Not mistrust about the tests, but about him. A black driver wanting to donate part of his liver to save the daughter of a white millionaire. What kind of interest could he possibly have? Antonio, I deeply appreciate his her offer, but this is very complex. The doctors would need to evaluate so many things and there are legal issues and can I talk to him directly?” Antonio interrupted gently just to show him the tests.

Victoria nodded, but Antonio could tell that she had already decided that it wouldn’t work. 30 minutes later, Dr. Peterson examined the papers with obvious irritation. Sir Silva, Antonio Silva. Mr. Silva, I understand his concern about the situation, but organ donation is an extremely complex process that goes far beyond blood compatibility.

There are genetic factors, hystocompatibility issues, hospital protocols. I understand perfectly, doctor. Antonio kept his voice calm. That’s why I suggested specific tests for HLA antigens, crossmatching, and Dr. Peterson interrupted him, clearly surprised by his technical knowledge. How do you know these terms? Antonio hesitated, revealing her medical training would be admitting that he had been undercover as a driver for years.

I I’ve done a lot of research on her case. Look, the doctor sighed impatiently, even if you are compatible, there are protocols. A living donor must undergo psychiatric, social, and financial evaluations. Hospitals do not accept donors who may have questionable motives. The implication was clear. A poor black man, a man wanting to donate an organ to a rich white child could only have ulterior motives.

What kind of motives? Antonio asked quietly. Well, you’ve only been working for the family for a short time. Organ donation is a significant gesture. Some may question whether there are expectations of financial compensation or other benefits. Antonio felt anger rising in his throat, but he took a deep breath. Doctor, if you’ll allow him, he’d just like to have the specific tests done.

If he’s not a match, forget he ever suggested this. Dr. Peterson looked at Victoria, who nodded hesitantly. All right, but don’t get your hopes up. The chances are slim and even if you are compatible, there are many other issues involved. 3 days later, Antonio received a call. Dr. Peterson’s voice sounded different, tense, almost incredulous.

Mr. Silva, you need to come back to the hospital today. Antonio knew exactly what that tone meant. The tests had confirmed what he already knew. He was a perfect match. so perfect that it would be statistically impossible to find another donor like him. But when he arrived at the hospital, he found Victoria crying in the hallway and a group of doctors in heated discussion.

Mrs. Hamilton, he approached. What happened? Victoria lifted her tear stained face. The tests, you are indeed compatible. Perfectly compatible. She paused as if she couldn’t believe her own words. But they won’t authorize the surgery. Antonio felt his heart race. Why? It was Dr. Peterson who answered, avoiding his gaze.

The hospital ethics committee has decided that there are too many risk factors involved. Liability issues, safety protocols. Translation, Antonio said slowly. You don’t trust him. The silence was the answer he needed. That night, alone in his small apartment, Antonio looked out the window and thought of the 7-day old baby fighting for her life a few miles away.

He thought of Victoria, who treated him well, but never really saw him as someone capable of saving her daughter. He thought of the doctors who questioned his motives simply because he was black and poor. He opened his old laptop and began to search. There were other options, other hospitals perhaps in other states where the rules were different, where a man like him could save a child without her skin color being seen as a risk factor.

Because Isabella was dying and he had in his body exactly what she needed to live. And if the system wouldn’t let him do it the right way, maybe it was time to find out how many rules a man desperate to save a life was willing to break. What those doctors didn’t know was that Antonio Silva wasn’t just a well-meaning driver.

He was a trained doctor who had spent 15 years studying exactly this type of surgery, waiting for a chance to prove that competence has no skin color. Antonio didn’t sleep that night. Sitting at the kitchen table in his small apartment, surrounded by stacks of printed medical articles and pediatric surgery books, he reverted to who he really was, Dr.

Antonio Silva, who had graduated from a federal university with a medical degree 15 years ago. He had lied to the Hamilton family from day one. Not because he wanted to deceive them, but because he knew that a black doctor who had been unemployed for years due to prejudice would not even get an interview for a driver’s job with a wealthy white family.