"So the surgery was a lie?" I rasped. "Your ultimate goal was to ambush me with this charity case?"
Max stood up to play peacemaker.
"Sam, Dr. Henson saved me, but I know it hurt you. It's not her fault—it's mine. I'm so sorry."
He dropped to his knees. Theatrical. Instantly trapping me in a moral deadlock. If I didn't forgive him, I was the villain.
Mom looked at me with that familiar, heavy disappointment.
"Look how sensible Max is. Unlike you, throwing tantrums over nothing. Let it go, Samantha. In fact, you should help Max out more. He comes from a small town, and fighting rejection post-surgery is expensive. It's not easy for him."
Dad nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. The kid is pitiful. He's had such a hard road."
A bitter laugh escaped me.
I tossed my medical records and the stack of overdue bills onto the table.
"I'm not exactly living the high life either." I said coldly. "General Hospital says without a transplant, I'm on borrowed time. I'm dying."
I glared at the boy on the floor. "Max, if you're so sorry, prove it. Give me my heart back."
Mom slammed her hand on the table, springing to her feet.