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!”

I felt like someone had just jabbed a needle into my chest. “Didn’t you just say on the phone that Anastasia is your wife and Blair Evan is your son? So why act pathetic now?”

Jordan didn’t meet my eyes. He turned his face away, looking guilty, “Genevieve, that was an emergency. The staff at that private hospital all know Mrs. Sinclair. If they hear the truth, they might refuse to give Evan his blood. I had no choice.”

No choice? My chest tightened and my tears burned my eyes. I wanted to tell him that we weren’t just a name on paper, that the whole thing was fake, but the words stuck in my throat.

Then he squinted at me, his voice too calm, too smooth, “So you’re jealous of Anastasia, right? You think I care about her more than you? You’re letting your feelings for me make you use your daughter to compete?”

My jaw dropped. “That’s insane! You think I’d ever—”

“Come on, Genn. Just because she had a son and you had a daughter, you deliberately try to cause trouble? Admit it.” He didn’t even give me a chance to speak.

Then his phone rang, and he glanced at it. “Stay home, reflect on your behavior. Don’t even go to the company today.” And he was gone, leaving me shaking and furious.

My chest burned and my hands trembled. The fake marriage certificate I had with him meant I couldn’t even touch Anastasia legally. Not a single thing in this house was safe from her. Not a single thing that belonged to me.

I counted my shares again, thinking about transferring them quietly to protect what was mine, to make sure Anastasia didn’t get even a fraction. But before I could even move, my phone rang.

“Miss Genevieve! You need to come back immediately.”

“What is it?” I asked, my heart hammering.

“The woman claiming to be Mr. Sinclair’s assistant… she just barged in with a child. She says Mr. Sinclair personally told her to come in. We couldn’t stop her.”

Anastasia. My fingers went white around the phone. I didn’t even think. I drove home like my life depended on it.

The nanny was pacing when I got there. Her voice trembled as soon as she saw me. “Miss, I couldn’t stop them at all… Mr. Sinclair personally called and told them to come in.”

I pushed past her and froze for a second. Blair Evan was lying on the floor, rolling colorful marbles everywhere. He spotted me and screamed, “Mommy, look! That wicked woman who stole my blood is back!”

Anastasia was in front of Jennifer’s crib, fingers hovering near her cheek, smiling like she had done nothing wrong.

I ran at her and shoved her hard. She stumbled back a little but didn’t even look mad. She just smiled, all smug and cold.

“Genevieve, let me make this very clear to you,” she said slowly, “Jordan and I are legally married. You’re just a mistress who can’t be seen in public. This house? It’s ours. I can kick you out whenever I want.”

I felt every word like a knife in my chest. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, my fingers clutching the edge of the crib until they went white. “I didn’t even want that kind of trash Jordan a long time ago. I’m done with him. But before I leave, get out of here. Or I’ll call the media and expose everything you’ve done.”

Anastasia screeched, her face red and veins popping, “Who do you think you are? You don’t get to talk to me like that! The law’s on my side, not yours! You should be leaving, not me, you crazy woman!”

I lifted my chin and stared at her coolly, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “The law? Even if I walked away, I’ve got the Sinclair and Fitzwilliam family backing me up. And you? A nanny who seduces her boss and hides behind a piece of paper calling yourself his wife. You think that marriage certificate makes you anything? Jordan wouldn’t dare show you off in public, would he? You two are just hiding in the shadows, like cowards.”

“Shut up!” Anastasia’s eyes were wild, burning with hatred. She swung her hand and slapped me across the face hard.

The smack echoed, and my cheek stung, but I didn’t flinch. I hit her back harder, letting her feel every ounce of my rage. The cameras in the living room would show the truth anyway.

Then I froze. A tiny, whimpering sound came from the crib. My heart stopped. I whipped around, eyes wide, and saw what Blair Evan had just shoved into Jennifer’s mouth.

A glass marble.

“Jennifer!” I screamed, rushing over like a lunatic. I grabbed her into my arms, patting her back, my fingers shaking. “Spit it out now, baby! Mommy’s here, it’s okay!”

Jordan stormed in like a hurricane, his face dark. “What are you doing to our daughter?”

Anastasia flew to his side, her voice all fake sweetness and panic. “Baby, you’re back! Don’t worry, Evan just wanted to play with her using the marbles. He didn’t mean anything, Genevieve, calm down.”

Calm down? My voice cracked as I tried to pry Jennifer’s mouth open. “Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay now… Mommy’s here, you’re safe…”

Jordan snatched Jennifer out of my arms. “Are you insane? You’ll hurt her if you keep this up!”

Snap.

I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. “You think you get to play judge now? Look at what your little bastard did to my daughter!”

Jennifer vomited violently at the sound, and a marble rolled across the carpet with a heavy thud. She cried out, her tiny face bright red, and my own chest ached watching her.

“Did you see that?!” I pointed at the marbles, my eyes red and burning. “That little bastard shoved marbles into your newborn daughter’s mouth! Are you blind or just another useless bastard like your father?!”