18 A Sister’s Ransom
The hospital corridor seemed to freeze in time. Tanya’s words hung in the air like a confession nobody was prepared to hear.
“What did you just say?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Tanya’s eyes darted around the room, suddenly realizing her slip. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to speak.
“I… I misspoke.” Her voice trembled.
Alistair looked between us, confusion etched on his face. “Biological sister? What is she talking
about, Hazel?”
The exhaustion from the sleeping pills seemed to evaporate as adrenaline coursed through my
veins. Years of secrets were unraveling before me.
“Go on, Tanya,” I said coldly. “Tell him. Tell everyone the truth you’ve been hiding for years.”
Tanya’s face contorted with anger and panic. “This isn’t the time! My daughter is dying!”
“Your daughter?” I laughed bitterly. “Or should we finally acknowledge whose daughter she really is?”
The doctor shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps I should give you all some privacy—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Stay. You should hear this too, since it affects your patient’s medical history!”
Alistair gripped my arm. “What are you talking about?”
I yanked my arm away, disgusted by his touch. “Ivy isn’t just my stepsister. She’s my half–sister. My father’s blood runs through her veins, just like mine.”
The shock on Alistair’s face would have been satisfying under different circumstances. His eyes widened as the implications sank in.
“That’s… that’s not possible,” he stammered. “Your father married Tanya after your mother-”
“After my mother died of a broken heart?” I finished for him. “No. The affair started long before that. Ivy was conceived while my father was still married to my mother.”
Tanya lunged forward suddenly, her hand raised to strike me. “Shut up! You have no right!”
Before her hand could connect with my face, Alistair caught her wrist. “Stop it! Is this true?”
The doctor stepped forward. “I really must insist-”
“It’s true,” came a weak voice from behind us.
We all turned to see my father standing in the doorway, his face ashen. He looked older than his
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18 A Sister’s Ransom
years, shoulders slumped under the weight of his secrets.
“Harold,” Tanya hissed. “Don’t.”
My father ignored her. “Ivy is my biological daughter. She was born eight months before I divorced Hazel’s mother.”
The confession hung in the air like poison. I watched Alistair’s face, waiting for him to finally understand the depth of betrayal I had lived with my entire life. Instead, his expression shifted from shock to something else entirely.
“So you two are sisters,” he said slowly. “Real sisters.”
“Half–sisters,” I corrected sharply.
“Which explains why you have the same rare blood type,” the doctor interjected, his professional curiosity overriding his discomfort. “This is actually quite fortunate for the patient.”
I stared at them all in disbelief. “Fortunate? My father’s infidelity, my mother’s heartbreak, years of lies–all fortunate?”
“That’s not what I meant,” the doctor backpedaled.
Alistair stepped closer to me. “Hazel, don’t you see? This changes everything.”
“It changes nothing,” I spat.
“She’s your sister,” he insisted. “Your blood. How can you stand here and refuse to help her?”
The audacity of his statement hit me like a physical blow. “Do you think being related to me by blood magically erases all the pain she’s caused? All the cruelty?”
“She’s dying, Hazel!”
“And that’s supposed to erase everything? The bullying? The stealing? The way she took you from me?”
Alistair’s face hardened. “She didn’t take me. I chose her.”
“Because she manipulated you with her illness!”
“No.” His voice was firm, resolute. “Because she needed me more than
you did.”
I stepped back, stunned by the coldness in his voice. “After everything I did for you, all the blood I gave you over the years-”
“That was your choice,” he interrupted. “Nobody forced you.”
“Like nobody’s forcing me now?” I challenged.
Alistair ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is different. Ivy never did anything to hurt you intentionally.”
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18 A Sister’s Ransom
A harsh laugh escaped my lips. “Are you serious? She’s been trying to destroy me since she was twelve years old!”
“You’re exaggerating,” he dismissed. “She’s always admired you.”
“Admired me?” I was nearly shouting now. “She cut up my mother’s wedding dress! She ruined my design portfolio before my college interview! She deliberately spilled bleach on the evening. gown I spent three months creating!”
“Those were accidents, childish mistakes,” Alistair insisted.
“And stealing my fiancé? Was that a childish mistake too?”
Something in his expression shifted, hardened. “I’m not some object to be stolen, Hazel. And right now, your sister néeds your help.”
tried to leave, disgusted by the entire conversation, but Alistair grabbed my arm.
“Let me go,” I warned.
“Not until you help her,” he insisted. “She’s your sister.”
“Half–sister,” I corrected again.
“Please,” he begged, his voice softening. “Save her. If not for her, then for me. For what we once
meant to each other.”
I looked into his eyes, searching for any trace of the man I had loved. There was nothing there but desperation–not for me, but for her.
A cold clarity washed over me. “You want my blood? Fine. But it comes with a price.”
The room fell silent.
“Name it,” my father said immediately.
I turned to him. “I want my mother’s remaining shares in the company. Sign them over to me.”
He paled. “But that’s-”
“Thirty percent of the company,” I finished. “Sign it over, or Ivy gets nothing from me.”
“You can’t be serious,” Tanya gasped.
“I’ve never been more serious,” I replied coldly. Then I turned to Alistair. “And from you, I want one million dollars for every 100cc of blood I donate.”
Alistair’s jaw dropped. “That’s extortion!”
“That’s business,” I corrected. “You taught me that.”
“I’ll sign,” my father said quickly, his voice hoarse. “Just help her.”
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Alistair hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. Whatever you want.”
The doctor, who had been watching this exchange with poorly concealed shock, cleared his throat. “I’ll get the paperwork started then.”
“No,” I said firmly. “First the contracts. Then the blood.”
Twenty minutes later, with makeshift contracts signed and notarized by the hospital’s legal department, I sat in a donation chair while a nurse prepared to draw my blood.
“This is the right thing,” Alistair said, hovering nearby. “You’ll see.”
I met his gaze coldly. “Just so you know, this is the last thing I will ever do for any of you.”
The nurse approached with a needle, alcohol swab in hand.
“Before we start,” I said casually, stopping her. “I have a quick medical question.”
“Yes?” the nurse asked.
I smiled sweetly. “Is it possible to donate blood after taking sleeping pills?”
The room went deadly silent.
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