His Son, My Secret

The hospital smelled like bleach and bad coffee. My son’s hand was cold in mine . Too cold for a four-year old who should be running, throwing tantrums over ice cream. “ Mrs. Shen?” The doctor’s voice was gentle. That was the worst part. Doctors are only gentle when news is bad . I swallowed.” Yes?” “Leo’s bone marrow results came back.” He slid the paper across the desk. I couldn’t read it. The words blurred .” He needs a transplant. Soon. And his biological father is our best chance for a match.” The room tilted . Biological father. Damian Wolfe. The man I spent one night with four years ago. The stranger his name I never learned until I saw his face on the cover of Forbes. The billionaire who didn’t know he had a son. And now that son was dying. I had 48 hours to find the coldest man in New York and beg him to save the child he never wanted. My phone buzzed. A text from the nurse: “ Leo’s asking for you, Mom.” I stared at the Damien Wolfe’s face on my browser. Sharp jaw . Cold eyes. Worth 4.2 billion dollars according to Forbes . The same eyes I’d stared into four years ago in the hotel room before he walked out of my life without a name , without a number. He built an empire. I built life from scraps , working double shifts to keep Leo fed. And now I had to walk into Wolfe Tower and tell him he had a son. A dying son. The doctor said we had 48 hours before Leo’s organs started failing. 48 hours to convince a man who threw me away to donate his bone marrow to a child he didn’t know existed. I grabbed my purse. My hands were shaking. God help me. God help Leo. Because Damian Wolfe didn’t do mercy . He did revenge . And I was about to become his biggest regret.