Page 16 of Chase

“I find it hard to believe that a mistake like this could be made twice. Are you able to give us details of the hospital in question and the doctor involved?”

“It’s a high-end private medical center in Mayfair called Harbridges. Very exclusive membership with eye-watering fees which makes the confusion even more surprising. The man who runs it, Dr. Oliver Winslow, is well-known in inner circles and is a highly sought-after physician,” Harrison says. “The center is part of a group of private medical establishments in the city.”

“And what was the doctor’s explanation for the confusion?” Connor asks.

“Paperwork irregularities. The doctor provided a document allegedly signed by the patient during their treatment permitting organ donation in the event of their death.” Harrison hits another button on his phone, and a document appears on the large screen on the wall. It was a completed organ donation enrolment form.

“What are we looking at?” Damon asks.

“The supposed document that both donors signed before their treatment. This is the evidence presented by the hospital to prove that the removal of the organs was within the client’s wishes. The families are disputing them. Neither patient ever agreed to be registered on the organ donor list prior to completing this form.”

“So what are we saying?” Hunter interjects. “That paperwork is being forged within the hospital to allow the removal of organs from unsuspecting patients?”

“I’m not convinced they’re forged,” Harrison says. “My client confirmed the signature is similar to his mother's. But I do suspect patients are being forced to complete the paperwork when their health declines to the point where the medical staff believe they won’t survive.”

We sit around the boardroom table, attempting to absorb what this information could possibly mean. There are so many variables and unconfirmable details. Documents signed by patients that directly challenge what their families thought they knew are certainly suspicious, but we all know that people keep secrets; they’ll say one thing and do another. Could it simply be a perverse chance that two people changed their minds in the same hospital and decided to donate their organs to save someone else?

The idea seems unlikely but can’t be discounted. A lot of the families our law firm works for are large and wealthy. The members are kept close, and a lot of pressure is exerted to submit to family norms. If organ donation was something not approved of, it would be unlikely that any family member would be registered. This would support the idea that members who had the opportunity to register, and wanted to, might take the chance while in a medical setting to change their position.

“We need to find out who completes the organ donation forms in the hospitals and at what point the suggestion is made,” I say.

“There’s a specific team member allocated to the task as far as I’m aware,” Harrison advises. “It was the same administration staff signature on both documents. Perhaps it would be worth a chat, but I feel we need to understand the extent of the issue first. How many patients are changing their stance in their final days?”

“If we’re aware of two,” Connor adds, “I have no doubt there will be more.”

“That’s something I agree with you on,” Hunter says, pushing himself up to stand. “Is there anything else Damon or I need to know? Because we have some business to attend to.”

“What kind of business?” Damon asks, rising to join him.

“I’m going to knock some fucking sense into you. We’re going to the gym. You can pulverize me, and I’ll kick your ass until you sort this depressive attitude out.”

Damon rolls his eyes. Neither man waits to hear if anything else needs to be discussed before heading to the elevator and leaving. I assume both men need to let off some steam.

Harrison follows their lead, making his own excuses for getting back to our sister. Christmas in general has been tough. We had dangerous altercations on both Boxing Day and New Year's. The earlier one was due to Violet’s ex rearing his head again. Most of our little group is finishing the festive season with extra bruises and a few near misses in our lives. I hope this year will be less eventful.

“Can you imagine?” Connor says randomly before walking over the fridge, collecting two beers and coming back to sit beside me. He passes me one followed by the bottle opener in his hand. I snap the cap, then he does the same and takes a drink.

“You’ll need to give me an idea of what to imagine. Naked woman, booming bank accounts, crushing my opponent in the courtroom? Any of those tend to be of a high priority.”

“No, you fuckwit. Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?” he mutters, taking another swig. All the fucking time, though he doesn’t know it. I’ve stepped in the way of danger to protect both him and my sister since we were kids. He wouldn't believe me if he truly knew how many times a belt had cracked my skin on his behalf. So I shrug my shoulders and maintain my asshole persona. “What if it was one of our family who this happened to? Was Mother’s sister not treated at Harbridges?”

“I don’t remember, but she did die in hospital. It could have been there. But she was an organ donor, we all are.”

“I know,” he huffs. “But imagine how we would feel if we weren’t. If someone cut our family open, or us!” His voice rises with anger. “The audacity. The butchery. I’d be furious.”

“Brother, I’d hunt them fucking down and remove their organs one by one with a blunt knife, ensuring they were alive as long as possible to witness it. They better pray not to inflict such evil on someone we care for or it will be the last thing they do.” Connor leans forward, lifting a hand and squeezing it into a fist. I copy his actions, and we bump knuckles. It is something we’ve done since we were kids. “I got you, Bro. Always.”

Chapter eight

Connor’s Apartment, The Level

Samantha

I wake to an empty bedroom. Connor has disappeared, but the distinct smell of him is still fresh on the dark silk. Lifting my arms, I stretch, then wiggle my toes to ensure all parts of my body are still in one piece after last night. As we’ve come to know each other better, our sex sessions have become more adventurous. When Connor says he wants you immobile to do with as he pleases, he means it.

The bedroom door opens, swinging backward and bouncing off the wall. Connor stands bollock naked in the doorway holding a tray. His deep brown eyes dance as he walks across the room; his cock hangs softened between his legs, but there’s no mistaking the familiar swell starting as he comes closer.

“Morning, Nurse Coleman,” he says with a dazzling grin. “Can I interest you in some sustenance before your first day at work?”

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