Chapter 1

I was dying.

Victoria, my wife, made me give my bone marrow again and again.

For Julian Vance, her childhood flame.

He said he was sick, a rare disease.

I told her he was faking.

I told her the donations would kill me.

She called me selfish.

She said I was trying to manipulate her.

Now, I lay in the guest house, weak, fading.

The big Thompson estate felt like a prison.

My son, Leo, five years old, knew.

He tried to get help from Victoria, his mother.

First, he ran to her office in the main house.

"Mommy, Daddy's really sick. He can't breathe good."

Victoria didn't look up from her screen. Julian was beside her, smiling.

"Leo, your father is just being dramatic. Julian needs our support."

She waved him away. "Go play."

Leo came back an hour later, his small face tight with worry.

"Mommy, Daddy coughed up blood."

Julian chuckled. "Such an imagination on this one, Victoria."

Victoria sighed, annoyed.

"Leo, I am very busy. Julian is recovering. Your father is fine."

"He's not fine!" Leo's voice cracked.

Victoria stood up. Her face was cold.

"Go to your room. Do not disturb us again about this."

Leo's third try was desperate. He clutched his favorite teddy bear.

Tears streamed down his face.

"Mommy, please! Daddy said he's cold. He's so pale."

Victoria was on a call, Julian lounging on her sofa, smirking.

She put her hand over the receiver.

"Leo, I have had enough!"

She grabbed his arm, too tight.

Leo cried out.

"You are being a brat, just like your father. Get out!"

She pushed him hard. Leo stumbled, hitting his head on the doorframe.

She slammed the door.

Julian's laughter followed Leo down the hall.

Leo sat on the cold floor, his head throbbing.

He had to do something.

He remembered his expensive tablet, a gift from me.

He ran to his room, grabbed it.

He slipped out of the estate, a feat for a five-year-old.

On the main street, he saw a group of older kids.

He walked up to one, a boy with kind eyes.

"Please," Leo whispered, holding out the tablet. "I need a doctor for my daddy. He's very sick."

The boy looked at the expensive tablet, then at Leo's tear-streaked, dirty face.

"Okay, kid. I know a doc who makes house calls for cash."

Leo gave him the tablet. "Hurry."

The street kid was true to his word. He brought a doctor to the estate gates.

But Julian was there, as if expecting them.

He had a roll of cash in his hand.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding, Doctor," Julian said smoothly, handing over the money.

"The boy is overwrought. His father is resting comfortably. A mild flu, nothing more."

He put a hand on Leo's shoulder, gripping it painfully.

"My stepson, you see, has a flair for the dramatic."

The doctor, bought and paid for, nodded and left.

Julian dragged Leo back towards the guest house.

"You're a persistent little pest, aren't you?" Julian sneered.

Leo, defeated, saw me through the guest house window. I looked like a skeleton.

He turned to Julian, his small body trembling.

"Please, Mr. Vance. My daddy needs a doctor. He's going to die."

Julian smiled, a cruel, slow smile.

"A doctor? For him?"

He looked down at Leo.

"Alright, I'll think about it. But you have to earn it."

"Anything," Leo choked out.

Julian pointed to the ground.

"Bark like a dog for me, little Leo. Bark, and maybe I'll call that doctor back."

Leo stared, horrified.

Then, he got on his hands and knees.

A small, desperate "Woof" escaped his lips.

Julian threw back his head and laughed.

"Pathetic."