The CEO Who Forgot His Savior

The CEO Who Forgot His Savior

Gavin

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Seven years ago, I secretly gave Michael, my then-boyfriend, a life-saving kidney. I faked a cruel betrayal, vanishing to manage my deteriorating health and mounting medical debt, ensuring his future. Now, I watch him, a celebrated CEO, accept an award on TV. My old phone buzzes. It's him. "Seven years," he says, "you chose money over me. Any regrets?" My bitter laugh is my only reply, as I clutch my $2000 overdue dialysis bill. Weeks later, we collide at a clinic. He's vibrant, with a new fiancée, Jessica. I, frail and scarred, try to ask for a loan. His fiancée, Jessica, stages a fall, scattering my medical reports at his feet. He reads my kidney failure reports, sneering, convinced I'm faking for cash. At a gala, he forces me to chug a bottle of whiskey for thirty grand. I comply, knowing it's poison. I collapse, vomiting blood, the room erupting. Everyone sees the greedy ex getting her comeuppance. The internet savages me, labeling me a gold-digger. Yet, the vitality in his stride – that was my sacrifice. The man I saved now believes I'm faking illness, mocking my pain. As I lay dying, my best friend finally cracks, screaming the truth: "She gave you her kidney, you bastard! That anonymous donor? That was Emily!" His face, once sneering, turned to horror. But would this revelation be enough to save me, or would his ultimate atonement demand an even greater sacrifice?

Introduction

Seven years ago, I secretly gave Michael, my then-boyfriend, a life-saving kidney.

I faked a cruel betrayal, vanishing to manage my deteriorating health and mounting medical debt, ensuring his future.

Now, I watch him, a celebrated CEO, accept an award on TV.

My old phone buzzes.

It's him.

"Seven years," he says, "you chose money over me. Any regrets?"

My bitter laugh is my only reply, as I clutch my $2000 overdue dialysis bill.

Weeks later, we collide at a clinic.

He's vibrant, with a new fiancée, Jessica.

I, frail and scarred, try to ask for a loan.

His fiancée, Jessica, stages a fall, scattering my medical reports at his feet.

He reads my kidney failure reports, sneering, convinced I'm faking for cash.

At a gala, he forces me to chug a bottle of whiskey for thirty grand.

I comply, knowing it's poison.

I collapse, vomiting blood, the room erupting.

Everyone sees the greedy ex getting her comeuppance.

The internet savages me, labeling me a gold-digger.

Yet, the vitality in his stride – that was my sacrifice.

The man I saved now believes I'm faking illness, mocking my pain.

As I lay dying, my best friend finally cracks, screaming the truth: "She gave you her kidney, you bastard! That anonymous donor? That was Emily!"

His face, once sneering, turned to horror.

But would this revelation be enough to save me, or would his ultimate atonement demand an even greater sacrifice?

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