Chapter 4

My mom paced frantically out of sheer panic. With no other choice, she went back to find Dad.

"What exactly is Bailey's Social Security information?!"

Dad, who was busy holding Abigail, shoved my mom out of the way with total impatience.

Abigail rolled her eyes at my mom.

"My son is going to be an only child. Why on earth would we register a money-sink like your daughter in the system?"

As if only just realizing it, Dad showed absolutely no remorse.

"I never filed her birth certificate or got her a Social Security card. If she's not on the grid, the government can't come after me for child support later. Besides, it's not like she needs it now."

Mom's eyes flared with pure, hot rage.

"But Bailey is supposed to start elementary school soon! Right now, the hospital won't even admit her!"

Abigail clutched her stomach, leaning weakly into Dad's arms. "Honey, every time they get close to me, my entire body feels uncomfortable."

Dad, who had been about to reach out and touch my hand, pulled his arm back and waved my mom away impatiently.

"She's not in the system, which means you can just take the kid and leave. Aren't you satisfied now?"

Mom clung tightly to Dad's arm. "You can't leave! Bailey needs medical treatment! Give me my phone and some money!"

Dad was just about to lose his temper when Abigail leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

To my surprise, he actually agreed.

"Fine. I'll take her to a clinic."

Mom didn't care about anything else at that point and hurriedly followed them out. "Bailey, just hang in there a little longer."

I opened my eyes groggily to find us inside Dad's new car.

The backseat was incredibly spacious, but the smell of cologne made my stomach churn.

Abigail immediately started shrieking. "Watch that kid! Don't let her puke in the car! It's disgusting!"

Dad glanced at me through the rearview mirror. He didn't say a word, but he pressed harder on the gas.

The moment we arrived at the shady, run-down clinic, he carried me inside and called for the doctor.

"I contacted and paid you earlier. Draw 400 milliliters of blood."

The doctor nodded and immediately pulled out a prepared syringe.

Mom was completely shell-shocked. "Why are you drawing her blood?!"

Dad held Mom down as she tried to rush forward and grab me.

"The hospital said Abigail is a bit anemic and needs a boost. Bailey has the same blood type, and a kid's blood is clean. It's just a quick draw. She'll be fine."

The needle pierced deep into my arm. It hurt so badly, and my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

"Bailey!"

Mom struggled with everything she had, but Dad shoved her so hard that she crashed to the floor, cutting her forehead wide open.

"How can you be so vicious?! Forcing a six-year-old to give blood? She's burning up with a fever! You're going to kill her!"

I began to vomit violently, and a flash of panic finally crossed Dad's eyes.

Abigail, though, merely covered her nose and complained, "I don't even want this blood anymore. Who knows what kind of diseases this little brat has? I can't let her harm my son!"

"Then pump it back into her and write her a prescription for some medication."

Dad pulled out his phone, preparing to pay.

Suddenly, Abigail stumbled against the desk. The blood bag was swept off the counter and knocked onto the floor, spilling everywhere.

"Ah! The sight of blood makes me faint!" she shrieked, falling straight backward.

Dad was quick enough to catch her in his arms.

My vision began to blur, and my entire body shook uncontrollably. "Mom... I'm so cold..."

The doctor examined my condition, looking alarmed. "The child is suffering from acute blood loss. Get her to a hospital for a transfusion right now!"

Mom looked at Dad in utter desperation.

"She's undocumented! You share the same blood type as our daughter. Please save her!"

A flicker of hesitation passed through Dad's eyes, and he began to roll up his sleeve. However, right then, Abigail completely blacked out.

The small clinic doctor, terrified of taking the blame, frantically yelled that they had to go to a major hospital.

Dad quickly scooped Abigail up into his arms.

I heard the brutal sound of my mom collapsing onto the floor. "Chris! Give our daughter your blood first! I beg you!"

Dad looked down at the woman in his arms. In the end, he brushed Mom's hands away.

He then threw her phone down on the floor. "I'll come find you once Abigail is stable!"

With that, he left without looking back once.

Warm liquid dripped onto my face. My throat felt like it was being sliced by knives, making my voice terribly hoarse.

"Mom... don't cry..."

Mom only cried harder. She turned to the clinic owner.

"My daughter is Type B. Please help me find a way. I'll give you my phone in exchange."

The owner took one look at the old, beaten-up phone and waved his hands frantically.

"Get out of here! I can't treat her here! Don't drag us down with you!"

"You're the ones who drew my daughter's blood! If anything happens to her, I'll take you down to hell with me!" Mom suddenly roared.

Having already taken Dad's money, the clinic owner felt guilty. He grabbed a few bottles of medicine from the counter.

"Here, fever reducers. No charge.

"Go check the alleyway in the back. There might be someone selling blood off-the-books."

A torrential downpour began to fall outside.

I grew colder and colder, feeling as though my body was floating away.

"Bailey, wake up. Don't scare me..."

…

Third-person POV

Chris was run ragged by Abigail until dawn. Finally, he remembered his daughter, who was still supposedly sick.

He wanted to check in on the situation. However, when he unlocked his phone, he discovered dozens of missed calls.

Panicked, he hurriedly dialed back.

His foreman's frantic voice boomed through the receiver. "Chris, you finally picked up!

"The storm last night flooded the site. The structure collapsed and crushed two workers to death!

"There's more. Around midnight, I saw your ex-wife bring the kid back here. But that tin shack was completely flattened by falling steel rebars..."