PART 3
I could barely hear her anymore.
The porch seemed to tilt beneath me.
Nora.
Five years old.
Dark hair.
Julian’s eyes.
The little girl my son had risked his life to save wasn’t just the daughter of an old classmate.
She was his daughter.
My granddaughter.
And suddenly Julian’s final words made terrible sense.
Don’t blame Nora.
Don’t blame Chloe.
He hadn’t donated a kidney to a stranger.
He had given it to the child he had spent years loving from a distance.
And he had di3d making sure she got the chance to live.
