The Donor Took My Life

dled in the shadows, and looke

r silhouettes against the window. He was holding her, his

esperate, self-destructive impulse, I p

then disconnected.

rd I could barely press t

p again.

y chest, and I doubled over, gasping

om the window, back into the room. A moment later, he

rang. I

er, my throat to

s. The same voice he was just using with her. "Sorry, I was in

cony, the cold night air whipping around hi

ere, that I could see him, that I knew he was a liar.

concern in his voice now. "Did something happen?

lent laugh. Did someon

me out as a broken whisper. "Damien

st hear the gears turning in hi

th. "It's... it's Thursday." He let out a forced chuck

It was our wedd

you," he promised. "We'll go away, j

pped out, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind.

f it through the phone. It was the m

pine, so cold it felt

hoke out, my voice raspy. "

his voice laced with relief

ed th

mbrace. They looked like any other couple in

eaming down my face in hot, silent tracks. So this is what betrayal

twenty-something kid with more ambition

have much to offer you right now, but I swear on my life

o a small, unassuming apartment building downtown. A place Cohen had bought for

was stale, thick with the smell of dust and disuse. Nothing

closed our first major deal. We were grinning, him with his arm slu

buzzed with an alert from the penthouse security syst

he door. I opened it to find both of them standing the

hand. "You're back! Why didn't you tell us

he could touch me, a small, a

ked with emotion. "Oh, kiddo. You hav

d stunned for a second, then his express

ted from the flight

back of his hand against my forehea

touch, my whole

k, looking relieved. "

rittle smile. "I'm

ay here for now. It's closer to the hospital for y

be managed, hidden away in a secret apartment while his re

said, my v

t be stay

over his face. "Good girl," he said, the word drippin

rrange for a housekeeper and a private

m their roles, the concerned husband, the loving brother