Ariel Reed tore down the hospital corridor, her heart hammering with fear and desperation. Brodie Wagner caught up to her and pinned her against the wall, his grip firm and unyielding.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Tears flooded Ariel’s eyes as she stared up at him. “Brodie, are you seriously going to make me give her my corneas?” Her voice cracked, raw with anguish.

“Why are you even here? I told Ray to—”

“Mr. Wagner!” Ray Lawrence cut in, breathless and sweating. “By the time I got there, Ms. Reed was already gone. Your phone was off…”

Through the chaos, Maria Reed’s commanding voice rang down the hall, growing louder with every step. “Brodie, catch her!”

“What’s going on, Maria?” Brodie asked as Maria and several doctors rushed toward them. Instinctively, he stepped in front of Ariel, shielding her.

“She’s the reason my daughter’s eyes are ruined. Now Fiona’s doomed to live in darkness forever. Justice demands the culprit pay, Brodie. I’m going to have Ariel’s eyes transplanted into Fiona. Do you object?”

“Have you forgotten basic law?” Ariel shot back, her voice slicing through the chaos. “Your daughter’s misfortune is her own doing. Why should I be the scapegoat for her actions?”

“Let’s talk about this back at home,” Brodie interjected, glancing at the onlookers peeking out from other hospital rooms. He took Ariel by the wrist, ready to head back to the elevator, then paused to address a boy lingering in the shadows. “I hope you’ll reconsider.”

Caught in the tension, Ariel turned to see where Brodie had been looking, but the boy stayed hidden in the darkness, his face obscured. She didn’t notice the flicker of recognition in his eyes when they landed on her.

The boy stood frozen, watching Ariel’s figure retreat until she disappeared around the corner. Once the sensor-activated lights dimmed and he was alone again, his mind buzzed with a flurry of thoughts, though his expression stayed calm as he followed the path the others had taken.

“There’s no bad blood between us. Fiona never intended to harm Ariel. But now that the cause of her blindness is standing right here, what else is there to consider? Brodie, do you truly want Fiona to remain blind for the rest of her life?” Maria implored, desperation thick in her voice.

“Organ donation requires voluntary consent,” Ariel declared boldly. “Mrs. Ashcroft, if you plan to use force, be prepared to face the consequences. I’ll fight until my eyes are returned!”

She stood with her chin lifted defiantly, though inside she was trembling. The combined influence of the Wagner and Reed families could easily dismiss her threats, but she had no other leverage. Once in their grasp, she had to muster whatever courage she could.

“You won’t end up blind, sister,” Fiona said, feigning reassurance as she clutched Brodie’s arm like she needed his support. She wasn’t worried about Ariel’s threats; she cared far more about Brodie’s reaction.

“Brodie promised to find a suitable donor for you. Think of it as saving me. If I don’t have the procedure now, I’ll lose my chance forever, while you can wait. Brodie, help me convince her,” Fiona pleaded, casting a hopeful glance at Brodie.

But Brodie didn’t respond to her plea. Instead, he said, “I’ve arranged something. There’s no time to waste here.”

His willingness to lie made his stance clear.

Even if Fiona couldn’t see through the lie, Brodie’s vague answer was enough to make her seethe inside.

Before she could vent her frustration, Ariel’s voice cut through the tension with icy resolve. “You expect me to wait? Like my daughter has waited for five years, clinging to shattered hope?”

“Don’t think for a second that I don’t know the truth!”

Ariel’s voice burned with anger as she continued. Her daughter, Capri, didn’t have a rare blood type. By the third year of searching, suspicion had crept into Ariel’s heart. By the fourth year, she was nearly certain someone was deliberately blocking their search. The prime suspect—someone who knew Capri’s true parentage—was Fiona, undoubtedly backed by Maria Reed’s considerable influence.

But knowing was one thing; proving it was another. Ariel’s resources were limited, her influence insignificant. She was powerless to fight against them. Desperate to make a move, she had contacted Dr. Dexter Fox, who had secretly arranged for her to return and confront Brodie.

“You can’t just hurl accusations like that!” Fiona protested, incredulity lacing her voice.

Ariel, unwilling to look at Fiona’s feigned innocence, snapped back, “I’ll agree to the transplant.”

Ariel steadied her racing heart and turned to Brodie, a sudden plan forming in her mind. “Allow Brodie to donate to my daughter. Call Dr. Fox and have them bring my daughter and grandfather back. The surgeries should happen simultaneously.”

A single pair of eyes in exchange for her daughter’s safety—she would do it.

For a moment, silence hung over the room.

“Do you agree?” Ariel asked, breaking the stillness.

“Are you so certain I’m a match?” Brodie inquired darkly.

“Dr. Fox came back three months ago, and you had a physical around the same time,” Ariel responded, her voice uneasy. “Brodie, I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I had no choice. I couldn’t just stand by and watch…”

She had matched Brodie secretly. If the test was positive, she’d confront him; if not, she’d vanish like she had five years ago, without a word.

What was he to her—a walking bone marrow bank?

Ariel watched the storm gathering in Brodie’s expression. She longed to explain but couldn’t find the words.

A sudden knock at the door cut through the simmering tension. Dexter Fox leaned in, addressing Brodie. “Mr. Carter has agreed to donate after all. He wants a word with you.”

With that, he exited the room.

Brodie’s gaze bore into Ariel’s. She shifted uncomfortably but whispered, “Who is Mr. Hayes?”

The name tugged at her memory, familiar in a way she couldn’t ignore. Even after all these years, the name stirred something in her.

“It’s none of your concern,” Brodie replied coldly, brushing off her question as he turned to leave.

Ariel’s instinct was to follow, a sense of dread gnawing at her, but Fiona blocked her path.

“Stop right there!”

The arrogance in Fiona’s voice was palpable, any pretense of vulnerability vanished.

“I’m giving you one last chance. Are you sure you won’t consent to the transplant?”

Ariel looked at Fiona as if she were mad. “Not unless you agree to my terms.”

“Fine!” Fiona snapped, her composure vanishing as triumph sparkled in her eyes. “The sins you evade will inevitably be borne by those closest to you. Just make sure you don’t regret it.”

In this world, the only one Ariel truly held dear was her daughter, Capri. Brodie had once been dear to her too, but he hadn’t wanted to stay. Capri, on the other hand, was safe overseas, free from Fiona’s reach. What could she possibly regret?

For a brief moment, Ariel dismissed Fiona’s warning as baseless. But the mention of Frank Hayes lingered in her mind, an unwelcome echo of uncertainty.

Could it be him?

No, it couldn’t be. He was entrenched in a family of greater repute than the Wagners, beyond anyone’s manipulation.

“Focus on yourself,” Ariel retorted, striding from the room, though her confidence wavered.

Still, worry gnawed at her. She made her way to Dr. Thompson’s office, hoping to glean more information.

Neither Dexter nor Brodie was there, and her frantic search throughout the hospital turned up nothing. Turning a corner, she collided with someone unexpected.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, stumbling into the man’s arms, only to be yanked away.

“Where are you going?” Brodie demanded impatiently, pulling her from the stranger’s embrace.

Ariel didn’t hear him. Her heart was pounding as she looked up at the man she’d run into, his face a shadowed fragment from her past.

“Victor…” she murmured softly, barely daring to believe it.

Had it really been twelve years? She hadn’t seen him since, and she hadn’t spoken his name aloud once in all that time.

“Victor, is that you?” The boy stayed quiet, trying to slip away, his face pale as a ghost.

“Victor!” Ariel grabbed his shirt, yanking herself free from Brodie Wagner’s grip. “Why won’t you talk to me?” Tears spilled down her cheeks—unstoppable, a flood of emotion she hadn’t even known was there. “It’s me. Ariel Reed. Your sister. Don’t you know me?”

She tugged down her sleeve, baring the birthmark on her shoulder. “Remember? You used to say you wanted one just like it on your back when you were little.”

Brodie watched them, his expression darkening the second he saw the birthmark.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t Mom send you back to the Lawrence family? Are you okay? You’ve grown so much…” Ariel’s words rushed out, then faded to a whisper. “I missed you so much…”

The boy stayed silent, head bowed—not denying her, not confirming anything. He just listened, unmoving, while she poured out memories and longing.

Only then did Brodie really understand why Victor had agreed to the transplant—and why he’d asked for Ariel to visit him after the surgery.

“You need to get ready,” Brodie said, pulling Ariel back before she could fire off another endless round of questions.

“Ready for what?” Ariel shot back. “Are you really going to let Victor donate for Fiona’s transplant? Is that what she meant—using the person I care about most to get back at me?”

“No. I don’t agree. I won’t allow it!” She spread her arms in front of Victor, protective as a mother hen shielding her chick. “Neither of us owes her anything. Why should he give up his sight for her?”

“His girlfriend was in an accident. She needs the money,” Brodie said.

“How much? I’ll pay it. I have money!”

“Two million dollars. Do you have it?”

The words knocked the fire right out of her. Almost instantly.

“Then… what about the Lawrence family? Victor, aren’t you the Lawrence family’s second son? Didn’t Mom send you back to them?”

Her voice wavered, her confidence draining fast. She understood: if Victor were really the Lawrence heir, none of this would be happening.

Victor stayed silent. But Brodie remembered the rumors from over a decade ago—how the Lawrence family had supposedly found an illegitimate son after their real son was kidnapped. Then the real heir came back, and nothing more was ever said about the alleged illegitimate child.

“They never had a second son,” Brodie said.

“How can that be? That’s impossible!” Ariel muttered, then realized that wasn’t the most urgent problem. She asked Brodie for his phone to make a call, but it was dead. Undeterred, she turned to Victor—but he only shook his head, either not having one or refusing to lend it. Her eyes darted around until she spotted a passerby and immediately borrowed a phone.

She dialed her grandfather Bruce Reed’s number, holding her breath. Thank God, he answered fast.

“Grandpa, I need money. Could you lend me two million? Please?”

Bruce Reed refused. Truth was, he’d never favored Ariel—his illegitimate granddaughter. Pressuring her into marrying Brodie Wagner had been pure transaction: she was the perfect match to save his beloved youngest daughter Jenny Reed’s kidneys. Her mother got the money; Ariel lost a kidney. Deal done, long ago. The fact that he’d even helped her treat Capri was a mercy. How could she expect him to block his real granddaughter’s treatment now?

She’d been fooling herself, thinking she could play him without showing her real hand. She’d overestimated herself—and underestimated Bruce’s cold indifference.

“And don’t bother Dexter Fox. He’s done enough for you,” Bruce warned, then hung up.

“Mr. Wagner. Mr. Hayes. The surgery is ready to proceed,” Dr. Zachary Thompson announced, appearing out of nowhere.

“No! You can’t do this! I won’t let you!” Ariel blocked Victor, searching Brodie’s eyes. “This has to be her doing. Fiona is doing this to get back at me…”

“Was the car accident her doing, too?” Brodie asked, cold.

“Then take me instead. Brodie, I won’t use you as a bargaining chip anymore. I agree to the surgery. I agree to donate my eyes,” she declared, firm. “But Brodie, you promised me. You’ll help me see the light again. Don’t break your promise.”

Brodie frowned at her tear-filled eyes, forced to face the small part of himself he’d been denying. When Fiona’s blindness sent him into a rage, he’d locked Ariel away in an isolated cottage—anger driving him. But underneath it all was the unspoken hope that Fiona would insist on the transplant. Because he couldn’t bear to see it: the utter dimming of Ariel’s eyes.

He was captivated by those eyes—like an artist starving for inspiration, a desert craving a spring, the rare glow of fireflies on a summer night.

“It’s too late. The contract is signed, and the accident surgery is done,” Brodie said quietly. “I’ll find Victor a suitable cornea. He won’t be blind forever.”

“Take him to prep now,” he instructed Dr. Thompson, keeping his grip on Ariel’s arm.

“No! Victor, don’t go with him! I’ll think of something, I promise!” Ariel fought hard, but Brodie’s hold didn’t budge. Helpless, she watched Victor walk away with Dr. Thompson, unable to break free.

“Victor, don’t go! Please, don’t go, Victor—”

“Ariel, calm down!” Brodie gritted his teeth as her fingernails dug little crescents into his skin, his temper climbing.

Victor stopped and turned back. “Sister…” he called softly.

“Sis, you know… from the moment Mom sent me to the Lawrence family, my world went dark. That’s why I’m not scared now. Honestly? I’m happy. Because I know when this is over, you’ll be there—and my light will come back.”

He bent down and kissed Ariel’s forehead, soft—just like she used to do when they were kids.

“Wait for me.”

Ariel watched him walk farther away, every step carrying him toward the darkness—all because of her. She crumpled at Brodie’s feet, unable to even cry.

How could she deserve this?

When they were younger, their mother said Victor had gone to live with a wealthy family. Ariel had wondered if he really wanted to leave, but time and distance convinced her: a child had no say in things like that.

As an adult, she hadn’t looked for Victor. Hadn’t checked if he was okay. She’d justified it by telling herself, “Wealthy families don’t claim poor relatives.”

And now? What had she done? She was sending her own brother into darkness.

She couldn’t bear it. She wasn’t worthy of his sacrifice.

Her breathing turned erratic. Sensing it, Brodie started to kneel and check on her—but she suddenly shot up. She raised her foot to move forward, and her strength gave out. She collapsed.

He reached out and caught her awkwardly, going down to the floor with her. Thank God the fall wasn’t bad. He cradled her in his arms, taking in the cold sweat on her skin, her pale, unconscious face.