Vanessa lifted her phone and shoved it toward the director.
"Take a good look," she said smugly. "I'm the woman President Sterling legally married. James is his legitimate son. As for her child..." She glanced at me with contempt. "That baby was a mistake. An illegitimate child who isn't even acknowledged."
Every word struck me like a knife.
I looked down at Charlotte's tiny, pale face resting in my arms.
My legs suddenly gave way.
I collapsed onto the floor right in front of Vanessa.
"Please..." My voice broke completely. "Please save my daughter."
I was crying so hard I could barely speak.
"Please. I'm begging you."
The hallway fell silent.
No one spoke.
Everyone was watching.
Vanessa didn't look affected in the slightest.
Without even glancing at me, she pulled out her phone and called Adrian.
The second he answered, her voice changed.
She sounded frightened and wronged.
"Honey, come back quickly. Vivian's gone crazy. She's trying to take James's blood. She wants to hurt us. She's trying to kill me and our son."
Something inside me snapped.
I jerked free from the security guards and grabbed the phone.
My hands were shaking violently.
"Adrian!"
I was crying, but I forced myself to speak clearly.
"Charlotte is injured. She has a rare blood disorder and severe anemia. She needs a transfusion right now. Tell them to release the blood to her immediately, or she's going to die!"
Silence answered me.
A long, terrible silence.
Then Adrian finally spoke.
His tone was impatient.
"Genn, the blood has already been reserved for James. He needs it now, so stop making a scene and delaying things."
I couldn't breathe.
"How much blood could a one-month-old baby possibly need?" I cried. "Your son has a tiny scrape on his knee! My daughter is downstairs bleeding in the emergency room. She needs it right now!"
More silence.
Then he spoke again.
This time, his voice sounded cold.
Almost doubtful.
"A newborn with a rare condition?" he said slowly. "Genn... are you exaggerating? Are you even telling me the truth?"
I felt something break inside me.
"Adrian!"
Hot tears poured down my face.
"She's your daughter! She's your own child! How can you say something like that?"
I could hear voices around him.
The hospital director was speaking cautiously.
"Mr. Sterling... how should we handle this woman? She seems emotionally unstable. She keeps insisting she's your wife."
Adrian said nothing for several seconds.
Then he answered.
His voice was distant.
Almost indifferent.
"My wife is Vanessa. She's the mother of my son, James."
He paused.
"I don't have a daughter."
The room seemed to relax.
The tension disappeared.
People looked at me with pity.
Or suspicion.
As if I were someone who had lost her mind.
Vanessa smiled.
It was the smile of someone who had won completely.
She took the bag of Rh-negative blood and dropped it onto the floor in front of me.
"Do you really think your child deserves this?" she asked softly.
Then she lifted her heel and stepped on the blood bag.
"I'd rather waste every drop than let it go to you."
I felt like my chest had been crushed beneath a boulder.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't even cry anymore.
...
When I returned to Charlotte's room, the ward door closed behind me with a dull thud.
It felt as though I had been cut off from the rest of the world.
I walked to the bed and carefully picked up my daughter.
Her tiny body felt frighteningly cold.
I held her close against my chest while tears slipped down my face endlessly.
I had never felt so helpless.
Then my phone suddenly lit up.
Another Instagram story.
Vanessa again.
She was holding James in her arms and smiling brightly at the camera.
Below the photo was a screenshot of a transfer notification.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
The note attached to it read:
Take care of our son.
I stared at the screen.
A chill spread through my body.
The warmth in my arms seemed to be fading little by little.
I felt utterly powerless.
How had this man spent years convincing me he loved me...
only to stand by while another woman did this to our child?
Despair swallowed me whole.
Then, from the doorway, a calm male voice spoke.
"I have Rh-negative blood."
I looked up.
The man stood quietly in the doorway.
"If you'll allow it," he said gently, "I can donate to your daughter."
...
Because of that stranger's donation of four hundred cubic centimeters of blood, my daughter survived.
My baby lived.
The irony of it all was almost unbearable.
Her own father had controlled every unit of Rh-negative blood in the hospital and refused to spare her a single bag.
Meanwhile, a complete stranger had appeared out of nowhere, saved her life, and disappeared without even leaving behind his name.
Color gradually returned to Charlotte's tiny face.
Her little lips moved instinctively, searching for milk.
The nanny suddenly leaned closer.
"Miss Vivian... something isn't right."
I looked at her.
"I watch her all the time. Nothing sharp ever went near her crib."
I froze.
"But the doctor said the wound came from a razor blade," I said slowly. "She never left her crib."
A terrible feeling settled in my stomach.
The second we returned home, I went straight to the nursery.
I pulled apart the velvet bedding.
My blood turned cold.
Several razor blades were hidden among the folds.
Some of them still carried traces of my daughter's blood.
I stood there in shock.
I remembered asking Adrian to purchase the crib during my postpartum confinement.
Of course he hadn't personally selected it.
He never paid attention to details like that.
He had probably told his assistant the same thing he always did.
Buy the most expensive one.
And the assistant...
The assistant was Vanessa.
I suddenly understood.
She had arranged all of this.
She had placed those blades there.
A chill ran down my spine.
Did Adrian know?
Did he realize Vanessa had almost killed our daughter?
And even if he knew...
would he protect Charlotte?
Or would he continue pretending to be the perfect husband while quietly allowing our child to die?
I didn't know.
I honestly didn't know anymore.
I sat down on the sofa and held Charlotte tightly against my chest.
Her tiny body radiated warmth.
I buried my face against her soft hair.
"Don't be afraid, baby," I whispered through my tears. "Mommy won't let anyone hurt you ever again."
At least we only had two more days.
In two days, we would leave.
We would start over somewhere new.
...
Adrian returned from his business trip the next evening.
The moment he entered the house, he looked angry.
"Genn, you've been acting completely unreasonable lately."
I looked up at him while tightening my hold around Charlotte.
"You went to the hospital and caused a huge scene."
His voice softened slightly, but it sounded artificial.
"Did you even stop to think about how that would affect me?"
A shiver ran through me.
His gaze dropped to our sleeping daughter.
Concern appeared on his face.
It looked convincing.
But now I could see right through him.
"You used our daughter to create trouble," he said with disappointment. "Honestly, Genn, I never expected this from you."
I slowly shook my head.
"Adrian," I said quietly, "it's over."
He frowned.
"What?"
"It's over between us."
His face changed immediately.
He stepped forward and grabbed my arm.
"Over?" he repeated. "What do you mean, over?"
His grip tightened.
"We've known each other since we were children. We've been together for more than ten years."
His voice rose.
"You can't just throw all of that away."
