ONE

INTRO

"Hello..." There was genuine sadness in her voice, but I could not be too sure. I reclined in the chair, feet propped up, glaring at my P.A. I did not understand why she thought I should be the one to handle it. What exactly had the woman said? Static on the line interrupted my train of thought, and I remembered I was on a call.

"Sorry... who is this?"

"It doesn't matter. Just come. He needs you."

Her incoherent sentences annoyed me, but I probed further since I hadn't the slightest idea what she meant.

"I'm sorry, who needs me?"

"Adonis. Your son." The female voice retorted.

Her answer amused me. This wasn't the first time I'd gotten calls like this, but it had to be the most absurd. I'd gotten "I'm carrying your baby" and "I have our tape," but this? Comedy gold.

Combing my fingers through my hair, I told her point-blank. "Sorry, miss. You've got the wrong person. I use condoms, and there is no way I'd have a son I didn't know existed." I brought the phone down, about to hit the red button, when her pleading voice stopped me.

"I beg you, Gregor Vallis. Adonis needs a blood donor and needs one now. He might die soon, and I know you don't believe anything I'm saying, but you have to. Gregor, you have a son dying right now at Petrina Memorial, and right now, you're his best shot at a match in time. Don't let him die..."

There was something in her voice. The desperation… The honesty... She could not be lying, or maybe I was the one being crazy here. But how could I have a son?

***

JUSTINA

I made my way out of the home I'd been babysitting in, sure I'd be late to the diner. I still had to pick up Adonis. His school had let out thirty minutes ago, but the parents of the boys I babysat never came home early. My legs wobbled as I walked briskly to the side of the road and flagged down a taxi.

"Goldenlaws Primary School," I told the dark figure in the driver's seat.

The vehicle pulled away, and I stared through the open window, trying to enjoy the scenery Greece had to offer. It had been so long since I'd enjoyed anything. Between rotating two jobs to save for college, keeping a roof over my head, grieving my sister's death, and raising my son, there wasn't much room left for the world to offer me anything. The taxi halted in front of the school's gates. I paid the driver and went inside.

"Ms. Biro?" A familiar voice called my name. I looked up to see the headmaster, a middle-aged man of about forty. I frowned instantly, sure I was about to be handed a fine. I walked toward him, dreading it, and then I noticed he didn't have his signature frown. This time he looked worried. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"I'm really sorry. I couldn't leave my job abruptly. I hope you understand..."

Flashes of what the welfare authorities had threatened crippled me with fear. I could not lose Adonis. I'd rather die than let some childless, wealthy couple snatch him away from me. I prayed the headmaster would let it go. This was only a slip-up.

"Ms. Biro," the man interrupted, removing the spectacles that framed his small, round face. "Adonis isn't here."

"What!" I cut in, feeling the blood in my veins go cold. They wouldn't.

"We tried calling, but you didn't pick up..." His apprehensive voice gave me goosebumps. Had something happened to my Adonis?

I checked my phone. I'd put it on silent while babysitting, mostly to avoid a call from my boss at the diner. Fifty missed calls, and a wall of messages stared back at me. I tried to focus on what the headmaster was saying, but I couldn't concentrate. I opened the first message that mentioned Adonis.

Adonis slumped in class and has been rushed to the hospital. Please come as soon as you can.

The words shook me to the core.

"Where is he? Where is Adonis!"

"He's been admitted to Petrina Memorial." His words were somber.

"Take me there," I said.

My mind reeled the whole way to the hospital. What had happened? Was Adonis all right? A million questions ran through my head. I had already lost a good friend and sister. I could not bear losing a son too. The headmaster tried to reassure me the entire drive, and none of it helped. It wasn't normal for a healthy seven-year-old to just slump over. The car pulled into the parking lot at Petrina Memorial, and praying for good news, I hurried through the doors. The hallway was crammed with patients on trolleys, some tended by exhausted families, some alone. It wasn't an encouraging sight. My hopeful pace through the flickering hallway faltered. I wasn't sure I could handle bad news. My eyes welled up just imagining it. Thank God the headmaster was there for moral support. I distracted myself with the dull decor of the children's ward. Above every door hung a plastic sign, dark with white lettering, no fancy fonts, just bold and all-caps. We stopped at door eighteen. I sucked in a breath the second it opened.

There he was. My Adonis, tagged with beeping machines. His teacher sat by his side. She gave me a tired smile, as if to say everything was okay, but I refused to believe it. Not until I saw for myself how he was faring. I rushed to his side, examining his unresponsive body. His naturally tanned skin had gone pale, and his raven hair had lost its sheen. He hadn't looked like this when I dropped him at school.

I felt his pulse. It was weak and worrying.

"Did they say what's wrong with him?" I asked his teacher, but she only shook her head.

"The doctor will be coming soon," she said.

I stayed beside Adonis, holding his hand, praying for a miracle. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't notice the doctor come in until his touch startled me back to reality.

"You're his mother, I assume?" he asked.

"Yes. What's wrong with him?"

The young doctor's eyes flicked around the room before he spoke. "Could we have this conversation in my office?"

"No! Tell me what's wrong with him now!"

I didn't have time for the runaround. Everyone here cared about Adonis, so I saw no reason for some private conversation.

"Your son has severe anemia, and his blood work has revealed something more complicated. He has a rare blood type, and we've also identified an antibody profile that makes it more difficult to find compatible blood. He needs a transfusion urgently," the doctor said, keeping his face carefully neutral despite the news.

"Well, get him blood!" I ordered, the reality of it finally landing.

"Our bank doesn't have any matching units on hand. We've submitted a request to the central blood bank, but due to the rarity of his profile, locating and transporting a suitable unit could take several hours. If you don't mind, we'd like to test your blood in the meantime. It's not a guarantee, but immediate family sometimes gives us our fastest shot at a match while we wait on the transfer."

No. I already knew from Adonis's last blood work that our types didn't line up. It made sense too. There was no reason to think that had changed.

"I... don't think I'll match," I said, earning startled looks from everyone. "We've tested before. We're not compatible."

The doctor scratched his head, and I knew what was coming. Bad news.

"Is his biological father perhaps available?"

My stomach dropped.

"Why?"

"His blood profile isn't a common one, and we're racing the clock on that transfer. If his father is reachable, we'd like to test him too. We can't assume he'll be compatible, but given how difficult it is to source his blood type, we shouldn't overlook a potential donor. Plus, His condition could worsen if he doesn't get a transfusion today or tomorrow." His voice was sharp, firm. He meant business.

Silence followed.

Complete silence.

The doctor glanced toward the machines beside Adonis, his expression hardening.

"We'll continue working with the blood bank regardless. But if his father is reachable, I strongly recommend that you contact him now."

Wordlessly, I knew what I had to do. I hated it, but I could never avoid it, not with Adonis's life on the line. Adonis's father had to know.