My dad scheduled a physical for me. When the nurse was drawing my blood, I heard her ask, “Is this for a bone marrow match sample?” I froze. That wasn’t listed on my physical exam form at all. And why would I need a match anyway? The lab slip in the nurse’s hand accidentally fluttered to the floor. As I bent to pick it up, a few lines of text jumped out at me: Patient: Chloe Davis. Diagnosis: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Guardian Signature: Robert Anderson. Robert Anderson was my father, but who the hell was Chloe Davis? I called my dad right away: “Dad, why does my physical need a bone marrow match?” His voice wavered, sounding a little flustered. “Must be a hospital mix-up, right? But it’s just another test—can’t hurt to do one more.” I smiled and said okay. After hanging up, I went straight to the patient room listed on the lab slip. Walking into the room, I saw a girl lying in bed. Her face was pale, her body frail. Her eyes and eyebrows looked almost exactly like my dad’s. My heart dropped. I clenched my hands and walked over, asking, “Are you Chloe Davis?” She looked up at me, startled. Before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from behind her. I turned. It was her mom. She looked to be in her early thirties—pretty young—simply dressed, with a gentle, motherly vibe. She seemed flustered, her face pale, her hands shaking a little. “You must be one of Chloe’s classmates, right?” Her voice was urgent and shaking. She rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “She needs to rest. Could you step out for a minute? I need to talk to you.” I didn’t refuse and followed her out of the room. In the hallway, she visibly relaxed, then hesitated before speaking. “You’re…” I held up my medical form, cutting straight to the point. “Why is my father’s name on your daughter’s guardian signature line?” “Ma’am, what’s your relationship with my dad?” The hospital hallway was busy with people, and some who knew her walked by. She hadn’t expected me to confront her directly. Her expression got even tenser, but she forced a smile and greeted her acquaintances. Then, with a strained smile, she tried to explain to me: “That signature… my daughter is sick, and a generous charity is providing funding. The person in charge happened to be there when I was filling out paperwork, so they just signed casually.” Her words were gentle, meant to calm my suspicions. But her eyes, fixed on me, held a hint of malice and a greedy glint. I met her gaze, staring right back. She looked a little guilty, instinctively running a hand through her hair. I noticed the diamond ring on her hand. It looked familiar—a designer piece. It was from my mom’s favorite designer. This designer, who rarely releases new pieces, had recently launched a new collection that got a lot of industry attention. It happened to coincide with my parents’ wedding anniversary. I’d even secretly suggested to my dad that he should try to get this diamond ring as an anniversary gift for my mom. He agreed, telling me to keep it a secret, saying he had a surprise planned for Mom. But on the anniversary, what he gave her was a generic, mass-produced design you could find anywhere. Even the stones were cubic zirconia. My dad explained that he’d been at a cross-country meeting with a time difference, mixed up the date, and couldn’t get the limited edition. He said he’d use a regular designer piece for now and later contact the designer for a custom piece for Mom. Turns out, he hadn’t “missed out”—he’d given it to this other woman. And fobbed my mom off with a lousy substitute. I gritted my teeth, holding back a surge of anger. Staring at Summer’s awkward expression, my smile didn’t reach my eyes. “Ma’am, your ring is beautiful, isn’t it? A limited edition designer piece?” “My mom waited forever but couldn’t get one.” She probably hadn’t expected a kid like me to recognize it. She froze up instantly, her face turning ugly. She quickly pulled her hair forward, trying to cover a necklace, and stammered out a defense: “What designer piece…? I don’t know anything about that. My daughter just bought this for me—it’s nothing expensive.” “I need to go take care of my daughter now, so I should get back.” “Oh, and please don’t mention today to anyone, so we don’t cause any misunderstandings at home.” With that, she turned in a panic and hurried back into the room. Watching her flee like that, I scoffed to myself. Spineless coward. Without another look, I turned and left the hospital. Sitting in the car, I immediately called Mr. Davison, my grandfather’s assistant: “Could you help me look into any unusual activity my dad’s been up to lately, especially his travel plans and financial transactions?” “Be quick, but be careful not to tip him off.” “Any evidence you find, save it right away.”
When I got home, my mom, Eleanor, was in the kitchen making soup. When my dad was younger, he was busy with work, had an irregular diet, and developed serious stomach problems—he even had two stomach surgeries. My mom felt bad for him. A woman who’d never even boiled an egg started cooking just for him. She made slow-cooked soups, healing porridges, and medicinal dishes… She carefully nursed his stomach back to almost full health—about 80%. For as long as I could remember, that had been going on for nearly ten years. In two days, it would be Mom and Dad’s 20th wedding anniversary. Yet this was when I found out my dad was cheating. Watching her busy in the kitchen, my anger turned to deep sadness, and I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. She was in her forties but kept her figure well, with firm skin that made her look closer to thirty. Only her hands told a different story—slightly enlarged knuckles, thin calluses on her palms, and a few faint white scars on the backs of her hands. She used to love getting manicures, but later, she found it got in the way of cooking, so she quit altogether. I walked into the kitchen and gently hugged her from behind. She jumped, then smiled and teased me: “You’re home? You’re almost in high school, acting like a little kid.” “Come on, get out of here. It’s smoky, and I’m busy.” When I didn’t move, she sensed something was wrong. She turned around and immediately saw my tear-streaked face, her expression instantly tensing up. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Didn’t you go for your physical? Didn’t Dad go with you? Let me ask him…” She started to reach for her phone. I grabbed her wrist, shaking my head hard. “Don’t call him!” Mom froze, looking at me anxiously, waiting for me to explain. I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat tight. “Dad… he’s cheating.” “Her name is Summer Davis. She used to be his secretary.” I moved stiffly, my fingers shaking a little as I pulled my tablet out of my bag. The screen lit up, showing the information Mr. Davison, my grandfather’s assistant, had helped me dig up. The screen light made Mom’s face look pale. I swiped through the pages, showing her everything one by one. “She and Dad started seeing each other not long after she joined the company. That was… right when you got pregnant with me.” “Less than six months later, she left the company because she was pregnant. Dad bought her a luxury penthouse in a high-end building near our house, and it’s in her name.” “While you were swollen and struggling to sleep in your third trimester, he was making her special prenatal meals over there; while you were fighting for your life during a difficult labor in the hospital, he was massaging her, walking with her to ease her pain.” “While you were recovering from your C-section in the hospital, he was at that woman’s prenatal appointments, even telling her to walk more so she wouldn’t have to go through a C-section later.” “Mom, that other daughter is only six months younger than me. He cheated on you *while you were pregnant*.” I cried as I spoke, tears splashing onto the tablet screen, leaving small wet streaks. Mom stared blankly at the words and photos, her eyes slowly reddening with tears. “How could this be…?” “Twenty years… dating, marriage, twenty years. How could he…?” I hugged her tightly, took a deep breath, and kept going. “Mom, remember when I was little, the house fire?” She nodded, her voice getting even hoarser. “Of course I remember. I was on a business trip then. Your dad was juggling work while taking care of you, and when he turned around, you’d set the curtains on fire… He risked his life to save you. He was terrified afterward, watching over you in the hospital, saying if anything happened to you, he wouldn’t want to live either.” “After you got out of the ICU, he was so anxious. He followed you everywhere, often waking up in the middle of the night to check on you. He kept telling me it was all his fault… Back then, I thought he really loved you and cared about our family.” As she spoke, there was a bitter edge to her words. I kept scrolling, pausing my finger on a section of the investigation report. “What if I told you that fire wasn’t an accident at all?” “He thought I was asleep and was rushing to see them—Summer and Chloe. He threw an unextinguished cigarette butt into the trash can.” “The window was open, the wind blew the curtain in, and it caught fire. He locked me in the room… I couldn’t save myself.” “He didn’t save me either. A neighbor noticed the fire and called the police. Firefighters broke down the door, carried me out, and took me to the hospital. He… only showed up much later.” “I was only a few years old then, and I was drifting in and out of consciousness, so I couldn’t remember exactly what happened.” “Did you think he stayed by my side that whole time because he loved me? He was scared I might suddenly remember and tell you the truth… scared you’d get mad and he’d lose access to Grandpa Harrison’s resources and connections.” My eyes stung, burning with a mix of injustice and fury. All the happiness I thought I’d had was actually a carefully constructed lie. The built-up unfairness hit its breaking point, turning into pure anger. I hated him for lying to Mom, and even more for giving me this fake love all these years like it was some kind of charity. What were we to him, really? But looking at Mom’s face, only heartache was left. She was the one who’d been hurt the most. I wanted to say more, but my phone suddenly rang. It was the hospital. “Hello, is this Hazel Anderson? Some of your physical exam results need retesting. Please have a parent bring you back to the hospital for a detailed examination as soon as possible.” I paused, trying to keep my voice steady. “Okay, I understand.” As soon as I hung up, both my mom’s and my phones vibrated almost at the same time. The message to me said: [The hospital called, said you need a recheck. Dad will take you the day after tomorrow.] The message to Mom said: [Honey, that French designer you like is having a private collection exhibit next week. A friend gave me two invitation-only tickets. It’s the day after tomorrow afternoon. You should go, clear your head.] The day after tomorrow was exactly when I was supposed to have my recheck at the hospital. He’d deliberately sent Mom away, planning to take me alone… Mom and I exchanged a look. Neither of us said anything. I really wanted to see his face when his elaborate scheme fell apart.
On the day of the recheck, my dad and I went to the hospital together. While waiting at a red light, he picked up his phone and sent a voice message to my mom. “Honey, have you gotten to the art exhibition center? Is parking easy there?” He was checking up on her. Soon, Mom replied with a message. “Just got here, waiting in line to get in. Parking was a bit far, had to walk a ways.” She also attached a photo. A selfie of her and a friend at the exhibition center. My dad tapped to enlarge it, then kept driving. “I heard the ‘Morning Mist’ piece is on display this time. Have you seen it? I remember you really liked that painter.” A few minutes later, Mom sent a photo from inside the exhibition hall. “Saw it, it’s even more amazing than in the catalog. It’s pretty crowded, talk later.” My dad seemed to let out a relieved sigh. He turned to me with a perfect smile. “Your mom finally gets to relax a little.” Hypocrite. I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. At the hospital, he played the part of the good father perfectly. Follow-up appointments, tests, checking in… He even kindly covered my eyes when they drew my blood. If I hadn’t found out about his affair and that he had another daughter… I probably would’ve leaned into that tenderness, snuggled in his arms and whined like a kid, just like before. The whole process went quickly. After getting the blood draw receipt, he checked his watch and spoke casually. “Hazel, wait here for a minute, don’t go anywhere. Dad’s going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” “Okay,” I whispered, looking down. He was heading toward the hematology ward. After a little while, I stood up and quietly followed him. The ward door was slightly open. I stood outside, peeking through the gap. My dad was sitting beside Chloe’s bed, feeding her medicine. The girl leaned against him, looking completely dependent, her voice tearful. “Daddy, I’m scared…” “Am I going to die? I don’t want to leave you and Mom…” My dad gently wiped her tears, his voice incredibly soft. “Silly girl, don’t talk like that.” “Daddy got you the best doctors in the country and the best medicine. See, Daddy’s always here with you, right? You’re so brave, you’re going to get better.” Summer also leaned over, gently brushing her daughter’s cheek. “Don’t be scared, Mommy and Daddy are here. Your dad has put off so much work for you, coming to the hospital every day, talking to all these experts and professors… Remember when you had that midnight fever last month? Daddy was at a conference overseas, but he got on the next flight home and stayed up with you for two whole nights. With Daddy here, you don’t have to fear anything.” The three of them looked like the perfect little family. Meanwhile, I stood outside the door feeling like a fool. I remembered when I was eight, I had pneumonia so bad my fever hit 104 degrees, coughing so hard I thought my lungs would split. Mom rushed me to the ER, her hands shaking she was so scared. She called him over and over, but all he sent was a text: “With important clients, can’t leave. Thanks for handling it.” That whole night, Mom sat with me alone in the emergency room until morning, watching the IV drip. Later I found out Chloe had been throwing a fit that night, didn’t want him to leave. His “important clients” were just Summer and her. I dug my nails into my palms so hard they almost broke, but I didn’t feel a thing. Suddenly an arm wrapped around my shoulders. It was Mom. She gave me a little nod, like she was saying “I’ve got you.” Just then, the doctor came out smiling: “Don’t worry, you two. Chloe’s numbers have fluctuated a bit lately, but they’re manageable overall. With parents as dedicated as you supporting her, the child’s positive attitude is crucial for treatment. Our team has gone over the bone marrow transplant plan thoroughly—we just need the donor ready, and we can move forward with surgery.” “I’d do anything to save Chloe,” my dad said, looking at her with a determined voice. Anything to save Chloe. What about me? Me, being treated like a walking donor. Didn’t my wishes, my health, matter at all? A dull, heavy ache spread through my chest. My dad turned to the doctor, his voice steady. “I’ve got the donor all set up. We can get all the paperwork done today.” “Please do whatever you can to schedule the surgery as soon as possible.” A senior doctor next to him nodded in agreement. “Robert Anderson, always so efficient—and so dedicated to his daughter.” “Don’t worry, we have the OR ready. Once the donor completes pre-op checks, we can start. A father as connected and involved as you—this child is truly lucky.” The head nurse joined in: “Yes, Robert Anderson’s here practically every day—we all notice. It’s rare to find a successful man who’s also so family-focused and responsible.” Another doctor added: “I heard Robert Anderson not only works tirelessly for his daughter but also started a personal assistance fund to help other families facing similar struggles. That kind of generosity really earns our respect.” The hospital room filled with praise and admiration. He was being hailed as the perfect father and a generous man. Their voices trailed off, and someone even started clapping. The mood was upbeat and positive. Mom squeezed my hand, then pushed open the door, her voice sharp as ice: “Robert Anderson, that ‘recheck’ you mentioned… was it just a trick to turn my daughter into a donor for your love child?”
The room went dead silent. All the congratulatory smiles froze on their faces. Doctors, nurses, and the specialist all gaped at our sudden entrance, then at my dad and Summer, whose faces had gone white as sheets. My dad jumped up like he’d been burned, knocking over a water glass. “El-Eleanor? Hazel? What are you doing here…?” “Wondering why we’re not at the art exhibit?” Mom let go of my hand and stepped forward, her eyes sweeping over the girl in the bed who looked just like my dad, finally landing on his face. “If I hadn’t come, how else would I get to see my husband being so loving with his ‘important client’s’ daughter?” “Mrs. Anderson, please let me explain—this…” Summer tried to step forward but froze under Mom’s icy stare. “Explain what?” My voice shook—not from fear, but from anger so intense it felt cold. “Explain why you’re wearing what was supposed to be my mom’s anniversary gift? Explain why my dad is listed as your charity’s representative and your daughter’s legal guardian?” “Robert Anderson,” Mom didn’t even glance at Summer and Chloe, fixing her eyes on my dad, each word sharp as ice. “While I was swollen and exhausted during pregnancy, you were cooking for her. When I was fighting for my life during childbirth, you were out walking with her. When Hazel’s room caught fire as a kid, you didn’t even try to save her – you were rushing to see them, flicking a cigarette butt that nearly killed her! You only stuck around later because you were scared she’d remember, scared of losing my family’s money!” “Twenty years… Robert Anderson, twenty years married to you, just to get your carefully planned betrayal. And today, you tricked my daughter into being a donor for your love child?” Mom’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word cut through the silent hospital room, setting off a murmur of shock. The doctors and nurses who’d just been praising my dad now wore stunned expressions, whispering and exchanging looks. Oh my God, is that his wife? That sick girl is his mistress’s kid? Only six months younger than his real daughter? He cheated while his wife was pregnant! They were just calling him a great dad and philanthropist, but he’s using his wife’s family money to support his mistress! No wonder he was so pushy about the donor – he was plotting against his own daughter… My dad’s face turned red then white, veins bulging in his forehead. He tried to sound calm. “What are you talking about?! Let’s discuss this at home! This is a hospital, the child is sick – don’t cause a scene here!” “Making a scene?” Mom scoffed like she’d heard something ridiculous. She held up her phone, showing screenshots of evidence Mr. Davison had sent. “Robert Anderson, should I show these ‘angels in white’ your property deeds, bank transfers, and vacation photos with them? Let them see how this ‘generous’ Mr. Robert has been living off my family’s money while treating us like garbage!” “You!” My dad snapped, lunging to grab her phone. “What, gonna get violent?” Mom stood her ground. “With all these witnesses? Where was your shame when you were doing those disgusting things?!” Chloe, who’d been quiet, suddenly screamed: “Who are you people? Why are you yelling at my daddy! Daddy’s mine! He’s not yours!” She tried to struggle out of bed. Summer quickly hugged her, tears streaming, begging Mom: “Mrs. Anderson, it was all my fault. Please don’t involve the child—she’s so sick, she can’t handle this… Robert was just confused, trying to save his daughter. Hazel is Chloe’s biological sister after all. If they match, saving her sister’s life is the right thing to do…” I finally let out a bitter laugh. “Sister? My mom only had me. Saving her would be a choice, not an obligation. You tricked me into blood tests without consent—that’s illegal! And Dad, you said ‘anything to save Chloe.’ So if it means taking my bone marrow and hurting me, that’s still ‘worth it’?” My dad looked away, his lips trembling. He couldn’t speak. “Good. Real good.” Mom nodded, the last warmth leaving her eyes. She ignored my dad’s pathetic excuses, pulling out her phone and dialing a number on speaker. “Dad, you heard all that, right?” The door opened again. My grandfather, Mr. Harrison, walked in with his cane, accompanied by Mr. Davison. He wore a sharp tailored suit, his face grim, eyes like steel. They swept over my dad’s crumpled figure, then fixed on Summer and Chloe with cold scrutiny. “Robert Anderson,” Mr. Harrison’s voice carried the quiet authority of a lifetime in charge, silencing the room. “Effective immediately, you’re terminated from all company positions. Any assets funded or guaranteed by the Harrison family will be frozen and liquidated.” “Dad! Mr. Harrison!” My dad panicked, trying to rush forward but blocked by Mr. Davison. “You can’t do this! I built this company…” “Built it with what?” Mr. Harrison cut him off sharply. “Without Harrison capital, connections, and my daughter managing your life all these years, your little shop would’ve failed. Lawyers are already investigating your embezzlement to fund your mistress. For Hazel’s sake, I’ll offer this: walk away with nothing, or face criminal charges.” Summer shrieked: “How dare you! Those are Robert’s earnings!” Mr. Harrison didn’t spare her a glance, addressing my dad directly: “Your choice: sign the divorce papers, surrender what’s not yours, or we’ll see you in court. And we can add child endangerment charges for trying to coerce Hazel into medical procedures without consent.” My dad went pale as a ghost, staggering back into the hospital bed. Mr. Harrison turned, his expression softening as he looked at Mom and me. “Eleanor, Hazel, let’s go home.” As we headed for the door, Chloe suddenly grabbed a water cup from her nightstand and threw it at me. “You’re the bad guys! You ruined my daddy! You ruined everything!” Mom pulled me behind her just as the cup shattered against the wall. Mom paused, turning back to Summer and Chloe. “Remember this: We didn’t ruin anything. Your mother and my husband built their life on lies and betrayal—it was always going to fall apart.” Stepping into the hallway, the sunlight was almost blinding. Hysterical crying and shouting echoed behind us. Mom squeezed my hand tightly—her palm was cold but trembling. I squeezed back, trying to share some warmth.
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