Chapter 4

Aisha Henderson POV:

The hospital corridor outside Kaylee' s room turned into a chaotic whirlwind. Doctors and nurses rushed past, their faces grim. Snippets of urgent conversation drifted into my room, carried on the tense air. "Rare blood type," "bone marrow transplant," "critical condition."

Doria Winters, her usual imperious mask replaced by a look of stark panic, stood in the hallway, barking orders into her phone. Her voice, usually so controlled, was strained. "I don' t care what it costs! Find a match! Anyone! There' s a seven-figure reward for anyone with a compatible bone marrow donation!"

My ears perked up. Bone marrow? A rare blood type? A chilling realization slowly dawned on me.

I remembered a conversation with a kind nurse years ago, during one of Deborrah's routine (before the accident) check-ups. My blood type was rare, she' d said. Not just A, B, or O, but a specific, unusual subtype. "You're special, Aisha," she had joked gently. "A very particular kind of valuable."

A desperate, fragile hope sparked within me. This was it. My chance. My chance to prove my worth. To prove that I wasn' t just a burden, a problem. If I could save Doria, Christopher' s mother, Deborrah' s mother-in-law... surely, that would earn me a place. Surely, my mother would finally see me. See my sacrifice. See her daughter.

I pushed myself up, wincing as my bandaged knee protested. My head still throbbed, but I ignored it. I shuffled out of my room, towards the commotion.

"I can help," I said, my voice barely a whisper, but it cut through the urgent murmurs.

Kaylee, nestled safely in Christopher' s arms, looked up, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "She' s just trying to get attention, Mommy," she whined, pointing a finger at me. "She always does this."

Deborrah, her face still tear-stained from worrying over Kaylee, finally looked at me. Her expression was not one of concern, or even recognition, but annoyance. "Aisha," she said, her voice sharp. "Not now. You' re always causing trouble. Can' t you see we have a crisis here?"

The words were a brutal punch to the gut. My mother. My own mother. Even now, when I offered to save her adoptive family, she saw only my flaws. I was a problem. A burden. A nuisance. Always.

The hope withered and died, replaced by a deep, aching emptiness. I was not special. I was not valuable. I was just... me. And me was not enough.

A few hours later, a relieved murmur spread through the hospital wing. A compatible donor had been found. Not for bone marrow, but for the blood transfusion Doria needed immediately to stabilize her after a sudden complication. Family members breathed sighs of relief, their faces loosening from the tight masks of worry. They had averted the immediate crisis regarding blood, for now. The bone marrow would still be an issue.

I was once again forgotten, a ghost in the corridor. Augustus, however, had not forgotten. He had watched my desperate plea, his eyes thoughtful. He approached a nurse, his voice low. "Please, conduct a full blood workup on the girl. All tests. And include a bone marrow tissue type. Immediately."

The nurse, surprised, nodded. "Of course, Mr. Winters."

Soon after, Doria, still frail but out of immediate danger from the blood loss, was carefully transported back to the mansion. Christopher, Deborrah, and Kaylee went with her, their relief palpable, their attention entirely focused on the matriarch.

I was left behind. Alone. Again. In the empty, sterile hospital room. It was like I had never existed to them. The numbness returned, a heavy blanket wrapping around my aching heart. I was used to it. This was my normal.

Later that evening, the kind nurse returned, a strange expression on her face. She held a clipboard. "Aisha, honey," she said softly, sitting beside my bed, "your tests came back."

I braced myself for more bad news.

"You' re a match," she whispered, her eyes wide. "A perfect, exact match for Mrs. Winters' s bone marrow." She looked at me with a mixture of awe and pity. "You could have saved her. You could still save her."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "They won' t want my help," I said, the words tasting like ash. "They already said no."

The nurse' s face fell. She pulled out her phone. "I have to tell them. They need to know this." She dialed, her finger hovering. But then she paused, listening to something on the other end. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She lowered the phone, her face pale.

"They... they refused," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "They said... they said you' re not a viable option. That they' d rather find another donor, no matter the cost, than accept assistance from 'her' ." The disbelief in her voice was raw.

She made another call, her voice strained. I heard fragments of the conversation. "Foster care... no family... yes, a social worker will be here in the morning."

My fate, sealed by their hatred. They would rather let Doria suffer, would rather pay any price, than accept help from me. I was truly beyond redemption in their eyes.

A strange peace settled over me. Maybe this was better. If I was gone, if I was truly out of their lives, maybe Deborrah could finally be happy. Maybe my absence was the only gift I could give her. I closed my eyes, picturing my mother's happy face with Kaylee and Fredy. If my leaving meant her happiness, then I would go.

The next morning, a social worker, a kind but weary woman, led me out of the hospital. I didn' t look back. There was nothing to look back at. No one. Just emptiness.

Just as we reached the curb, a sleek black Mercedes screeched to a halt beside us. Augustus Winters. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a frantic urgency I had never seen. He was on his phone, his voice a strained whisper.

"What do you mean, infertile?" Augustus roared into the phone, his voice cracking. "Christopher cannot be the father! But... who is?"

Then, his eyes, wild and desperate, locked onto mine. A chilling silence descended. The social worker looked at him nervously.

Augustus' s hand, holding the phone, trembled. "You' re saying... you' re saying Aisha... is Christopher' s biological daughter? And Deborrah' s?" he gasped, his voice barely audible. "My granddaughter?"