"Clara Moore, what did you do to my son? You can hate me, but you can't hurt a kid," Lily roared.

I laughed in disbelief. "Are you kidding? I didn't touch him. It was Lucas pushing Emma. Don't twist this."

"Guards! Get them!" George barked, cutting me off.

Several bodyguards rushed over and grabbed my arms. Emma cried, trying to protect me, but they yanked her away.

Seeing her pinned to the ground, gasping, I fought like a madwoman, yelling, "George Quinn, you monster. Emma is your daughter. How could you..."

A blow to the back of my head knocked me out cold.

...

When I came to, Emma's faint sobs reached my ears. "Dad, please, no more needles."

I bolted upright, my heart stopping at the sight.

A doctor held Emma's thin arm, drawing blood. The dark red liquid looked stark in the syringe.

"Stop it!" I lunged, but the guards pinned me down.

George stood stone-faced nearby, Lily weeping on his shoulder.

The doctor adjusted his glasses. "The patient has acute leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant. A half-sibling is the best donor."

Even knowing Lucas's collapse wasn't our fault, George didn't hesitate. "Fine, schedule the transplant as soon as possible."

I shook with rage. "Are you insane? Emma is only seven."

He looked down at me, unmoved.

"Dad..." Emma weakly reached out, the needle mark glaring on her pale skin. "I'll be good. Can you stop the blood draws?"

George frowned, dodging her touch, and told the doctor. "If the match works, book the surgery. I need the best anesthesiologist."

He paused, then added, "As for the donor, use the lowest dose of painkillers. Emma has always been healthy; she'll be fine."

I couldn't believe a father could be so heartless.

To keep me from interfering, George had me locked in the basement, forbidden to leave without his saying so.

Two weeks later, Lucas's surgery went smoothly. But Emma, used up like a discarded tool, was tossed back into the basement with me.

Her arms were covered in needle marks and bruises.

In just half a month, she'd lost over ten pounds, light as a feather in my arms.

"Mom, don't worry. I'm okay," Emma whispered, pale but trying to comfort me despite her pain.

She lifted her hand to wipe my tears, her eyes drifting to the basement's tiny window. Outside, fireworks boomed, and cheerful voices echoed.

I gently laid Emma on the damp, filthy mattress and peered through the window.

A ribbon drifted to the ground. Outside, the garden buzzed with guests celebrating Lucas's successful surgery, unaware of our confinement in the basement.

"Mr. Quinn, it's Miss Emma's birthday today. Didn't you promise to spend it with her?" reminded the butler.

George snorted, "A fortune-teller said Emma's existence cursed Lucas, causing his leukemia. He and Lily have been struggling for years, making him weak. Don't ruin a good day with bad talk. I'm kind enough not to kick her out. She's got food and shelter, isn't that plenty?"

His words chilled my heart. My legs buckled, and I collapsed backward.

Emma suddenly let out a piercing scream and coughed up blood. "Mom, it hurts!"

I broke out in a cold sweat, rushing to the call button and pressing it desperately.

George heard but ignored it, laughing and cutting cake with Lily and Lucas.

"Help! Somebody, save my daughter!" I cried out, pounding the door.

After what felt like forever, hurried footsteps came.

A maid, flustered, unlocked the door. Her face was uneasy as she pleaded, "Ma'am, Mr. Quinn said today's party can't have any hiccups. Please, don't make a scene, or we'll get in trouble too."

Hearing the commotion, George stormed to the door. "Can't you chill for one second? You're always stirring up trouble. I was only going to lock you up for two weeks, but clearly, that was too soft."

He chewed me out, ready to scold Emma too.

But then he saw her, blood dripping from her mouth, convulsing in the blankets. His pupils shrank, and his face twisted in shock.

...

After hours of emergency care, Emma narrowly escaped danger.

Maybe out of guilt or fear of a real tragedy, George showed up at the hospital with a fancy doll and a cake.

Looking at Emma, unconscious in bed, he frowned and paused for a long time.

"I didn't mean for this," he mumbled, too proud to give even a proper apology.

As he stepped toward Emma, I blocked his path and slapped him across the face.

"Get out!" I screamed until my voice gave out.

George glared at me. "You got your hit in. Happy now? I said I didn't mean to hurt Emma. Who knew she was so fragile? I've got the best doctors on her case. Don't push it."

He threw the doll and cake on the floor and stormed out.

Emma woke up just then, but George wouldn't stay for another second.

A tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want Dad on my birthday anymore. Maybe he never loved me. Mom, take me away."

Tears streamed down my face as I kissed her cheek.

I choked back my sobs and nodded, pulling out my phone to dial an unfamiliar number.

"Gordon, I'm sorry. I got caught up in some stuff and missed our meeting," I said. "But don't worry. I've finalized the divorce with George."

The man on the other end sounded thrilled but worried, catching the strain in my voice.

"I'm the one who should apologize," Gordon Mill said. "A twist of fate kept us apart for ten years. I wanted to find you, but knowing you were married, I didn't dare intrude. From now on, no one will keep us apart. I'll spend the rest of my life making up for those ten years."

After setting a date to meet Gordon, I wiped my tears and slipped off my wedding ring.

Stepping out of the room, I ran into George, who had been lurking outside.

"Who were you talking to about meeting in a week?" he asked.

Realizing he overheard my call with Gordon, I dodged trouble with a quick lie. "Emma has always wanted to see the Northern Lights. I'm taking her once she's stronger."

George didn't suspect anything and pulled a bank card from his pocket.

"You've had a rough time. Take a trip to clear your head," he said. "Call me if you need anything. There's a million dollars on this card. Consider it my way of making it up to you."

"Alright." I took the card, watching him leave.

I booked international flights right away.

He had his unresolved childhood sweetheart, and I had my long-lost love waiting to reconnect. Our paths were destined to diverge.