Anastasia waved her phone in his face, showing the electronic marriage certificate. “Look carefully. I am the one President Sinclair married officially. Our Evan is his son. This woman’s child? A mistake. Nothing but a bastard, not even recognized.”
Her words were like knives in my chest. I looked at Nuanxing’s pale little face in my arms and my knees gave out. I fell to the floor right in front of Anastasia.
“Please… please, save my daughter!” I begged, my voice cracking, tears streaming down my face.
The chatter in the hall went silent. Every eye was on us.
Anastasia didn’t even blink. She picked up Jordan’s number and dialed. The moment he answered, her voice was sweet and aggrieved. “Baby, come back! Hurry. Genevieve is trying to steal Evan’s blood. She wants to hurt us. She’s trying to kill our son and me!”
I ripped free from the guards and grabbed the phone. My voice shook, but I forced it to stay strong. “Jordan! Jennifer is cut! She’s severely anemic from a rare condition. She needs a transfusion right now! Tell the hospital to give her the blood, or she will die!”
There was a long silence on the line, and then Jordan’s voice came through, impatient and clipped.
“Genn, the blood’s already been set aside for Evan. He needs it now, so don’t cause a scene and slow things down.”
I felt my chest tighten, my voice breaking. “How much blood does a one-month-old even need?! Your fucking son just scraped his knee, and my daughter is lying in the emergency room, bleeding! She needs it now!”
There was more static on the line before Jordan spoke again, his voice cold, almost suspicious. “A newborn baby with a rare condition? Are you… exaggerating this, Genn? Are you even being honest about your own daughter?”
“Jordan!” My voice cracked, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “She is your daughter! Your own flesh and blood! Can’t you even understand that?”
I could hear the dean whispering near him, all obsequious, like he was afraid to anger the big man. “Mr. Sinclair, what should we do about this woman? She seems… unstable. She insists she’s your wife…”
Jordan was silent for a beat, and when he spoke again, it was icy and distant. “My wife is Anastasia. She’s the one taking care of our son, Evan. I… don’t have a daughter.”
Relief seemed to wash over the room. People looked at me like I’d gone mad.
Anastasia grinned like she’d won. She slammed the bag of Rh-negative blood onto the floor in front of me. “Does your… child even deserve this?” she hissed. Her heel ground the blood into the floor. “I’d rather see it wasted than see it given to you.”
I felt my chest collapse, like someone had crushed it with a stone, and even breathing felt impossible.
The ward door banged shut behind me, cutting me off from everything. I stumbled back to Jennifer Hospital’s ward, cradled my daughter’s tiny cold body, and tears ran over her face like a broken string of pearls. My arms felt so empty, so useless.
Then my phone lit up. Anastasia had posted again on Insta story. She was holding Evan, smiling bright, and in the picture was the transfer Jordan had just made, 500,000 dollars, with a note: “Take care of our son.”
My stomach dropped, and a chill ran straight through me. The warmth in my arms was fading, and I felt completely powerless. How could he pretend to love me all these years, then let her do this?
And just when despair was about to swallow me whole, I heard a clear, calm male voice from the doorway.
“I have Rh-negative blood. I can donate it to your daughter.”
...
Thanks to that stranger who donated 400cc of blood, my daughter was alive. My little girl was finally safe. How messed up is that? Her own father hoarded every drop of Rh-negative blood in the hospital, refusing to give her a single vial, and some stranger just shows up, quietly saves her life, and vanishes without even leaving a name.
Her tiny face slowly got color back, and her little mouth instinctively searched for milk. The nanny leaned closer, “Miss Genevieve, something isn’t right. I’ve always watched her closely. Nothing sharp ever got near her crib.”
I froze. “But the doctor said her wound came from a razor blade… she was lying in her crib the whole time.”
My stomach dropped. The moment I got home, I checked the crib. Hidden in the folds of the velvet sheets were several razor blades, still stained with my daughter’s blood.
My mind went blank. I had asked Jordan to buy that crib during my postpartum period. Did he even know what Anastasia had done? Of course he didn’t care about anything like that. He just told his assistant, “Buy the most expensive one.” And this crib… it was probably through Anastasia’s connections. She had planted those blades.
A chill ran down my spine. Does Jordan even realize that Anastasia tried to kill our daughter? And if he did know, would he do anything to protect her? Or would he just keep pretending to be the perfect husband while letting her die? I didn’t have an answer.
I curled up on the sofa, holding Jennifer close, letting her little body warm mine, and whispered through my tears, “Baby, don’t be scared. Mommy will never let anyone hurt you again.”
At least in two days we’d be gone from all of this, starting fresh somewhere new.
...
When Jordan came home from his trip, he stormed in immediately, his voice fake and sharp. “Genn, you’ve been acting completely out of line lately!”
I looked up at him, gripping Jennifer tighter.
“You went to the hospital, made a scene, and completely ignored how I’d feel,” he continued, his tone almost sweet, but I knew it was all fake. “Did you even think about me?”
I felt a shiver run through me.
He glanced down at my sleeping daughter, his fake concern showing, but I could see right through it. “You used our daughter to stir up trouble, Genn. That’s really disappointing.”
I shook my head, “Jordan, it’s over. Between us, it’s done.”
His hand shot out and gripped my arm. “Over? What do you mean it’s over? We’ve known each other since we were kids! We’ve been together for over ten years. You can’t just throw that away!”
