He Harvested Our Daughter's Bone Marrow , Then I Showed Him the Fake Marriage Certificate

For the next few days, I never left my daughter's bedside.

Not until the scheduled date of my mother's bone marrow transplant did I finally step away.

She'd been sick since she was young. Fifteen years searching for a match, and they'd finally found one.

Once the surgery was done and both my mother and Lily were discharged, I would destroy Thomas Gilbert's reputation.

Then take my family abroad.

Leave this place forever.

Maybe it was knowing the surgery was finally happening.

My mother was still bedridden, but the color in her face looked better than it had in months.

When I arrived, the TV happened to be tuned to the news.

Gilbert Group CEO Thomas Gilbert has publicly announced a paternity recognition banquet for his son...

After a long silence, my mother took my hand. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'm behind you."

"If you're tired of it, get the divorce. I'll help you raise the baby."

My nose stung. I barely held back the sob building in my throat.

She always supported me, no questions asked.

When I got married. And now, when I was ready to end it.

I said a few words to reassure her, then got up to find the doctor.

The scheduled surgery time had already passed, and no one had come in.

My mother had been resuscitated multiple times before. She'd had several critical condition notices issued.

Today was the deadline. There was no more room for delay.

I went to the nurses' station and explained the situation.

Several nurses stood up immediately and wheeled my mother into the operating room.

A short while later, one of them came back out.

"The patient has been given anesthesia. I'll go get the lead surgeon right now."

I nodded gratefully, thanking her again and again.

But minutes passed. The anesthesia had already taken effect, and the surgeon still hadn't appeared.

Then the operating room doors swung open.

Every nurse inside filed out and headed for the stairwell.

I didn't understand. I grabbed one of them at random.

"Where are you going? My mother is still waiting for her surgery!"

"Please don't leave. The doctor said her condition can't wait any longer..."

The nurse shook me off and kept walking.

"Please wait. Ms. Harding sprained her ankle, and Mr. Gilbert is furious. He ordered all staff to go treat her."

I froze. My mind went blank.

Thomas knew. He knew my mother's surgery was scheduled for today.

He did this on purpose.

Behind me, the operating room doors stood wide open. My mother's agonized moans carried out into the hall.

I shot to my feet and ran inside.

She was lying there, her face drained of all color.

I grabbed her hand.

"Mom!"

On the monitor beside her, every vital sign was plummeting.

Panic seized me.

"Mom! Are you okay? Doctor! Nurse! Is anyone there?!"

I slammed the call button over and over.

No one answered.

My mother's face had gone purple. The oxygen mask fogged in rapid, shallow bursts, and her hands were clawing at the air.

My knees buckled. I stumbled out of the operating room.

The first person I saw in a white coat, I lunged at them.

"Please, save my mother!"

"She's alone on the table with no one treating her, please..."

But one doctor after another waved me off.

Their faces were tight with discomfort.

"Mr. Gilbert gave the order. Everyone has to go attend to Ms. Harding."

Then a shrill, continuous tone cut through the air from inside the operating room.

My breath stopped. I forced myself back inside.

The line on the heart monitor had gone flat.

Her hand was stiffening in mine. No new fog appeared in the oxygen mask.

Her eyes were wide open. A single tear sat at the corner of one.

I had no strength left. My hands shook as I closed her eyes.

My brain nearly shut down.

On autopilot, I texted my assistant.

I need all the hospital surveillance footage from this morning.

Then I opened the voice recorder on my phone.

I forced myself to follow the crowd toward that room.

Tracey was sitting up in bed, surrounded by a swarm of doctors.

And Thomas was kneeling beside her, cradling her foot, rubbing ointment onto her ankle.

What a joke.

The great Thomas Gilbert, who couldn't even be bothered to hold his own daughter once.

Now those hands, the ones that commanded empires, were cradling Tracey Harding's foot.

He saw me and the corner of his mouth curled up.

"Vivienne. This is what happens when you go against me."