Hunter held Iris in his arms as they watched Morgan being wheeled into the intensive care unit. The little girl took after Oliver’s rare type and was getting the necessary amount of blood to stabilize her condition. Through the windows, her frail and small figure could be seen – connected to several machines, blinking and beeping, monitoring her vitals. Her face was white as sheet and the visible bruises on her cheeks and arms brought a sting to his heart.
Clutching onto Iris’ hand, a pang of guilt hit him in the gut.
Seeing an energetic child reduced to such a state would break anyone’s heart. His little girl should be running around their living room or doodling in her diary, smiling excitedly while calling him daddy. She should be chattering endlessly about her day at school with her
