Unspoken Connections

Chapter 70: Search For A Donor

Weeks had passed since the tense confrontation with my father, and the situation had only grown more complicated.

As time went on, it became increasingly clear that finding a suitable organ donor was proving to be an immense challenge.

My father, in his desperation, had resorted to offering a staggering sum of money – a hundred million dollars – to anyone willing to step forward and save his life.

Yet, despite this enticing offer, no one seemed willing to take him up on it.

I watched as my father made frantic calls, reaching out to his network of friends and acquaintances, pleading with them to consider being a donor.

But to our collective dismay, they all refused, citing various reasons – from concerns over their own health to a deep-rooted reluctance to undergo such a significant medical procedure.

It was shocking, knowing how powerful our family is, but we can't even get a single donor.

The tension in our household grew visible, as my father's frustration mounted with each passing day.

Lulu and I could only watch, helpless, as the search for a donor seemed to hit one dead end after another.

"I don't understand," my father would mutter, his brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and despair. "A million dollars is a life-changing sum of money. Why would no one be willing to help?"

Lulu, ever the voice of reason, would gently interject, "Mr. Livingstone, sometimes the decision to donate an organ goes beyond just the financial incentive. It's a deeply personal choice that requires a great deal of trust and selflessness."

"Mind your own damn business!"

SEBASTIAN'S POV

Frustrated and desperate, I hurried to the office, determined to track down the families I had reached out to in the past.

The Davensports, the Blackwoods, and more – I knew they had the means and the resources to potentially save my life, and I was willing to do whatever it took to convince them.

As I paced the halls of my office, my mind raced with the possibilities.

Surely, with the promise of a hundred million dollars, someone would be willing to put aside their reservations and step up to the plate.

I had to make them see the gravity of the situation, the urgency of my need.

Gathering the key players in my conference room, I laid out my case, my voice tinged with a desperate pleading.

I spoke of my declining health, the ticking clock that threatened to take my life away. I emphasized the financial incentive, the life-changing sum that could transform their lives.

But as I watched their faces, the hesitation and unease were visible. They listened, but the resolve in their eyes never wavered.

One by one, they shook their heads, their expressions a mix of sympathy and unease.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Livingstone," the Davensport patriarch said, his voice low and somber. "But we just can't take on that kind of risk, not even for a hundred million dollars. You understand, don't you?"

The Blackwoods, too, and more families offered their regrets, citing concerns over the long-term health implications and the uncertainty of the procedure.

I pressed on, trying to appeal to their sense of humanity, their compassion, but it was all in vain.

As the meeting drew to a close, I found myself surrounded by people I had considered allies, even friends, and yet they had all turned their backs on me.

Storming out of the office, I made my way back home, my mind reeling with the weight of it all.

How could this be happening? I was a Livingstone, with wealth, power, and influence – surely, I should have been able to find someone, anyone, willing to save my life.

As I sat in my chair, my mind reeling from the failed attempts to find a donor, my wife gently approached me with a somber expression.

"Honey, there's something you need to see," she said, handing me a stack of articles. "It seems the reason why no one wants to be a donor, even with the million-dollar offer, is because of our family's connection to Maximus Livingstone."

I felt a surge of anger and disbelief coursing through me. "What do you mean? What does that have to do with anything? We aren't politicians, we're entrepreneurs!" I demanded, my voice rising in frustration.

My wife sighed deeply. "It seems the people in this country still remember the Livingstone Massacre from 2009. They think that because we're Livingstones, we're just as bad as Maximus and his family."

I scanned the articles, my heart sinking with each word I read. The allegations were damning – that our family was tainted by the sins of Maximus, that we were somehow complicit in the horrors he unleashed upon the city.

The thought of it made my blood boil.

"But that's absurd!" I exclaimed, slamming my fist on the table. "I've had nothing to do with that man or his atrocities. I left that household long before any of that happened!"

My wife placed a comforting hand on my arm. "I know, dear. But the public perception is still there, and it's making people wary of helping us, even with the substantial financial incentive."

I raked my fingers through my hair, my mind racing with a mix of anger, despair, and a desperate need to clear our family's name. "This is unbelievable. How can they hold us responsible for the actions of someone we've had no connection to for years?"

LULU'S POV

As I sat by Nicole's bedside, watching over her as she slept, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation unfolding downstairs.

The tension and anguish in Mr. Livingstone's voice were palpable, and my heart went out to him and his family.

I had known about the Livingstone Massacre of 2009 – it was a dark chapter in this city's history that had left an indelible mark on so many lives, including my own.

It was during that tragic event that I had lost my parents, caught in the crossfire of the senseless violence.

Now, it seemed, they were being punished for the sins of their relative, Maximus Livingstone, the architect of that fateful massacre.

The very thought of it made my blood boil with indignation. How could they be held responsible for the actions of someone they had no connection to, especially when my girlfriend's life was on the line?

As I listened to the conversation, I could sense the growing frustration and despair in his voice.

My heart ached for Nicole, who laid silently.