Chapter 4

Michael looked at me as if I were an idiot.

"Are you really this stupid, or are you just playing dumb? Why would Dad love you?" he asked, laughing mockingly. "I'm the one he loves. You're nothing but an investment that's going to make him rich."

"That's enough!" Dad snapped.

Seeing that he had genuinely angered him, Michael fell silent.

He didn't have to say another word. I already knew the truth. Dad never loved me.

When I was 12 years old, I came down with a 104°F fever. In my daze, I remembered Dad constantly running his hand over my forehead and listening to my heartbeat.

At the time, I was convinced it was fatherly love. Looking back, I finally realized what he'd actually been muttering.

"Your heart can't fail. My biggest payday depends on it."

Then, there was the time when I was 14 years old and accidentally bruised my knee.

Dad flew into a rage and slapped me repeatedly. He then locked me in a dark room without food.

I'd seen how he treated Michael when he was worried about him. Real love didn't look anything like that.

"Dad, did you raise me just so you could sell me?"

The last trace of warmth vanished from his face. It was replaced by something ugly.

He must've figured there was no point pretending anymore. As far as he was concerned, I was already on the operating table with nowhere left to run.

"So what if I did?"

He jabbed a finger at my face. "You've been a burden to me ever since you were born. If your worthless mother hadn't cleaned out every last cent I had and run off with another man, I wouldn't have ended up like this!

"Every time I look at you, I see her. It makes me sick! At least you inherited her looks. That's the only thing about you that's worth anything."

He let out a cold laugh. His eyes gleamed with vindictive satisfaction.

"You carry her blood, so you'll pay off her debt. The 50 million dollars the Sullivans are giving us is enough for Michael and me to live in luxury for the rest of our lives. You owe me that, Evan."

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

The sharp pain was the only thing keeping me grounded.

So, that was the truth.

Dad hated my mom, and because I carried her blood, he hated me too. His greed had made it easy for him to treat his own son as nothing more than an organ donor.

I lowered my head to hide the anger burning in my eyes, quietly slipping a hand into the hidden pocket sewn inside my clothes and pressing the stop button on the voice recorder.

I'd traded it with the only valuable thing I had left, a limited-edition watch, with a greedy nurse on the way here.

They were so certain that I wouldn't leave this place alive that they never thought to be careful.

Soon, they wheeled me into the operating room. Ian was already lying on the operating table beside mine.

Saddie was nowhere to be found.

The anesthesiologist walked over. He slid the cold needle into my arm.

My vision blurred, and I could feel my limbs going numb.

"Begin the thoracotomy."

Just as the scalpel was about to touch my skin, someone kicked open the operating room doors. Several bodyguards in black stormed inside and subdued every doctor and nurse in the room within seconds.

I forced my heavy eyelids open and saw a tall figure standing in the doorway.

The moment I recognized her face, the knot in my chest finally loosened.

In the next instant, darkness swallowed me whole.