After my 16-year-old son died, I donated his $80,000 college fund to save my coworker Sarah’s 14-year-old son, Daniel, who needed a transplant. My husband called it a betrayal of our child, left me, and I moved away, cutting all contact. Six years later, while I was dying of cancer in hospice, Daniel walked into my room, tears in his eyes, and thanked me for saving his life. He explained that his mother had spent years trying to find me and repay the money, but she died the previous year after asking him to fulfill her promise. After hiring a private investigator, Daniel finally found me and handed me an envelope containing $80,000, along with a photo of himself in a white coat. He was now in his second year of medical school, specializing in cardiology, determined to save children like himself because someone had once believed his life was worth saving.