The Cancer Research Project had always been my father's greatest dream.

He had dedicated his entire life to helping people, and this project was supposed to lead to treatments that could genuinely save lives.

Even during my pregnancy, I had continued overseeing it. I worked right up until my due date, unwilling to let years of effort stall. It was only shortly before giving birth, when the project had finally begun progressing smoothly, that I permitted myself to step back and rest.

The moment I arrived at the company, my assistant practically ran toward me.

She was pale and drenched in sweat.

"Miss Vivian, Mr. Sterling transferred everything to Miss Vanessa," she said breathlessly. "Every department, every document, every approval. We have no idea what they're doing in there."

I drew in a slow breath.

"It's all right," I said as calmly as I could. "Take me to the president's office. I know the password to Adrian's computer."

I had barely taken two steps when someone stepped into my path.

Vanessa.

"Miss Vivian, please wait."

Her chin was lifted confidently. Her lips were slightly swollen, and faint marks stained her neck. She looked like a woman who believed she had already won.

"The president didn't authorize anyone to enter his office," she said coolly. "You can't go inside."

"Move."

I met her eyes without blinking.

"That project belongs to me. I've managed it from the beginning. I have every right to inspect it."

Her expression darkened.

"You ignored it throughout your pregnancy and now you suddenly want to take credit for it?" she snapped.

I stared at her.

"Do you really think you can claim something you've never worked for? Months of research don't magically become yours because someone handed you an office."

She couldn't refute that.

Instead, frustration overtook her.

She looked less like an executive and more like a child having a tantrum.

At that moment, Adrian appeared.

He looked surprised to see me.

"Genn?" he said hurriedly. "Why are you here already? I thought you'd wait for me."

I almost laughed.

Or maybe cried.

You were too busy playing husband somewhere else. Why pretend to care about me now?

Without a word, I handed him a stack of documents.

"Take a look."

He frowned and accepted them.

"Every original sample has been replaced. The imported materials we approved have all been switched with cheaper substitutes. Someone changed the suppliers and pocketed the money."

Adrian's brows knitted together.

Even he could immediately tell something was wrong.

Vanessa's face turned white.

"This has nothing to do with President Sterling," she blurted out. "I... I only wanted more money for my son. I didn't expect things to become this serious. I'm sorry, Miss Vivian."

I looked at her coldly.

"Sorry?"

I almost laughed.

"You're committing fraud. An apology isn't going to fix this. I'm reporting it."

I had barely finished speaking when a small body suddenly crashed into me.

The impact wasn't strong.

But I had given birth only a month ago.

My body was still recovering.

The collision sent a sharp pain through my abdomen.

A pained sound escaped my lips before I could stop it.

For a second, my vision blurred.

Silence descended across the office.

Adrian rushed toward me immediately.

"Genn!"

His expression changed completely.

"Look at me. Are you hurt? Does your stomach hurt? Tell me."

His hands hovered near me, wanting to help yet somehow never quite touching me.

Meanwhile, Vanessa hurried over and pulled the little boy behind her.

She wrapped her arms around him protectively.

"James, that wasn't nice," she said softly.

But there was no anger in her voice.

"You shouldn't push people. Apologize to Auntie."

Auntie.

She actually called me Auntie.

Then she looked at me with moist eyes.

"Miss Vivian, please don't blame him. He's only trying to protect his mother."

Protect.

The word almost made me laugh.

Before I could say anything, Adrian spoke.

"Genn, don't be upset with him. He's only a child. He doesn't understand adult issues."

Then he turned toward Vanessa.

"Take James downstairs. I'll talk to Vivian. He didn't mean anything."

Didn't mean anything?

I looked directly at him.

"Talk about what exactly?"

My voice was frighteningly calm.

"Are you going to explain why he called me a bad woman?"

I paused.

"Or are you going to explain why he called you Dad?"

The entire office seemed to stop breathing.

Adrian stiffened.

Only for a second.

Then he smiled.

"You're thinking too much," he said lightly. "Children sometimes call people Dad when they're close to them. It doesn't mean anything."

I stared at him.

Really?

I couldn't bear another second of their performance.

I turned around and headed toward the elevator.

Adrian followed after me.

"Vivian, why are you making such a big issue out of this?" he said impatiently. "He's six years old. Are you seriously upset with a six-year-old child?"

I stopped.

Then I slowly turned around.

Six years old.

And already capable of looking at me with hatred.

Who had taught him that?

Who made him believe I was his enemy?

Children don't invent those feelings by themselves.

They learn them.

I tightened my fingers into fists.

"They're taught," I said quietly.

Adrian frowned.

"What exactly are you trying to imply?"

His voice hardened.

"That he's my son? Vivian, don't be ridiculous. I have only one child."

He looked directly at me.

"Our daughter."

He said it naturally.

Effortlessly.

Even now, he was still lying.

A strange laugh escaped me.

It didn't even sound like my own.

"Then tell me something."

I looked him straight in the eye.

"What's our daughter's name?"

He froze.

I watched his expression carefully.

"You haven't even given her a name, have you?"

He opened his mouth.

No answer came.

I suddenly remembered a note I had discovered months ago.

He had scribbled down a single sentence.

I hope my child grows up strong, fearless, and impossible to break.

Underneath it was a name.

The name that was supposed to belong to our child.

Instead, it belonged to Vanessa's son.

I looked at him steadily.

"Her name is Charlotte."

He swallowed.

Something unreadable flashed through his eyes.

Then, as always, his expression softened.

"Charlotte," he repeated with a smile. "That's a beautiful name. Warm and bright."

His gaze settled on me.

"Just like you. I hope she always becomes the light of your life."

He lifted his hand, intending to touch my hair.

I took a step back.

His hand paused awkwardly in midair.

Then he lowered it.

"I'll be leaving on a business trip for a few days," he said, as though nothing had happened. "When I return, we'll sit down and talk properly. I'll explain everything."

I looked at him for several long seconds.

Then I nodded.

"Of course," I said evenly. "Your work is important."

I didn't give him another chance to speak.

I turned around and walked away.

When I got home, I fed Charlotte and gently rocked her until she fell asleep.

She made soft little sounds in her sleep, and beneath the warm glow of the bedside lamp, her long lashes cast delicate shadows over her cheeks.

My phone vibrated.

Vanessa had uploaded a new post on Instagram.

It was a photo of three hands stacked together.

Adrian's hand.

Her hand.

And Ethan's tiny hand gripping a set of car keys.

The caption read:

Rewarding our little hero today.

A five-million-dollar car.

A child was receiving it as casually as if it were a toy.

I stared at the picture.

Just last week, I had reminded Adrian three separate times to buy imported diapers for his daughter. Every time, he told me he was busy and had forgotten.

Suddenly, I laughed.

The sound that came out was empty and sharp.

I saved the screenshot and added it to my folder of evidence.

Charlotte shifted in my arms and smacked her lips softly in her sleep.

I lowered my head and kissed her silky cheek.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," I whispered. "Mommy will protect you. I promise."

...

The following day, after reviewing all my shares, resources, and assets, I booked a flight to New York scheduled for three days later.

Over the past few days, Adrian had been sending me messages nonstop.

I supposed he was trying his best to maintain the image of a perfect husband.

Honey, today's client was difficult, but I finally closed the deal.

Honey, you've been working so hard. I found a pastry shop downtown that's incredible. I'll take you there sometime.

I scrolled through the messages one after another.

A bitter smile slowly appeared on my face.

Did he really think I knew nothing?

Every bonus payment he had secretly transferred into Vanessa's account showed up in my email notifications.

Every single transaction.

And while he played the role of the devoted husband in front of me, Vanessa posted photos of herself online with stacks of cash stuffed inside her lingerie and fresh love bites blooming across her skin.

I laughed again.

A broken, almost pathetic sound.

How had I been so blind?

Once upon a time, Adrian had loved me like that.

We had been childhood sweethearts.

People envied us.

Beneath an old banyan tree, he had promised me that he would marry no one else.

When we were in college, he chased away every boy who tried to approach me and guarded me as though I belonged solely to him.

When I underwent surgery for appendicitis, he remained beside my hospital bed for three nights, refusing to sleep.

The first paycheck he ever earned had gone directly into my bank account.

Attached to it was a short message.

For my little princess.

Back then, I thought I had found the kind of love people spent their entire lives searching for.

None of it mattered anymore.

A sudden cry interrupted my thoughts.

It came from the nursery.

"Oh my God, Miss Vivian!"

The nanny rushed out, her face drained of color.

"The baby's thigh got cut somehow. The bleeding won't stop!"

Her hands were trembling.

There was blood on them.

My heart nearly stopped.

I ran into the nursery and immediately scooped Charlotte into my arms.

Her tiny cries had weakened considerably.

Blood continued to flow down her leg.

I felt my limbs go numb.

Still, I carried her and rushed to the hospital as quickly as I could.

The doctor looked over the test results and frowned.

"She has a rare neonatal disorder. Her hemoglobin level is dangerously low. She needs a blood transfusion immediately."

My lips trembled.

"Then do it," I said desperately. "Start an IV. Use whatever medicine you need. I'll do anything. I'm her mother—"

The doctor shook his head.

"Parents can't donate blood directly in situations like this. And your daughter has Rh-negative blood. We need to see whether our blood bank still has units available."

"Then give her a clotting agent first!" I practically shouted. "Please, hurry!"

They administered the medication.

The bleeding didn't stop.

I held Charlotte's tiny body against my chest.

She looked so pale.

Tears streamed down my face endlessly.

Several minutes later, a nurse hurried into the room.

Sympathy was written all over her face.

"Miss Vivian..." she said softly. "The Rh-negative blood is gone."

I looked up sharply.

"What do you mean gone? You told me there was reserve blood available!"

The nurse lowered her eyes.

"This is a private hospital. Mr. Sterling's son needed blood urgently, so the director transferred all the remaining Rh-negative units to the VIP ward."

Everything inside me froze.

I felt as though lightning had struck me.

My chest hurt so badly I could barely breathe.

I was about to call Adrian.

I wanted to scream at him.

Then my phone lit up.

Vanessa had posted another story.

Our little rascal scraped his knee. Luckily, Daddy can get the rarest blood in the city whenever he wants.

For a second, I thought my head would explode.

I handed Charlotte to the nurse and ran.

Up the stairs.

Down the corridor.

My heart pounded violently inside my chest.

I reached the VIP ward and kicked the door open.

Inside, Vanessa was smiling while playing a game with James.

The boy sat comfortably on the hospital bed.

There was a tiny scrape on his knee.

It was so minor it didn't even need a bandage.

I stood there, unable to move.

The scene before me was almost unbearable.

A happy mother.

A cheerful child.

Meanwhile, my daughter was fighting for her life downstairs.

Hatred surged through me like a tidal wave.

I couldn't contain it.

"Give the blood to my daughter!" I screamed.

Vanessa looked at me with that familiar expression.

Smug.

Triumphant.

The expression she wore whenever she believed she had won.

"Why are you making such a scene?" she asked coldly. "My son just scraped his knee."

My voice shook.

"This isn't about a scraped knee! My daughter has a rare condition. If treatment is delayed any longer, she could die!"

The doctor standing outside heard the commotion and stepped inside.

He looked between us uneasily.

"If there is enough blood available... perhaps some of it can be given to this child?"

I looked at him desperately.

I felt like I was drowning.

"Please," I begged. "My daughter needs Rh-negative blood immediately. If we delay any longer, she won't survive."

Vanessa rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please, Doctor."

She folded her arms.

"You know who my husband is. He's this hospital's largest shareholder. Did you forget that? Every unit of Rh-negative blood belongs to my son. Are you trying to get yourself fired?"

It felt like someone had punched me directly in the chest.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't think.

I lunged toward the IV stand and grabbed the blood bag.

"You stole my daughter's chance to live!" I cried. "How could you do something like this?"

Vanessa screamed.

"Security! Hurry!"

She pointed at me.

"This crazy woman is trying to steal my son's blood!"

Two security guards immediately rushed into the room.

They grabbed my arms and restrained me.

I struggled wildly.

My pulse thundered inside my ears.

Vanessa snatched the blood bag from my hands and raised it triumphantly.

"Look at her!" she shouted. "She actually tried to steal my son's blood! Get her out of here!"

The guards dragged me backward.

I could barely breathe.

Fury.

Despair.

Panic.

Everything twisted together inside my chest.

One of the guards frowned.

"The hospital has enough blood. You're just causing trouble."

I almost screamed.

"I don't care about anything else!" I cried hoarsely. "My daughter is dying! She has every right to live!"

At that moment, the hospital director arrived outside the room.

After taking in the chaotic scene, he frowned.

"Hold on."

His gaze moved across the room.

"Which one of you is Mrs. Sterling?"

Vanessa lifted her phone and shoved it toward the director.

"Take a good look," she said smugly. "I'm the woman President Sterling legally married. James is his legitimate son. As for her child..." She glanced at me with contempt. "That baby was a mistake. An illegitimate child who isn't even acknowledged."

Every word struck me like a knife.

I looked down at Charlotte's tiny, pale face resting in my arms.

My legs suddenly gave way.

I collapsed onto the floor right in front of Vanessa.

"Please..." My voice broke completely. "Please save my daughter."

I was crying so hard I could barely speak.

"Please. I'm begging you."

The hallway fell silent.

No one spoke.

Everyone was watching.

Vanessa didn't look affected in the slightest.

Without even glancing at me, she pulled out her phone and called Adrian.

The second he answered, her voice changed.

She sounded frightened and wronged.

"Honey, come back quickly. Vivian's gone crazy. She's trying to take James's blood. She wants to hurt us. She's trying to kill me and our son."

Something inside me snapped.

I jerked free from the security guards and grabbed the phone.

My hands were shaking violently.

"Adrian!"

I was crying, but I forced myself to speak clearly.

"Charlotte is injured. She has a rare blood disorder and severe anemia. She needs a transfusion right now. Tell them to release the blood to her immediately, or she's going to die!"

Silence answered me.

A long, terrible silence.

Then Adrian finally spoke.

His tone was impatient.

"Genn, the blood has already been reserved for James. He needs it now, so stop making a scene and delaying things."

I couldn't breathe.

"How much blood could a one-month-old baby possibly need?" I cried. "Your son has a tiny scrape on his knee! My daughter is downstairs bleeding in the emergency room. She needs it right now!"

More silence.

Then he spoke again.

This time, his voice sounded cold.

Almost doubtful.

"A newborn with a rare condition?" he said slowly. "Genn... are you exaggerating? Are you even telling me the truth?"

I felt something break inside me.

"Adrian!"

Hot tears poured down my face.

"She's your daughter! She's your own child! How can you say something like that?"

I could hear voices around him.

The hospital director was speaking cautiously.

"Mr. Sterling... how should we handle this woman? She seems emotionally unstable. She keeps insisting she's your wife."

Adrian said nothing for several seconds.

Then he answered.

His voice was distant.

Almost indifferent.

"My wife is Vanessa. She's the mother of my son, James."

He paused.

"I don't have a daughter."

The room seemed to relax.

The tension disappeared.

People looked at me with pity.

Or suspicion.

As if I were someone who had lost her mind.

Vanessa smiled.

It was the smile of someone who had won completely.

She took the bag of Rh-negative blood and dropped it onto the floor in front of me.

"Do you really think your child deserves this?" she asked softly.

Then she lifted her heel and stepped on the blood bag.

"I'd rather waste every drop than let it go to you."

I felt like my chest had been crushed beneath a boulder.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't even cry anymore.

...

When I returned to Charlotte's room, the ward door closed behind me with a dull thud.

It felt as though I had been cut off from the rest of the world.

I walked to the bed and carefully picked up my daughter.

Her tiny body felt frighteningly cold.

I held her close against my chest while tears slipped down my face endlessly.

I had never felt so helpless.

Then my phone suddenly lit up.

Another Instagram story.

Vanessa again.

She was holding James in her arms and smiling brightly at the camera.

Below the photo was a screenshot of a transfer notification.

Five hundred thousand dollars.

The note attached to it read:

Take care of our son.

I stared at the screen.

A chill spread through my body.

The warmth in my arms seemed to be fading little by little.

I felt utterly powerless.

How had this man spent years convincing me he loved me...

only to stand by while another woman did this to our child?

Despair swallowed me whole.

Then, from the doorway, a calm male voice spoke.

"I have Rh-negative blood."

I looked up.

The man stood quietly in the doorway.

"If you'll allow it," he said gently, "I can donate to your daughter."

...

Because of that stranger's donation of four hundred cubic centimeters of blood, my daughter survived.

My baby lived.

The irony of it all was almost unbearable.

Her own father had controlled every unit of Rh-negative blood in the hospital and refused to spare her a single bag.

Meanwhile, a complete stranger had appeared out of nowhere, saved her life, and disappeared without even leaving behind his name.

Color gradually returned to Charlotte's tiny face.

Her little lips moved instinctively, searching for milk.

The nanny suddenly leaned closer.

"Miss Vivian... something isn't right."

I looked at her.

"I watch her all the time. Nothing sharp ever went near her crib."

I froze.

"But the doctor said the wound came from a razor blade," I said slowly. "She never left her crib."

A terrible feeling settled in my stomach.

The second we returned home, I went straight to the nursery.

I pulled apart the velvet bedding.

My blood turned cold.

Several razor blades were hidden among the folds.

Some of them still carried traces of my daughter's blood.

I stood there in shock.

I remembered asking Adrian to purchase the crib during my postpartum confinement.

Of course he hadn't personally selected it.

He never paid attention to details like that.

He had probably told his assistant the same thing he always did.

Buy the most expensive one.

And the assistant...

The assistant was Vanessa.

I suddenly understood.

She had arranged all of this.

She had placed those blades there.

A chill ran down my spine.

Did Adrian know?

Did he realize Vanessa had almost killed our daughter?

And even if he knew...

would he protect Charlotte?

Or would he continue pretending to be the perfect husband while quietly allowing our child to die?

I didn't know.

I honestly didn't know anymore.

I sat down on the sofa and held Charlotte tightly against my chest.

Her tiny body radiated warmth.

I buried my face against her soft hair.

"Don't be afraid, baby," I whispered through my tears. "Mommy won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

At least we only had two more days.

In two days, we would leave.

We would start over somewhere new.

...

Adrian returned from his business trip the next evening.

The moment he entered the house, he looked angry.

"Genn, you've been acting completely unreasonable lately."

I looked up at him while tightening my hold around Charlotte.

"You went to the hospital and caused a huge scene."

His voice softened slightly, but it sounded artificial.

"Did you even stop to think about how that would affect me?"

A shiver ran through me.

His gaze dropped to our sleeping daughter.

Concern appeared on his face.

It looked convincing.

But now I could see right through him.

"You used our daughter to create trouble," he said with disappointment. "Honestly, Genn, I never expected this from you."

I slowly shook my head.

"Adrian," I said quietly, "it's over."

He frowned.

"What?"

"It's over between us."

His face changed immediately.

He stepped forward and grabbed my arm.

"Over?" he repeated. "What do you mean, over?"

His grip tightened.

"We've known each other since we were children. We've been together for more than ten years."

His voice rose.

"You can't just throw all of that away."