Four Parents, Zero Love

The insurance representative was silent for two seconds.

"Sir, a retirement policy doesn't mean you have to live until sixty before you can collect anything. If the insured dies before then, the policy will pay out the death benefit according to the contract."

I understood.

If Dominic lived, he'd have a retirement payout. If he died, he could still leave a substantial sum to both families.

Either way, the $2.6 million wouldn't go to waste, unless it was spent on me.

I hung up and returned to the hematology department. The doctor, Griffin Ashford, pushed two reports toward me.

"There was a labeling error when the samples were sent out. We went back and verified the genetic information. Your bloodwork is fine. Dominic is the one who actually needs the transplant."

In the bottom-right corner of the report, all four parents had failed the compatibility test.

Next to my name, it said, "Full Match."

"He doesn't have much time. The hospital has already notified both families to come back for another round of testing."

Griffin lowered his voice. "They may come looking for you."

I pulled up the two newly signed agreements on my phone.

The agreements severing our family ties—the ones they'd forced me to sign the day before because they were afraid I'd become a burden.

Now, they were concrete proof that I had no further ties to them.

A nurse came over to confirm my emergency contact. I changed the name from Elise to Maxwell Sterling.

He'd been my college roommate, and he was also a lawyer.

The night he found out I was sick, he drove through the night to see me and handed me the money he'd set aside to buy a house.

My four parents couldn't even pool together $50,000.

A friend I'd known for six years was willing to give me his down payment.

I didn't have to die anymore. But I didn't have a family anymore, either.

I had barely left the hospital when my adoptive mother, Sylvia Norwood, called. "Come home tonight and pack your things. Dominic isn't doing well and needs peace and quiet. We're giving him your room."

The hospital hadn't even told them about the new test results.

In their eyes, I was going to die soon. Yet, they were already in a hurry to clear out my room.

"Got it."

Sylvia paused, then added, "Today is the day Dominic's insurance takes effect. We're having dinner to celebrate. Don't ruin the mood, got it?"

They'd bought a retirement policy for a twenty-three-year-old, and they were celebrating it.

"Sure. I'll try not to spoil the evening."

"And take whatever medicine you haven't finished with you. Dominic can't stand the smell of medicine. It's bad luck."

…

When I arrived at my adoptive parents' house, the code to the door had already been changed.

I rang the doorbell three times.

Lillian Montclair, my sister for eighteen years, finally came to open the door. She blocked the entrance. "Where are your shoe covers?"

"I've lived here for a long time."

"That was back then. Dominic likes things clean now."

I put on the shoe covers before she finally stepped aside.

There was a cake sitting in the living room. Written across the top were the words, "Wishing Dominic a Lifetime of Happiness."

All four parents sat around the dining table, with six place settings.

At my usual spot, there was nothing but a box of leftover food.

Sylvia waved me over. "What are you standing there for? Come eat."

Last New Year's Eve, they had their family dinner while I sat out in the hallway.

This time, at least they saved me some leftovers.

Perhaps I should even be grateful they'd shown me some last-minute kindness and treated me a little better, thinking I was about to die.

Dominic sat between all four parents, four gold charms hanging around his neck. They were all blessings for a long life. He smiled at me. "Don't get the wrong idea, Lachlan. Our parents insisted on buying them."

Corbin immediately chimed in, "It's just for good luck, unlike some people who were born unlucky and spend their whole lives blaming everyone else for it."

I left my key on the cabinet by the door. "I'll leave as soon as I've packed my things. You won't have to change the door code again. I won't be coming back."

My biological father, Rafael Wexley, scoffed. "Here we go again. Lachlan, who has time to put up with this every day?"

I ignored him and pushed open my bedroom door.

A family photo of the six of them sat on the table. I had been cut out of it.

Once, that would have hurt. Now, it was exactly what I wanted.