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Benjamin watched as Samantha slowly walked toward his son. His hand, casually resting on the armrest of his wheelchair, clenched tightly.
Samantha was Mark’s last hope. If even she couldn't help, what future would Mark have?
His own disability no longer mattered—he had already lived a life full of power and indulgence.
But Mark was still just a child. He hadn’t even begun to experience life before it was cast into darkness. To live without color or light for a lifetime would be unbearable.
Benjamin watched as Samantha smiled gently and greeted his son, then sat on a stool nearby and took his pulse.
After a moment, she asked softly, “Little one, would you mind if I take a bit of your blood?”
Mark gave a small nod, though his eyes were fixated on the wound on her left ring finger
