A Mother's Final Gift

The aftermath of the car crash left my mother battling life-threatening internal bleeding. Swiftly, she was whisked into the operating room. Desperate for help, I implored my fiancé, renowned surgeon Hunter Miller, to personally take charge of her operation. He assured me he would. Yet, as the doors swung shut, I watched him veer into a different surgical theater. I waited in the corridor, knees pressed to the cold floor, pleading for my mother's recovery. But when dawn broke, a chilling sight awaited. Her body, now lifeless and shrouded in white. Stricken by grief, I lunged forward, aching to see her. However, Hunter's protégé, Claire Stone, blocked my path. Through the cloth, a jagged cut on her chest caught my eye, raising alarms. At the same time, Hunter was engrossed in a procedure, giving Claire's son a new heart. The source? My mother's own heart. I stared at her pallid face, despair closed in, and, as darkness hovered at the edges of my vision, Claire's grip refused to loosen. "Release me! Please, let go! I must see her. This can't be! Hunter assured me the surgery was to be routine, to resolve the bleeding. How could she have died?" My wails echoed through the hospital corridors. Claire ignored my screams, silently directing others to spirit my mother's body away. Crumbled on the ground, I noticed, through the crimson-stained sheet, the gaping incision, hollowed out within her chest. Her heart was missing! The bond between a mother and her child runs deep, explaining the searing ache in my chest as I waited outside that heartless door! Panic surged through me as I lunged, desperate to unveil the truth concealed beneath the sheet. But just as my fingers grasped the fabric, Claire yanked me back by my hair, summoning security to hem me in. "Ms. Foster, it's time to show respect for the deceased and let her rest. Disturbing her further is unfair." Her voice was devoid of warmth, laced with a shadow of triumph. I met her gaze, eyes aflame with rage. "Something's amiss with that surgery! I have every right to uncover the truth as family! Where is Hunter?" With a sneer, Claire taunted, "Prof. Miller's too occupied saving lives to see you right now." Helpless, as my mother's form disappeared from view, I dialed Hunter repetitively, hands shaking. 99 calls, each one dismissed. Yet he had time to update his f*******:. A post displayed him in scrubs, holding a young boy's hand, wishing him a full and healthy life. The patient's name was Nate Stone, the procedure a heart transplant. Claire's son, afflicted with a congenital defect. The horrific realization hit me heavily, piecing together the earlier incision I had glimpsed. Nate had spent a decade on the transplant list with no luck, so how was it that a donor suddenly appeared just as my mom was being taken into surgery? Fueled by desperation, I lunged at Claire, my hands clamping around her throat. "Where did your son's heart come from? What happened to my mom?" Claire gasped for air as I held on, but then Hunter stormed out of the operating room and shoved me away with force. My head slammed against the wall, and I felt the warm trickle of blood on my forehead, but Hunter didn't even glance my way. Instead, he tended to the red marks on Claire's neck with gentle care, concern etched in his eyes.