The neon sign of the Sterling-Khan Clinic buzzed in the twilight. inside, William Croft sat on a plastic chair, looking out of place in his civilian clothes.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Julian Sterling muttered, pacing the small office. “This is a massive HIPAA violation. If the Medical Board finds out, we lose everything.”
“If we don’t do this, a man dies,” Maya Khan countered. She turned to William. “We called you because you are the only person in the world with his genetic code.”
William frowned. “Is Malcolm sick? He looked fine when he fired me.”
Maya pulled up the projection of the bloodwork. “He isn’t fine. He has a rare, congenital defect that causes rapid renal necrosis. It’s a ‘DNA Time Bomb’ triggered by stress. His kidneys are failing, William. He doesn’t have years; he has weeks.”
William stared at the screen, the anger of the exile fading into the shock of a brother.
“He needs a transplant immediately,” Julian added, his voice grave. “And because you are identical twins, you are the only perfect match on earth. You are the only one who can save him.”