Ruth's POV
The paper in front of me read 'Bone Marrow Transplant Consent Form,' the words stark and cold against the white sheet.
Beneath it was the beneficiary's name: James' Jamie' Dunford
He was Mackenzie's son from her previous marriage to Warren Dunford
Shane and Warren had been close friends and former military colleagues. When Shane brought Jamie home, he knelt at my feet, tears streaming down his face, telling me Warren had died in battle. His last request had been for Shane to take care of his only son, who was born with congenital leukemia.
I once treated that child as if it were my own.
That was, until Mackenzie came back from Europe.
The very next day, Jamie rigged a bucket of scalding water above my door.
The moment I walked in, it drenched me from head to toe, and he screamed, "Ruth is a filthy mistress who stole my mom's husband!"
Now, that same boy sat in Mackenzie's arms, eagerly urging her, "Mom, hurry up! Burn everything that belongs to that witch! Burn her disgusting face too, so she won't dare seduce Uncle Shane again!"
The child didn't know.
If it weren't for my heart condition, the one I'd been fighting in silence for years, I might have been a match for his marrow.
Back when he first came to live with us, I would have done anything for him—motherly instinct, you know?
The thought almost drained me completely.
"Shane," I said hoarsely, "you know the risks. A transplant has a 50% chance of killing me."
He shrugged it off. "Only half. I'll make sure you get the best doctors post-op."
I nodded, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. "Perfect. Just perfect. So kind of you to trouble yourself."
"Tell me," I forced out, my voice shaking, "if I sign this, will you let me go? Will you at least let my parents rest in peace?"
Mackenzie snapped her lighter on and off, sparks crackling.
"Ruth, signing or not, it's your choice. But don't make it sound like Shane's forcing you. We could never bear such an accusation."
Forcing me? So, unless a knife was literally pressed to my throat, it wasn't coercion?
I lowered my head and sighed.
My tears bled into the ink, smudging the strokes.
'Mom, Dad, what I owe you, I can never repay in this life. Let me go early, so maybe I'll meet you again in the next one,' I said to myself.
I felt my voice break as I added, "Can I have the photo back, now?"
Mackenzie burst out laughing, doubling over.
And in that moment, everything clicked. The contract was fake.
It wasn't the first time they'd played me like this.
Every time I fell for their tricks, her laugh always sounded the same.
"Shane, remember when you said Ruth was like a dog you raised? I didn't believe you then." Her smirk was sharp. "Now I do. She's too obedient. Even my dog, Bella, needs a bone before he'll lick my shoes. But Ruth? She'll debase herself without needing a reward—just for you."
At the same time, Jamie drew back the slingshot and released it. A sharp stone struck my cheek, blood trickling down to the corner of my mouth. But the cold inside me was so intense that I barely noticed the pain.
"Stupid mistress!" he spat. "My transplant already has a better donor match. Who would want your dirty marrow, even for free?"
Holding the useless, counterfeit agreement in my hands, I wasn't sure whether to feel relief or despair.
Shane looked at me with cold, unwavering eyes.
His words cut through the air, harsh and precise as he said, "Ruth, just admit that you can't live without me."
I answered with more resolve than I thought I had in me. "Fine. I admit it. But are you done playing now? Can you give me back the photo?"
Mackenzie dangled the picture just out of reach, holding it above my head like a treat for a dog.
I reached for it, grasping at air.
By the time I turned the corner, it was already in flames.
The curling ash carried my mother's smiling face, burning it beyond recognition.
"Stop!" I screamed.
My heart pounded as I rushed forward, grabbing the fire with my bare hands, desperate to put it out.
Mackenzie slipped effortlessly into Shane's protective embrace, untouched.
And I fell, the searing heat from the flames burning into my palms, the pain so intense that the world around me faded into darkness.
"Pathetic act," I heard her mutter. "Always putting on a show!"
Through the haze of my fading consciousness, I thought I saw Shane rushing toward me, panic etched across his face. He scooped me up in his arms.
"What an idiot," his voice cracked. "How dare you grab fire with your hands? Call an ambulance now!"
I could barely hear him. Was it real? Was I hallucinating? I must be dying if I'm seeing this.
...
When I woke up, Shane was slumped beside my bed, with dark circles under his eyes. He was deeply asleep. In his hand, he still held the photo with its corners burnt, but it wasn't destroyed.
The scene was all too familiar, yet somehow, it felt so foreign.
I couldn't understand why he refused to share his love with me, yet still refused to let me go.
I only remembered how he had shielded Mackenzie from a blow she'd faked, leaving me to fend for myself.
I only knew one thing for sure: I was no longer his first choice.
Then, my phone buzzed with a message from Atty. Montgomery.
[Miss Coleman, I've confirmed. If you can provide evidence of Shane's infidelity, the agreement will be valid. You have three days left.]
