“She has the Waverly genetic marker,” I said, the medical language I’d spent months memorizing pouring out of me. “A severe, rare hematopoietic disorder.

Her bone marrow is failing to make healthy red cells.

She needs a transplant within weeks or her organs start shutting down. I’m not a match. You’re her only hope.

I didn’t come here to fight over your settlement. I came to save your daughter’s life.”

“A lie!” Marcus shouted, slamming a fist onto the wood.

“This is a desperate extortion scheme by a bitter woman. Preston, don’t listen to this hysterical nonsense.