else, including facing the ethical turmoil churning inside me over this chance restaurant encounter, I pushed down deep. Ignoring it would allow me to keep powering forward - no looking back. Asami's second chance waited ahead at the hospital doors. The rest I could deal with later.

“I still can't believe it,” Asami said, shaking her head as I drove us to the hospital. “Some stranger just stepping up out of the blue to pay for all this. It doesn't seem real.”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Well, believe it,” I replied. “I told you I'd take care of everything and I meant it.”

“I know, I know. Sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful...” She trailed off for a moment. “Do you think you'll ever tell me who it is?”

My heartbeat quickened. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the road. “The donor wished to remain anonymous. Maybe down the road, but I made a promise.”

Asami leaned her head against the passenger window, looking small and fragile in the oversized hoodie engulfing her skinny frame. “A mystery philanthropist swooping into the rescue. Like a movie plot or something, you know?”

I forced a tight chuckle. “Yeah, a real Hollywood storyline.”

We made transit in silence the rest of the way. The hospital loomed, sterile and imposing. Helping Asami from the car, we made our way slowly inside, my arm firmly around her waist. The receptionist checked us in perkily and led us back to an infusion suite. As a nurse got Asami prepped and settled, I paced the hallway, cell phone in hand.

On an encrypted messaging app disguised cleverly as an ordinary weather notification widget, I shot an update to my underground contacts. The coded language informed them funds from Ms. Indira had been transferred successfully and subsequent rounds were soon to follow. The mysterious brokers facilitating these donations replied swiftly confirming all was in motion per the agreement. Our veiled dialogue concluded, I tucked the phone away, pulse still racing.

“You okay out here, Kai?”

Asami's nurse appeared. “Your sister is all setup and ready to begin whenever you want to join her.”

With a strained smile, I followed her through the double doors, leaving the world of secrets and lies behind. At Asami's side, holding her hand as the IV dripped precious hope into her battered veins, I pushed away nagging guilt. She would live because of what I'd done. My methods didn't matter. I could deal with the darkness of it all later.

That night after getting Asami settled back home, sleep evaded me. Thoughts of running into Indira kept replaying on a torturous loop. I had to know more about this woman's fate dangerously intertwined with my sister’s survival.

Propped up with pillows in bed, I grabbed my laptop, fingers hesitating for a moment before typing Indira’s full name into the search bar. Hundreds of glossy photos and gossipy articles populated right away. One of the youngest female billionaires in the world thanks to her popular makeup brand. I filtered past all the superficial PR fluff, digging for substance.

Buried among the website links I discovered the Indira Chopra Foundation which funded orphanages, child hunger charities, and medical programs across several impoverished countries. And recently she established a non-profit for young cancer patients unable to afford treatment. My stomach dropped reading details of her organization’s mission to provide research grants and therapy scholarships specifically to kids battling leukaemia - kids like my Asami.

Slamming the laptop closed, I shoved it away as anxiety constricted my chest. This woman I robbed was using that wealth I pilfered to save others just like my sister. The stark irony and hypocrisy of it gut-punched me. What gave me the right to play judge and jury, deciding whose money gets redirected where?

I leapt from bed, skin crawling with self-disgust. Crossing the dark apartment hallway to Asami’s room, I watched my sleeping sister’s silhouette barely rising with each laboured breath. The weight of her reliance on my cybercrime sat heavy on my conscience now. But going back wasn’t an option. Not when we battled day by day so tenuously for her weakened grip on life. These pandemic days already took so much; I refused to lose my only family left too.

Leaning against the doorframe, I whispered into the darkness, “I wish there was another way, Asami. Another choice to save you. Can you forgive what I’ve done, if you ever find out?”

No response except my sister’s raspy inhale and exhale. Yet strangely, witnessing her enduring fight subdued my brewing angst. Tomorrow Asami would wake grateful to hug another sunrise - oblivious still to the deceit that afforded this dawn. And for as long as necessary, I resolved to maintain the charade masking my cyber criminality if it meant preserving my sister’s shot at life. What she didn’t know allowed me to push forward, overriding creeping shame for Indira’s sake too. Surviving absolved all sins, I reasoned. But convincing my conflicted conscience might take more work.