Jd Hawkins

I suffered a bloodline rejection. On the day I was forcibly pushed into labor, Serena Cole happened to be giving birth as well. She was the mate of Adrian Cole’s late older brother, Marcus Cole. As the contractions rose and fell like lunar tides, crashing over my body again and again, I begged Adrian to find a midwife for me. What I received instead was his furious scolding. "Stop pretending. Your due date is in a month. Today is Serena’s due date, yet you insist on choosing this moment to compete with her for attention." Clenching his clothes and enduring the searing contractions, I pleaded through the pain, "The pup is coming now. Please, I’m in agony. I’m going to die from the pain. Just find a midwife. Anyone will do…" The pup inside me was too strong. It tore relentlessly through my mixed-blood body. Adrian, however, coldly pried my fingers away. "Stop lying to me. Your body is very strong. How could pregnancy possibly cause you this much pain? "Before Marcus died, he made me swear to take good care of Serena. The pup she is carrying is his only bloodline. Nothing can go wrong." He locked me inside the room and reassigned every single midwife away. The servants tied me to the bed and force-fed me labor-delaying agents. My lower abdomen was crushed repeatedly with wooden rods. Edgar Hawkins, the butler, looked at me without a trace of emotion and said flatly, "The Alpha has given his order. Only the first pup of the family may become the pack’s heir. You are not allowed to give birth before Serena and steal the heir’s position."

My sister, Anna Hawkins, and I are twins, but I'm slightly heavier than her when we were born. Anna has always been weak and sickly since young, whereas I'm always active and healthy. When Anna was four years old, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Mom blamed me for stealing Anna's nutrients when I got born, so I needed to return the nutrients to her. When I got my blood extracted for the first time, a thick syringe was used on me. I was so scared when I saw it. Mom told me not to be scared. She gave me a magical pen, stating that whatever wish I wrote down with the pen would come true. I wrote, "It won't hurt." When the syringe was plunged into my arm again, Mom bought me a sweet lollipop. The pain never struck me again afterward. When I was five years old, I drew a strawberry cake on the paper while getting 1000cc blood withdrawn from me. That week, Anna could sit up in bed and play on her own. When I turned seven years old, I wrote down my wish that I'd like to go on a vacation. The next day, I was sent into the operating theater for the doctors to collect my hematopoietic cells. For the first time ever, Anna's cheeks became rosy. When I was eight years old, I wrote that I wanted to become the top student of my grade. But a day before my exams, my bone marrow was drawn from me. Anna finally got discharged by the hospital. She got to wear new dresses that I never got to wear. In the year I turn nine years old, my body is heavily depleted. With a trembling hand, I can only write down a line in messy handwriting. "I hope… that I won't become Mom's daughter in my next life."