Blood Ties in the Snow

On Christmas Eve, my husband, a renowned chief surgeon, personally sealed away my son’s only chance at survival.

My son, Leo, was bleeding internally and needed emergency surgery.

Dr. James Vance, his father and a compatible RH-negative AB blood donor, was instead by the bedside of Serena, the woman he loved, simply because she had cut her finger.

I stood outside in the snow, crying and pleading with him. “James, Leo really is your son. Please, just give him some blood!”

He looked down at me coldly through the glass, not even glancing at the unconscious Leo.

“Scarlett, I’ve seen the medical report. To extort money, you’d even fake that illegitimate child’s death?”

Because he refused to believe me, Serena crushed Leo’s last dose of life-saving medication right before my eyes.

I could only watch helplessly as my son stopped breathing in convulsive agony.

Dr. James Vance, when you finally learn Leo was your biological son, will you regret it?

Scarlett POV

The night before Christmas Eve, fireworks burst outside my window while I coughed blood into my hands in the bathroom.

My phone screen lit up, the top trending headline searing my eyes: “Dr. James Vance Rushes Across Town for Love, Protecting Serena Hayes’ Scratched Finger.”

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, looked at my pale face in the mirror, and chuckled softly. “James, this is your last year with me.”

In the empty mansion, a meticulously prepared holiday dinner slowly grew cold.

The crystal chandelier cast a cold glow over the fine dinnerware.

I had laid the table for three.

One for me.

One for James.

And a small one for my secret-my son, Leo, hidden upstairs.

This would be my last holiday after being diagnosed with advanced coagulation disorder.

I wanted to leave my child and myself at least one warm memory.

Even if that memory was a facade, painstakingly built with my last strength.

A faint sound came from upstairs.

I immediately suppressed all my emotions and hurried up.

In the small room, Leo lay on the bed, his little face flushed with fever.

“Mommy…” His voice was soft and weak, “Daddy… is he coming home today?”

My heart twisted with agony.

I leaned down and pressed my forehead against his. The scorching temperature made my heart race.

“Yes, he will. Daddy will bring Leo a present after he’s done with work.”

I whispered gently, feeding him the fever medicine.

Leo was so good, he frowned his little face and swallowed the bitter medicine, his big, dark grape-like eyes full of anticipation.

Just then, the front door opened downstairs.

My heart lifted with a surge of hope, and I rushed down.

James was back. He brought with him a biting coldness, and a strange perfume scent that didn’t belong in our home.

It was Serena’s scent.

I knew he only married me because he’d saved my life from a fire five years ago.

That act of kindness, repeatedly emphasized by his mother, gradually became proof of my “scheming.” Since then, his gaze held nothing but scrutiny and disgust for me.

I dared not let him know about Leo’s existence, fearing that for Serena’s rare genetic bone marrow disease, he would treat his own flesh and blood as a cruel “living donor.”