The Kidney They Threw Away Became a Doctor

When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old, on the very day my birth parents brought me back to the Carrington estate.

Alistair Carrington, my brother, blocked their path, his finger jabbing toward my face. Dad, Mom, I made a mistake, he said, his voice laced with ice. She isnt my sister.

Seeing the undisguised disgust on his face, I understood instantly. Like me, he had been reborn with the memories of our past life.

Disappointment washed over my parents faces. They turned and walked away without a backward glance.

Alistair pressed a hard candy into my palm, the cellophane crinkling in the tense silence. The Carringtons only need one daughter, and thats Isabelle, he said, his voice flat. Your kidney couldnt even save her life. Theres no reason for you to be here.

Flashes of my previous life seared through my mind: at eighteen, I donated a kidney to the familys beloved adopted daughter, Isabelle, who was suffering from renal failure. She died from organ rejection anyway. Before I had even fully recovered from the surgery, the Carringtons threw me out. Soon after, my surgical wound became severely infected. I died alone on the streets.

My fist clenched around the candy, its sharp edges digging into my palm.

He was right. In our past life, my only purpose to him was as a spare blood bank and organ bank for Isabelle. Since my kidney had failed to save her, and she had died regardless, my useless self had no place in their family this time around.

I smiled, but a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away fiercely, telling myself that the girl from that life, the one who craved their love, was dead.

The one living now was me.

I turned and walked back to a quiet corner of the orphanage.

Not long after, the purr of an expensive engine broke the silence as a sleek black Bentley glided to a stop at the curb. The director scurried out, ushering in an elderly gentleman with silver hair.

The orphanage erupted. Children flocked around him like a chattering of sparrows, all vying for his attention.

Hello, Grandpa!

Grandpa, I can sing for you!

Grandpa, look at my drawing!

Only I remained in my inconspicuous corner, an outsider to the frenzy.

The old man, Mr. Preston, noticed me. He gently moved through the crowd, leaning on his cane as he made his way toward me.

Little one, why are you all by yourself over here? Dont they like you?

I shook my head and looked up, offering him the candy, now warm from my tight grip. For you, Grandpa.

I forced a calm maturity into my voice, one far beyond my years. He paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He took the candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

Mm, its very sweet.

He studied me for a long moment. Whats your name?

The director calls me Ava.

Ava he repeated, nodding slowly. Would you like to come home with me? To be my granddaughter?

The orphanage fell silent. Every childs gaze, sharp with envy, was fixed on me.

Without a shred of hesitation, I nodded firmly. Yes.

He let out a hearty laugh that boomed through the quiet hall. Good! Excellent! From this day forward, your name is Ava Preston.

He took my hand, his palm warm and dry. Ava, it means life, a precious thing. I want you, my child, to become a priceless gem.

I understood the weight of his words, the hope he was placing in me. In that moment, I squeezed his hand back, hard.

I became the cherished jewel of the Preston family.

Mr. Preston, my new grandfather, treated me like a treasure. He taught me to read and write himself, and shared with me his wisdom on life and character. His own children, my new aunts and uncles, though busy, never failed to bring me fascinating gifts and showered me with genuine affection.

But the one who doted on me most was my new brother, Noah, who was ten years my senior.

The first time he saw me, a gentle smile broke through his cool, handsome features. This is our little princess, hed declared. No one gets to hurt her. It became his mantra.

Wrapped in so much love, the scars of my past life began to fade. I threw myself into my studies, consistently ranking first from elementary school through high school. My room overflowed with trophies and certificates from countless competitions.

When it came time for college, I chose to study medicine without a second thought. I knew Isabelles illness was the unending ache in the heart of the Carrington family. It was also the sword that had once hung over my own head.

Twenty years later, I had become one of the countrys youngest and most renowned physicians and medical researchers.

Life was peaceful and fulfilling. I believed the Carringtons had vanished from my life forever.

Until the day my assistant knocked on my office door.

Dr. Preston, theres a Mr. Alistair Carrington here to see you. He specifically requested our most expensive consultation to have you see his sister.

The name sent an involuntary jolt through my heart. I took a deep breath, pushing down the surge of emotion, and kept my voice perfectly even.

Send him in.

A tall man in a tailored suit walked in. The boyishness of his youth had sharpened into a handsome, brooding intensity.

The moment Alistair saw me, he froze. His deep-set eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. He could never have imagined that the medical expert he had gone to such lengths to find was the sister he had cast away twenty years ago.

It took him a long moment to find his voice. When he did, it was thick with suspicion. Youre Dr. Preston?

I simply nodded. Mr. Carrington, please have a seat. Tell me about your sisters condition.

He ignored my invitation, his eyes still scanning me critically. Are you really a doctor? What are the chances you can actually cure my sister? His tone suggested I was a fraud, a charlatan.

My assistant, standing beside me, could barely contain her indignation. Sir, Dr. Preston is the leading expert at this hospital. Her time is extremely valuable

I looked at Alistair, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching my lips. It seems you dont trust my professional capabilities, Mr. Carrington.

In that case, lets cancel this consultation.

Chloe, show the gentleman out.

Alistairs face darkened instantly. He clenched his jaw, but in the end, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

My assistant stomped her foot in frustration. Dr. Preston, that man is so rude! Who does he think he is?

I just gave a nonchalant shrug. Its fine. Hes just another patient.

To me, it was nothing more than a minor interruption. My life had long since moved on from them.

After work, as I was leaving the research building, Alistair appeared, blocking my path. His expression was a dark, complicated storm.

My brows furrowed. Can I help you?

He stared at me, his gaze intense. After a long silence, he finally ground out the words. Im warning you.

I dont care who you are now. You will not harm Isabelle.

I almost laughed out loud. Twenty years ago, he was the one who cruelly stopped me from being a Carrington, and now here he was, calling me by that name again, warning me not to hurt the very person he chose over me. As if I would waste a single second of my life on her.

I looked at him as if he were a raving lunatic. Mr. Carrington, my last name is Preston. Ava Preston. Please get it right.

Furthermore, I dont know you, and I certainly dont know your sister. As a doctor, my job is to save lives, not to harm them. So why, exactly, would I want to hurt a complete stranger?

Alistair was taken aback, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. You dont remember me?

He seemed unable to accept it, his voice rising. Twenty years ago! At the orphanage! I was the one who stopped my parents He trailed off, the words catching in his throat, as if even he found his past actions shameful.

Seeing his discomfort, a chilling coldness settled in my heart.

Of course, I remembered.

I remembered every look of disgust, every hateful word. I remembered how he personally pushed me away, shattering every fantasy I ever had about family.

But I would pretend.

I feigned a moment of deep thought, then let my expression clear into one of dawning realization.

Ohhh, I drew out the sound. So it was you.