Chapter 1
My daughter Joy, and my husband's godson Lucas were both diagnosed with acute leukemia on the same day.
The doctor said cord blood could save them.
My husband's adopted sister, Sophia Palmer, knelt before me with her son in her arms. She knocked her forehead against the floor, over and over, hundreds of times.
"Claire, please. Please let me have the cord blood. Lucas lost his father the day he was born. I never stored any cord blood for him. I'm begging you — have mercy on us. He's all I have. Please, save my son."
I refused without hesitation. I couldn't gamble with my daughter's life.
But on the day of Joy's surgery, Grant Palmer, my husband, drove his car straight into me.
The wheels rolled over my thighbone, back and forth. The pain nearly dragged me under.
He stood over me as I writhed in a pool of my own blood, his expression unreadable.
"Claire, I'm sorry. I had no choice. I had to do this for Lucas. You shouldn't have fought Sophia for the cord blood.
Lucas's condition is far more critical. If anyone should be saved first, it's him."
I was rushed into emergency surgery. He took the cord blood and gave it to Sophia's son.
When I woke up in my hospital bed, the only thing waiting for me was a death certificate.
Cause of death: Asphyxiation due to intracranial hemorrhage.
Those words were printed across Joy's certificate in stark black ink.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking. My vision blurred.
Outside the room, I could hear celebration — loud, joyful, suffocating.
A crowd had gathered to congratulate Sophia. Lucas's surgery had been a success.
Grant was beaming, cradling Lucas in his arms, gently squeezing the baby's tiny fingers.
"I knew this little guy was a fighter. The surgery went perfectly. Our Lucas is going to grow up just like any other healthy kid."
Every word was a blade between my ribs.
My daughter, Joy. She had just turned one month old. She was supposed to grow up healthy too.
Now she was dead. In this very hospital.
Tears the size of raindrops splattered onto the paper in my hands.
Grant walked into my room. Behind him trailed Mrs. Hudson and Sophia.
When he saw I was awake, his face lit up. He held Lucas out toward me.
"Claire, look! Lucas's treatment was a huge success! Can you believe it? The doctor said the odds were low, but he pulled through. Lucas really is our lucky star..."
He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes met mine, red, swollen, burning.
The words died in his throat.
A flicker of guilt crossed his face as he remembered what he'd done to me to save Lucas.
Sophia rushed to my bedside and dropped to her knees.
"Claire, thank you. If it weren't for you, Lucas's surgery never would have succeeded."
Grant and Mrs. Hudson watched her kneel and immediately looked distressed for her.
Mrs. Hudson's gaze landed on me with barely concealed irritation. She yanked Sophia back to her feet.
"That's enough. She got the point. Her daughter was that sick anyway. The cord blood should have gone to Lucas from the start."
They were still basking in the glow of Lucas's recovery.
Not one of them knew that my daughter was already dead.
Seeing the dazed look on my face, Grant sighed.
"Just focus on healing. I know what I did, and I know you're upset. But Lucas is my godson. My mother adores him. What was I supposed to do?
Hate me if you want. Blame me. But don't take it out on Sophia. I'll figure something out for Joy. I promise."
He admitted everything he'd done. And there wasn't a single trace of regret in his eyes.
For someone else's son, he'd abandoned his own daughter.
My heart plummeted. I stared at him, eyes bloodshot.
"Joy just turned one month old. Did you even think about her? She's YOUR daughter, your flesh and blood!
Every single one of you is so selfish. Did any of you stop to think about what would happen to MY child?!"
