17 A Debt of Blood
My brain felt like cotton, the sleeping pills still heavy in my system as I tried to process the frantic voice coming through the intercom.
“Hazel! Open this door immediately!” The voice belonged to Alistair.
I pressed my forehead against the cool wall, desperately fighting the medication’s pull. “Go away. It’s the middle of the night.”
“Ivy is dying! We need you at the hospital now!” His voice cracked with panic.
Even in my drugged state, I recognized the manipulation. “Not my problem.”
“Damn it, Hazel!” His voice escalated. “Open this door or I’ll break it down!”
The security system beeped again. Someone was overriding the building’s entrance code. Less than a minute later, pounding footsteps echoed in the hallway.
I barely managed to back away before my door flew open. Alistair stood there, eyes wild, tie
askew.
“What the hell?” I mumbled, the room tilting slightly. “You can’t just-”
“Ivy’s hemorrhaging,” he cut me off, stepping inside without invitation. “She needs a transfusion.
Now.”
I laughed bitterly. “So call a blood bank.”
His face darkened. “You know it’s not that simple. She has the same rare blood type as you.”
The reality of why he was here hit me like a slap. “You came for my blood.”
“People are dying, Hazel!”
“One person,” I corrected, steadying myself against the wall. “One manipulative person who stole my fiancé and wedding.”
Alistair grabbed my arm. “This isn’t the time for your pettiness!”
The touch jolted me fully awake. I yanked free and slapped him hard across the face.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I hissed.
His cheek reddened where my palm had connected. For a moment, shock registered in his eyes before hardening into something cold.
“We don’t have time for this.” He seized my wrist with bruising force. “You’re coming with me.”
“I took sleeping pills, I protested as he dragged me toward the door. “I can’t donate blood!”
16:27
1/4
<
17 A Debt of Blood
“The doctors will figure it out,” he snapped, not slowing his pace.
I struggled against his grip. “I’m in pajamas, for God’s sake!”
“Ivy is dying while you worry about your outfit. Typical.”
The casual cruelty in his words stunned me into momentary compliance. This was the man I had planned to marry. This was the man I had given my blood to countless times over the years.
Before I could gather myself, I was being bundled into his car, the night air cold against my thin sleepwear. Alistair peeled away from the curb, tires screeching.
“Put your seatbelt on,” he ordered, eyes fixed on the road.
“Worried about my safety now?” I asked sarcastically, but complied.
The hospital lights were blinding as Alistair practically carried me through the emergency entrance. My legs still weren’t cooperating fully, the medication making every movement feel like wading through molasses.
Tanya Turner’s tear–stained face was the first thing I saw in the waiting room. Her eyes lit with desperate hope when she spotted me.
“Thank God,” she breathed. “They’ve been preparing her for the transfusion, but her condition is critical.”
I pulled away from Alistair’s grip. “I never agreed to this.”
Tanya’s expression shifted from relief to calculation. “You’d let your own sister die?”
“Stepsister,” I corrected flatly.
“She’s your blood!” Tanya insisted. “You’ve donated before!”
“To Alistair,” I pointed out. “Who betrayed me.”
Alistair stepped forward. “Hazel, please. This one time.”
I looked between their pleading faces and felt nothing but disgust. “So I’m only valuable when you need something from me? Blood, designs, whatever you can take?”
“You’re being dramatic,” Alistair scoffed. “It’s just a blood donation.”
“If it’s just a blood donation, why aren’t you doing it?” I challenged. “You have the same blood type.”
Tanya jumped in quickly. “Alistair can’t donate! He’s still recovering from his last episode.”
“Convenient,” I muttered. “And my father? He shares our blood type too.”
“Harold is too old,” Tanya responded immediately. “The doctor advised against it.”
16:27
<
17 A Debt of Blood
I laughed bitterly. “Of course. The men are too precious to give blood, but I’m expected to be your personal blood bag at 3 AM?”
A doctor emerged from the trauma area, clipboard in hand. “Ms. Shaw? We need to begin immediately if the transfusion is to be effective.”
I shook my head. “I haven’t consented to anything.”
“Hazel,” Alistair grabbed my shoulders, desperation in his eyes. “I’m begging you.”
I looked at him coldly. “Like I begged you not to cancel our wedding?”
“She’s dying!” Tanya wailed.
“And that’s my problem how?” I asked. “Where was your concern when she was stealing my fiancé? Where was your compassion when my father hit me in public?“.
Tanya’s face contorted with rage. “You selfish, heartless-”
“I’m selfish?” I cut her off. “For six years, I donated blood to keep Alistair alive. I scheduled my life around his health needs. I built a company while supporting him through every crisis. Where was everyone’s gratitude then?”
“That was different,” Alistair argued weakly.
“How?” I challenged. “Because you were the beneficiary? Because Ivy wasn’t important then?”
The doctor shifted uncomfortably. “I should note that we cannot proceed without Ms. Shaw’s consent.”
“She’ll give it,” Tanya said with certainty. Then, turning to me, her voice dropped to a harsh whisper: “If you let Ivy die, her blood will be on your hands. You’ll be cursed forever, letting your own biological sister die when you could have saved her.”
The room went silent.
“Biological sister?” Alistair repeated slowly, turning to stare at Tanya.
Tanya’s face drained of color as she realized what she had revealed in her desperation.
16:27
