Chapter 303: The Odds of Success
The man snorted, "In this country, there are ten million patients waiting for a heart transplant, but every year, less than 500 of those transplants are successful. The odds are less than 0.00005%. Those who can't get a heart either hang on through heavy medication and treatments, or they die waiting. Miss Harrington, which one do you think you'll be?"
Isabella Harrington was silent.
"However, one thing is certain, either outcome is going to be terrible for you. You think about dragging Ava Anderson down to hell with you, but do you have the capability to do so?" The man's cruel words laid the harsh reality before her.
Isabella Harrington had to admit this.
Her voice was hoarse as she said, "Alex will help me, he definitely will..."
"And what if he does?" the man interrupted her, "In this world, even the richest and most powerful people have to face one thing – mortality. When sickness is deep-rooted, no amount of money can do more than make death a bit more comfortable. No one can stop death. Money can only delay the process a little bit. Miss Harrington, no matter how much you try to delay, it's just a few more years at best. Such a pity indeed."
"I am not going to die!" Isabella Harrington said angrily. "You just stop with your alarmist talk."
"Alarmist talk? Let me tell you another fact. Have you ever considered why Alexander Mitchell, with all his wealth, doesn't find some special people, use some special channels to buy a heart? It shouldn't be difficult for him, probably just a few phone calls, yet he hasn’t done it. Seems like he doesn't care about you as much as you think."
Isabella Harrington glared at him, "Stop trying to stir up trouble. Alex will be here to see me soon, and he won't let you off the hook if he sees you!"
"That would seal your fate," the man said coolly, "So, you'd better hope he doesn't suddenly show up."
Isabella Harrington frowned. "Are you threatening me? Who exactly are you?"
"I'm not threatening you," the man replied, his voice frigid. "You seem to misunderstand. What I mean is, if Alexander Mitchell shows up, I'll have to leave, and then I won't be able to help you. Without my help, you'll surely die."
"How... how can you help me?" Isabella Harrington asked with suspicion, feeling a strong, dangerous signal emanating from the man.
The man moved closer to her and spoke softly, "I can help you find a suitable heart. It will be very healthy and perfectly match you."
Isabella Harrington's face tensed, "What did you say?"
In disbelief, she retorted, "You, out of the blue, want to find me a healthy heart, and you expect me to buy that story?"
Isabella was no naive child to take a stranger at their word. If she had been that trusting, she would've been devoured long ago.
"You don't have to believe me," the man insisted, "but you can't deny that when two people have mutual interests, they can help each other. I don't want you to die because you are useful."
Isabella squinted her eyes, attempting to gauge something from the man's gaze, but she could see nothing. His eyes were deep and dark, intimidating.
"Why do you think I'm so useful? You wouldn't happen to be Alex's enemy, would you?"
The man gently patted her hand.
Isabella looked down at his hand, noting the black gloves he wore, but she did not pull her hand away.
"Miss Harrington, which do you think is more important, Alexander Mitchell or your own life? If you believe he is more important, then I can just leave right now, and we can pretend we never met. However, if your life is more important to you, I can assure you that within a week I can get you a compatible heart—but the condition is, from here on out, we're friends."
