Cordelia finally snapped.
“She is not my sister! She is the daughter of a homewrecker!”
Maya had destroyed Helene’s life, leaving the lady unconscious. Even if Maya died, Cordelia would never donate blood.
But Hendrix didn’t give her the chance to refuse. He forced her into the chair.
“Della, it’s just some blood. It won’t affect you or the baby.”
Then he turned to the nurse.
“Draw it now. If anything happens to Maya, you’ll pay with your life.”
The McQuillens were one of Seattle’s most powerful families, and Hendrix was the heir. The nurse didn’t dare defy him and immediately picked up the needle.
Cordelia struggled desperately.
“Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”
But Hendrix pinned her down, his voice cold against her ear.
“If you want your mother to stay safe, give Maya your blood.”
Cordelia’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“You’re threatening me with my mom?!”
Hendrix didn’t respond, only urged the nurse again.
When the needle pierced her skin, Cordelia could almost hear her heart shatter.
In the end, the nurse drew two units of her blood.
Her vision blurred; her face turned ghostly pale, her lips drained of color.
Meanwhile, Maya—who supposedly needed the transfusion—looked perfectly flushed and healthy.
She leaned over and whispered in Cordelia’s ear.
“So what if you’re pregnant? If I want your blood, you’ll give it.”
Rage shot through Cordelia’s chest. She fainted on the spot.
At the sight, Hendrix’s heart tightened. He moved to pick her up, but Maya suddenly cried out, “Ahhh! Hendrix, my head hurts…”
Then she swayed dramatically and collapsed into his arms.
And just like that, Hendrix forgot all about Cordelia.
He picked Maya up and rushed out.
Cordelia had a terrifying dream.
In it, Hendrix had imprisoned her and forced her to give birth over and over again for him and Maya, turning her into nothing more than a walking womb.
The babies she carried for ten months and brought painfully into the world all called Maya “Mom.”
In the final scene of the dream, Maya and Hendrix walked into a wedding hall together…
“No!”
Cordelia jolted awake to find Hendrix sitting beside her.
Seeing her panic, he immediately grabbed her hand.
“Nightmare? Don’t be scared. I’m here.”
For a moment, she couldn’t tell dream from reality. She mumbled, “Hendrix… whose child am I carrying?”
His face froze instantly.
“Tell me,” she said coldly.
Hendrix quickly recovered and forced a gentle tone.
“Of course, it’s ours—our child. Don’t overthink it.”
Watching him fake that affectionate expression made her grind her teeth in hatred.
Compared to Maya, she despised him far more.
Just as she was about to slap him, Maya walked in, speaking in a soft, pitiful tone.
“Della… thank you for donating blood for me. I heard you fainted, so I came to check on you.”
Cordelia’s face turned cold.
“With acting skills like that, why don’t you become an actress?”
Hendrix’s brows tightened; his voice grew displeased.
“Maya came out of kindness. What kind of attitude is that? I’m the one who asked you to give her blood. If you’re mad, take it out on me.”
A flash of triumph flickered through Maya’s eyes. She bit her lip and whispered, “Hendrix, don’t argue with my sister. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come.”
She stepped back as if to leave, then “accidentally” stumbled.
Seeing her about to fall, Hendrix rushed forward.
As he moved, he bumped into Cordelia’s IV line.
The needle jerked violently, stabbing deep into her vein. The pain twisted her entire face.
But Hendrix didn’t even glance at her.
He scooped up the “unconscious” Maya and carried her out of the room.
He didn’t return for three days.
During those three days, he didn’t call. He didn’t text.
But Cordelia knew exactly what he was doing.
He had taken Maya to France.
They held hands strolling down the Champs-Élysées, went shopping, and celebrated Maya’s birthday at a high-end restaurant.
She saw everything on Maya’s Instagram.
Cordelia wasn’t angry at all. In fact, she was grateful.
Finally, she had evidence of his affair.
She sent every intimate photo and video to her lawyer, asking him to fight for as much property as possible.
When Hendrix finally returned to the villa, Cordelia was in the yard burning the things he had given her.
Watching his gifts consumed by flames, he frowned.
“Della? What are you burning?”
