The “Cancer Research Project” had been my father’s pride and joy. He’d devoted his life to helping people, and this project was meant to develop new treatments that could actually save lives.

I’d worked through my pregnancy, keeping the project going for months. It was only right before giving birth, when everything was finally starting to fall into place, that I allowed myself to breathe a little.

When I got to the company, my assistant was sweating like she’d run a marathon.

“Miss Genevieve, Mr. Sinclair has handed everything over to Miss Anastasia. Big, small… we don’t even know what’s happening inside.”

I said quietly, steady as I could, “It’s fine. Take me to the president’s office. I know the password to Jordan’s computer.”

Before I could move, Anastasia appeared, blocking the hallway.

“Miss Genevieve, wait,” her chest puffed out, lips swollen and red. I could see hickeys on her neck. She looked… untouchable.

“You can’t go in without the president’s say-so,” she added, her tone dripping with fake authority.

“Move. This is my project. I’ve overseen it from the start, and I have the right to check it myself.”

She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “You let this slide during your pregnancy, and now you want to swoop in and claim it?!”

I stared at her, my jaw tight. “You think you can steal months of work? You think it just falls into your lap? There’s no free lunch.”

She couldn’t stop me. She couldn’t. In her frustration, she started blurting everything she felt, like a child lashing out.

Just then, Jordan arrived, looking flustered. “Genn… why are you here already? You didn’t wait for me.”

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Busy playing house with her, weren’t you? How could you even care about me right now?

I handed him a stack of documents. “Look at this, Jordan. Every original sample, every imported material for the treatments… it’s been swapped for cheap junk. Who changed the suppliers and pocketed the difference?”

He glanced at the papers and frowned, clearly realizing something was off.

Anastasia’s face was drained of color. “I… it’s nothing to do with President Sinclair. I just… I wanted extra money for my son. I didn’t think it would go this far. I’m sorry, Miss Genevieve…”

“Sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re committing fraud. I’m calling the authorities.”

Before I could even finish, a small figure barreled into me, throwing me off balance.

“Mom! Don’t let her hurt you! Dad, make him pay!”

I froze.

Blair Evan Sinclair.

The hit wasn’t hard, but I’d just given birth a month ago. My body was still weak. When that little body slammed into me, pain shot through my stomach and I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped my throat. My vision blurred for a second.

The whole office went quiet.

Jordan rushed over like some heroic husband. “Genn, hey, look at me. Are you hurt? Does it hurt anywhere? Tell me.”

His hands hovered near my shoulders but didn’t really touch me.

Anastasia quickly pulled Blair behind her, wrapping her arms around him like she was shielding him from danger.

“Evan, that’s not polite,” she said gently, but there was no real anger in her voice. “You can’t push people like that. Say sorry to Auntie.”

Auntie? Me? Wow.

Then she looked at me with those watery eyes. “Miss Genevieve, please don't be upset. Don’t take it out on a child. He’s just protective of his mom.”

Protective.

Before I could even respond, Jordan spoke first. “Genn, don’t be harsh on him. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t understand adult matters.”

He turned to Anastasia. “Take Evan downstairs. I’ll talk to Genevieve. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Didn’t mean anything?

I looked straight into Jordan’s eyes. “Explain what, exactly?” I asked slowly. “Explain why he called me a bad woman? Or explain why he called you Dad?”

The air turned heavy.

For a second, Jordan’s face stiffened. Then he forced a smile. “You’re overthinking. Kids call anyone they’re close to Dad sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Really?

I couldn’t stand there and watch them act anymore. I turned and walked out.

Jordan chased after me. “Genevieve, why are you making this a big deal? He’s six! You’re arguing with a six year old now?”

I stopped walking.

Six years old and already that vicious. Who taught him that? Who let him think I was the enemy? Was that not their responsibility?

I clenched my fists. “Kids don’t come up with that kind of hatred on their own. They learn it.”

His expression shifted instantly. He frowned like I’d offended him. “What are you implying? That he’s mine? Genevieve, that’s ridiculous! I only have one child. Our daughter.”

He said it so smoothly. So naturally.

Even now, he was lying.

I let out a laugh that didn’t sound like mine. “Then what’s our daughter’s name?”

He froze.

“You haven’t even named her yet, have you?”

He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

I remembered the name he’d once written in his memo. I’d seen it by accident months ago. He’d written, I hope my child grows up proud and unbreakable. The name attached to that wish had been meant for our baby.

And now that name belonged to Anastasia’s son.

I looked at him steadily. “Her name is Jennifer.”

He swallowed. His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t read, then he softened again, slipping back into that gentle tone.

“Jennifer,” he repeated with a small smile. “That’s beautiful. Bright and warm. Just like you. She’ll always light up your life.”

He reached out like he wanted to touch my hair.

I stepped back slightly.

“I’ve got a business trip for a few days,” he continued, like nothing had happened. “When I get back, we’ll talk properly. I’ll make things clearer for you.”

“Of course,” I cut in. “Work’s important.”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I walked away.

When I got home, I fed Jennifer and rocked her to sleep. She made soft little noises and her eyelashes cast tiny shadows on her cheeks under the lamp.

My phone buzzed.

Anastasia had posted on her Insta.

Three hands stacked together. Jordan’s hand. Her hand. And Blair’s chubby little hand holding a set of car keys.

The caption said something about rewarding their little hero.

A five million dollar car, given like a toy.

Last week I’d reminded Jordan three times to buy imported diapers for his daughter. He’d said he was busy and forgot.

I stared at the screen and suddenly laughed. It sounded sharp and empty.

I saved the screenshot into my evidence folder.

Jennifer shifted in my arms, smacking her lips in her sleep.

I lowered my head and kissed her soft cheek.

“Baby, Mommy will protect you. No matter what.”

…

The next day, after checking all my resources and shares, I booked a flight to Newyork three days later.

Jordan had been texting me nonstop for the past few days, probably trying to keep up his “perfect husband” image.

“Honey, the client today was impossible, but I managed to get them on board.”

“Honey, you’ve been working so hard. The pastries in downtown are amazing. I’ll take you there next time.”

I scrolled through the messages, laughing bitterly to myself. Did he think I didn’t know? Every bonus he quietly funneled into Anastasia’s account had been recorded in my emails. Every cent. And while he was pretending to be the devoted husband, she was posting pictures of herself with stacks of money tucked into her underwear and fresh hickeys all over her body.

I couldn’t help but laugh, a little broken, at how blind I had been. Once upon a time, Jordan had loved me like that. We were childhood sweethearts, everyone envied us. He’d promised under that old banyan tree he’d marry no one but me. In college, he’d chased away every girl who even looked at me, acting like a wolf protecting his territory. He stayed at my bedside for three nights straight when I had my appendix surgery, never sleeping. The first paycheck he earned went straight into my account, with a note that said To my little princess.

But none of that mattered anymore.

A sudden cry cut through my thoughts. The nursery.

“Oh my God, Miss Genevieve! The baby had cut on her thigh and the bleeding… it won’t stop!” The nanny’s hands were shaking, smeared with blood.

My chest dropped. I ran in and grabbed Jennifer. Her tiny cries were fading, but the blood on her leg wouldn’t stop. My arms felt weak but I carried her as fast as I could to the hospital.

The doctor looked at the tests and said, “She had a rare neonatal disorder! Her hemoglobin is dangerously low. She needs a blood transfusion immediately.”

My lips trembled. “Do whatever you can. Give her the IV. I’ll do anything… I’m her mother…”

“Parents can’t give blood directly,” the doctor said calmly, almost detached. “And she’s Rh-negative. We need to check the blood bank first.”

“Then give her a clotting agent. Now!” I yelled, panic clawing through me.

Even after the clotting agent, the blood kept coming. I held her pale little body, tears sliding down my face like they’d never end.

Minutes later, a nurse ran in, sympathy written all over her face. “Miss Genevieve… the Rh-negative blood… it’s all been used up.”

“What? You just said there was some in reserve!” My voice cracked.

The nurse looked down and whispered, “This is a private hospital. Mr. Sinclair’s son needed it urgently. The director moved all the rare blood to the VIP ward.”

Everything inside me froze. Thunderbolt. My chest felt like it had been ripped open.

I was about to call Jordan, to scream at him, when my phone lit up. Anastasia had posted a new Insta story.

“Little rascal scraped his knee? Lucky for you, Dad can get the rarest blood in the whole city in no time.”

I felt like my head was about to explode. I handed Jennifer to the nurse and ran. Up the stairs, up the corridors, my heart hammering.

I kicked open the door to the VIP ward.

Anastasia was there, smiling, playing some game with Evan who was sitting comfortably in the hospital bed. The scrape on his knee looked so minor a band-aid wasn’t even needed.

I froze. My chest burned like ice and fire at the same time. That scene, that happy little mother and her child, stabbed straight into my heart.

I could feel the hatred boiling up, overwhelming me, almost taking over. I couldn’t hold it in.

“Give my daughter the blood!” I screamed.

Her face was full of that smug, triumphant look she always got when she thought she’d won.

“Why are you making such a fuss?” she said, voice sharp. “My son scraped his knee, that’s all.”

I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. “It’s not just a scrape. My daughter… she has a rare neonatal condition. If we wait any longer, she could die!”

The doctor outside heard the shouting and stepped in cautiously. “What’s going on here? If there’s enough blood, could some of it go to this child?”

I looked at him like I was clinging to a lifeline. “Please… my daughter needs Rh-negative blood immediately! If it’s delayed even a little… she won’t survive.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Oh please, Doctor. You know who my husband is. He’s the biggest shareholder in this hospital. Did you forget that? Every drop of Rh-negative blood is reserved for our son. You want to lose your job?”

I felt like someone had punched me in the chest. Everything inside me shattered.

I lunged at the IV stand and grabbed the bag of blood. “You stole my daughter’s life! How could you do this?”

Anastasia screamed, stamping her foot. “Security! Grab her! This crazy woman is trying to steal my son’s blood!”

Two guards rushed over and pinned my arms. My rage flared, hot and wild, and I could feel every heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Anastasia snatched the bag back like she’d won a trophy and held it up. “See this? She tried to take my son’s blood. Drag her out now!”

They pulled me away, my chest heaving, fury and despair mixing into something I could barely breathe.

One of them yelled, “The hospital has enough blood, she’s just making a scene!”

I wanted to scream, to burn this place down with my voice. “I don’t care! My daughter is dying, and she has the right to live!”

The hospital director walked in at the commotion and frowned. “Wait, who’s Mrs. Sinclair here?”

Anastasia waved her phone in his face, showing the electronic marriage certificate. “Look carefully. I am the one President Sinclair married officially. Our Evan is his son. This woman’s child? A mistake. Nothing but a bastard, not even recognized.”

Her words were like knives in my chest. I looked at Nuanxing’s pale little face in my arms and my knees gave out. I fell to the floor right in front of Anastasia.

“Please… please, save my daughter!” I begged, my voice cracking, tears streaming down my face.

The chatter in the hall went silent. Every eye was on us.

Anastasia didn’t even blink. She picked up Jordan’s number and dialed. The moment he answered, her voice was sweet and aggrieved. “Baby, come back! Hurry. Genevieve is trying to steal Evan’s blood. She wants to hurt us. She’s trying to kill our son and me!”

I ripped free from the guards and grabbed the phone. My voice shook, but I forced it to stay strong. “Jordan! Jennifer is cut! She’s severely anemic from a rare condition. She needs a transfusion right now! Tell the hospital to give her the blood, or she will die!”

There was a long silence on the line, and then Jordan’s voice came through, impatient and clipped.

“Genn, the blood’s already been set aside for Evan. He needs it now, so don’t cause a scene and slow things down.”

I felt my chest tighten, my voice breaking. “How much blood does a one-month-old even need?! Your fucking son just scraped his knee, and my daughter is lying in the emergency room, bleeding! She needs it now!”

There was more static on the line before Jordan spoke again, his voice cold, almost suspicious. “A newborn baby with a rare condition? Are you… exaggerating this, Genn? Are you even being honest about your own daughter?”

“Jordan!” My voice cracked, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “She is your daughter! Your own flesh and blood! Can’t you even understand that?”

I could hear the dean whispering near him, all obsequious, like he was afraid to anger the big man. “Mr. Sinclair, what should we do about this woman? She seems… unstable. She insists she’s your wife…”

Jordan was silent for a beat, and when he spoke again, it was icy and distant. “My wife is Anastasia. She’s the one taking care of our son, Evan. I… don’t have a daughter.”

Relief seemed to wash over the room. People looked at me like I’d gone mad.

Anastasia grinned like she’d won. She slammed the bag of Rh-negative blood onto the floor in front of me. “Does your… child even deserve this?” she hissed. Her heel ground the blood into the floor. “I’d rather see it wasted than see it given to you.”

I felt my chest collapse, like someone had crushed it with a stone, and even breathing felt impossible.

The ward door banged shut behind me, cutting me off from everything. I stumbled back to Jennifer Hospital’s ward, cradled my daughter’s tiny cold body, and tears ran over her face like a broken string of pearls. My arms felt so empty, so useless.

Then my phone lit up. Anastasia had posted again on Insta story. She was holding Evan, smiling bright, and in the picture was the transfer Jordan had just made, 500,000 dollars, with a note: “Take care of our son.”

My stomach dropped, and a chill ran straight through me. The warmth in my arms was fading, and I felt completely powerless. How could he pretend to love me all these years, then let her do this?

And just when despair was about to swallow me whole, I heard a clear, calm male voice from the doorway.

“I have Rh-negative blood. I can donate it to your daughter.”

...

Thanks to that stranger who donated 400cc of blood, my daughter was alive. My little girl was finally safe. How messed up is that? Her own father hoarded every drop of Rh-negative blood in the hospital, refusing to give her a single vial, and some stranger just shows up, quietly saves her life, and vanishes without even leaving a name.

Her tiny face slowly got color back, and her little mouth instinctively searched for milk. The nanny leaned closer, “Miss Genevieve, something isn’t right. I’ve always watched her closely. Nothing sharp ever got near her crib.”

I froze. “But the doctor said her wound came from a razor blade… she was lying in her crib the whole time.”

My stomach dropped. The moment I got home, I checked the crib. Hidden in the folds of the velvet sheets were several razor blades, still stained with my daughter’s blood.

My mind went blank. I had asked Jordan to buy that crib during my postpartum period. Did he even know what Anastasia had done? Of course he didn’t care about anything like that. He just told his assistant, “Buy the most expensive one.” And this crib… it was probably through Anastasia’s connections. She had planted those blades.

A chill ran down my spine. Does Jordan even realize that Anastasia tried to kill our daughter? And if he did know, would he do anything to protect her? Or would he just keep pretending to be the perfect husband while letting her die? I didn’t have an answer.

I curled up on the sofa, holding Jennifer close, letting her little body warm mine, and whispered through my tears, “Baby, don’t be scared. Mommy will never let anyone hurt you again.”

At least in two days we’d be gone from all of this, starting fresh somewhere new.

...

When Jordan came home from his trip, he stormed in immediately, his voice fake and sharp. “Genn, you’ve been acting completely out of line lately!”

I looked up at him, gripping Jennifer tighter.

“You went to the hospital, made a scene, and completely ignored how I’d feel,” he continued, his tone almost sweet, but I knew it was all fake. “Did you even think about me?”

I felt a shiver run through me.

He glanced down at my sleeping daughter, his fake concern showing, but I could see right through it. “You used our daughter to stir up trouble, Genn. That’s really disappointing.”

I shook my head, “Jordan, it’s over. Between us, it’s done.”

His hand shot out and gripped my arm. “Over? What do you mean it’s over? We’ve known each other since we were kids! We’ve been together for over ten years. You can’t just throw that away!”