Born As Kidney Donor For My Sister

Three months ago, Regina had invited me out, issuing a challenge.

She was Norton’s first love, and her reappearance in our lives was to win Norton over.

She confidently declared, “Norton has always loved me. You were just a distraction while I was away.”

At that time, I only wanted to find Norton and ask him directly.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I need to hear it from him,” I said before leaving.

As it got darker, the road became deserted.

A van suddenly stopped beside me, and two men, looking fierce, dragged me into the car.

Inside, Regina was also tied up.

The person who orchestrated our kidnapping was a former rival of Norton’s at the company.

He was caught embezzling a large sum of money, and by the time the police arrived at his house, he had already fled.

He suspected Norton had reported him, and he held a grudge.

When Norton arrived, I was about to cry for help but noticed his eyes were fixed on Regina.

It felt like a scène from a melodramatic soap opera.

Even though Norton had brought the ransom, he was told he could only take one person.

I finally understood why Norton hadn’t called the police and had come alone; he knew the kidnappers were desperate and didn’t want to risk Regina’s life.

“Norton…” I whispered, bound tightly by ropes.

He looked deeply into my eyes.

After a moment, he made his decision, looking at me with difficulty, “I’m sorry, Doreen. Regina has a heart condition; I can’t leave her. I know you’re brave, right? Wait for me, I will come back for you.”

My eyes lost their light.

As I was pinned down by several men, the last thing I saw was Norton carrying Regina away.

What I went through was nothing short of torture, with wounds all over my body, including the head injury from being slammed into the concrete during my struggle.

I don’t know how long it lasted, but eventually, it was over.

The abandoned factory was silent, with only me left behind. Blood from my head continued to flow, and my consciousness began to fade.

Barely clinging to life, I saw Norton arriving.

His face was pale as he trembled, holding me in his arms.

He cried, his voice hoarse with repeated apologies, “I’m sorry, Doreen. I’m so sorry… I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please forgive me.”

I was taken to the hospital, and at some point during my stay, I woke up briefly.

I weakly half–opened my eyes.

Norton was sitting by my bedside, holding my hand with one hand and speaking on the phone with the other.

He didn’t notice I was awake, and I heard him say in a low voice, “It’s my fault. I won’t leave her, so stop contacting me.”

“We can’t call the police, Norton said. “I can’t let anyone know that Doreen was ra…

He tightened his grip on my hand, took a deep breath, and continued, “I can’t let anyone know what happened to Doreen. It’s better if those men are gone for good so they won’t come near her again.”

As soon as he finished speaking, I couldn’t hold on and drifted back to sleep.

When I woke up again, my memory had reverted to a year ago.

Norton kept saying he wanted to make it up to me, but he wasn’t even willing to call the police to seek justice for me.

To him, my experience was disgraceful and something to be hidden.

He felt guilty yet simultaneously saw me as tainted.

My memory loss gave him the perfect excuse to keep everything hidden.